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Even my wings look different. Stronger. Sleeker. Like they belong to me again instead of being another symptom of my approaching end.

Belinda.

Proof.

Not that I need any.

But there it is.

My promised one is next door, probably drinking coffee and arguing with her asshole cat, while I'm standing naked in my bedroom realizing I have something I haven't had in years.

Time.

A future.

Her.

My Devil surges again.

Find her.

This time, I don't argue.

“Yeah.”

I grab the first pair of pants I see.

“I'm going.”

Because Belinda Ramos may have left my bed this morning.

But she's not getting away from me that easily.

Not after last night.

Not after that bite.

And sure as fuck not now that I know exactly what she is to me.

Chapter 18

Belinda

I can’t believe this phone call.

I just can’t.

“Mother? Are you serious?”

“Well, Belinda, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Of course she doesn’t.

I stand in the middle of my bedroom, still trying to process everything Clarissa just told me about Damian, claiming bites, promised mates, and the alarming red-gold magic currently playing peekaboo beneath my skin.

And now this horseshit.

Because apparently today is the day everyone gets to tell Belinda Ramos what her life is supposed to look like.