Page 283 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“I was already on the warpath when we collided, but…” I shook my head. “We knew each other. As kids. Summer camp, of all things. I saved his life.”

Viktor smiled, closed his eyes, and when he opened them, silver sparked through the husky blue. “May I?” he breathed, gaze dreamily trained over my shoulder. I nodded. His magic danced toward me, a thrum of power catching my breath halfway into my chest and lulling me into safety—comfort… pleasure.

The energy whooshed out of me, and my eyes flew open.

“I wondered what you were playing at,” he drawled. “Didn’t know if you were kidding yourself or just didn’t know him yet.”

“Bit of both.”

“I don’t follow.”

“We barely got to know each other before Reagan kidnapped him—tortured her own son to draw me out. I returned the favor.”

“How so?” Atreus pressed, mischief alight in those jade eyes.

I smiled, and—like my soul mother—I knew it wasn’t pretty. A wicked thing, just like the power unfurling in my chest. “I allegedly tied her Guardians to a pyre in the back of my pickup, drenched them in gasoline, and summoned her. She called off security, and I challenged her to the duel on the spot.”

“Vicious,” Atreus said approvingly.

“Effective,” Viktor added.

“Very.”

“But it stung, regardless of your reasons.”

“Killing Reagan, exposing her—that part was planned. Falling for her son wasn’t.”

“But you were going to marry me.”

I nodded. “Queens put their people first. And he… wasn’t exactly fond of me for a while there.”

“Can’t blame him.”

Atreus elbowed Vik squarely in the ribs at the barb.

“No, he’s right,” I laughed.

“Listen to me, chaos.” Atreus turned to face me, cradling my face in a way that was almost affectionate—until he smooshed my cheeks together and raised his brows pointedly. “You’re lovely, but you’re also an idiot. Mate bonds are sacred. My father was married before he found his mate, and he dropped my mother like a hot rock.”

I tried to wince but couldn’t move my face. He smirked—and then the French doors blew open on a gust of shadow-warped wind. Cyrus emerged, shirtless and glorious and… well, murderous.

“Get your hands. Off. My. Mate.”

Cyrus

“Look, man, it’s not what it looks like—and I know what it looks like but⁠—”

I shoved past Atreus, straight for Freya. She held her ground even as I towered over her. “What the hell? What about last night? What happened to trying?”

“Woah,” the blond douche muttered.

“Well, jackass, Atreus is right—it’s not what it looked like, so do us both a favor and inhale at least twice.”

I chuffed out a breath, certain that if I had a spark of pyro magic in my blood, I’d be breathing fire. “Tessa said⁠—”

“Tessa?” Freya cut me off, her scowl turning granite as the color drained from her face. “Oh God, no.” She shook her head. “No, Cyrus, I promise you, that’s not it.”

“Really?” I growled, trying and failing to get control of myself.