And then she presses her face back against my chest, her arms tightening around my torso, her small frame fitting perfectly against mine.
"Where are we going?" she asks.
"Home."
"Your penthouse?"
"Our penthouse."
She does not correct me.
She just holds on tighter.
I adjust my trajectory, angling toward the industrial district where Obsidian Aegis headquarters rises above the surrounding buildings. The rain continues to fall, cold and relentless, but I do not feel it.
I feel only her.
Warm and alive and absolutely perfect against my chest.
My mate.
My anchor.
The reason my amber veins glow gold instead of dark, dying orange.
I tighten my grip on her, my sprawling, towering frames cradling her small frame with absolute gentleness, and fly through the storm.
The city blurs beneath us.
The rain streaks across my wings.
The gold veins blaze brilliant and incandescent.
And for the first time in eight hundred years, I am not alone.
I am not isolated.
I am not trapped inside my own calcified defenses.
I am flying.
With my mate in my arms.
And nothing—not corporate espionage, not bio-engineered enforcers, not the entire weight of Sentinel Dynamics—will ever take her from me.
I will burn the world to ash before I let that happen.
But for now, I just hold her close.
And fly us home.
Chapter 25: Tamsin
We land on the penthouse balcony like a meteor strike.
Not gracefully.
Not with any kind of cinematic elegance.
