Page 52 of The Shadow Sanctum

I covered my ears while he rattled off notes that summoned two more Keepers, both sprinting to the fenceline with such intensity that Angel’s fists raced. I stiffened. But all they brought was palpable excitement they seemed unable to put into words—not a word was spoken while they ushered us inside the compound.

The horn blared. I held my breath in anticipation for whatever ceremony we were walking into. I didn’t even realize it was ours.

A crowd had already formed when we emerged from the forest. World Cup-winning cheers followed a stabbed finger in our direction, and if confusion hadn’t dulled my senses, I would’ve cupped my ears.

Angel and I exchanged a look.

The sun was just setting as they ushered us to the ceremonial stage. There, people tossed flower petals while chanting our names. Keepers removed the collars in a delicate fashion, and when they were finished, they tossed them behind the stage and set off the explosives like fireworks, earning an all-new eruption of glee from the crowd.

Glee.

Angel grabbed my arm as the explosion rocked the stage. If he believed Luna was one to bluff, he was thoroughly corrected. We both were.

As Aurelius was giving us his speech, ‘joyously welcoming two brothers into the collective,’ my eyes sought Luna in the crowd. I found Thorne, but she was nowhere in sight.

Not in the crowd.

Not at the celebratory—breadless—feast Aurelius arranged, though her sisters were present.

It took painful restraint not to ask if Luna was sick. She was never mentioned, nor was there any trace of illness in the compound.

Freshly showered, I flip off the light and fall back onto the surprisingly comfortable bed assigned to me in my private room at the Grove. Most cultivators bunk together, but apparently, Angel and I passed a test no initiate before us has completed… Which apparently makes us special.

That, and the millions of dollars we’ve promised to shuffle over. Either way, it’s nice to be promised privacy.

I close my eyes while rolling my ankles, forcing blood to flow through my tired feet. The room is warm, and the shower I took steamed the entire bathroom, but my toes spent too much time numb. I’m lucky to have them.

Four soft knocks on my door pull a groan from deep within my chest. It’s a hesitant rhythm, the anthem of the guilty.

Angel.

With commentary on the creepy welcoming we had this evening.

With a strategy briefing we’ll pretend isn’t a lecture.

With more plans to murder the woman I… can’t fucking stand.

Five minutes.

Three seconds pass before the hallway light bathes the room and a ghostly figure appears in the doorway. If the knocks were conniving, the black hood shadowing the person’s face lays a blanket of ill intent. A scarf covers from the nose down and sways over the person’s shoulders—narrow shoulders. Delicate, like the subtle curve of cloth along the feminine waist I didn’t realize how intimately I knew. Recognized in a darkened room on a night I least expected her to show.

The door closes and the overhead light flips on.

My head drops to the pillow with a sigh. “Now you come see me.”

Luna throws her hood off and unwraps the scarf from her neck. She locks the door—extremely presumptuous—and steps hesitantly toward the bed. A mouse approaching a snake. Or a timid John approaching a whore.

I could kill her.

“I needed to make sure it was safe. I um… Some things have changed since you left.”

Since I left?

I snort and lay my arm over my eyes. Any minute she’ll be giving me that look, that godforsaken pout of her lower lip that can draw a blind man’s eyes—and empty their wallet in the same breath. She could take anything with that look.

She must know it because instead of reading the room, she unzips her jacket. The next several seconds are filled by rustling fabric and a dip at the edge of the bed.

If she gives me a command… Calls me "slave" once…