I look up at him.
At this towering, ancient, terrifying creature who has given me everything.
Who has made me feel powerful and valued andessential.
"Together," I say.
"Together," he agrees.
And then he's kissing me.
Slow.
Deep.
Claiming.
His wings tighten around us, his hands sliding up my back, his entire body radiating heat and possession and absolute, unwavering devotion.
When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard.
"I love you," he says.
"I know," I say. "Now let's go ruin some corporate assholes."
His chest rumbles.
Not a laugh.
A purr.
Deep and satisfied and absolutely feral.
"As you wish."
Chapter 21: Cyprian
The armored transport doors open.
I do not move immediately.
I am listening.
Cataloging.
Assessing the threat landscape with the same hyper-analytical precision I have used for eight hundred years of security operations.
The venue is the Obsidian Crescent—a converted industrial cathedral on the city's north waterfront. Vaulted ceilings. Exposed steel beams. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooking the harbor. The kind of architectural statement that costs more than most corporations' annual operating budgets.
The red carpet stretches from the transport bay to the main entrance.
Velvet ropes.
Security checkpoints.
And a crowd.
Not human.
