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I burrow closer, pressing my face into the curve of his neck and breathing him in. Beneath the lingering punch of the whiskey, his heat is absolute.

Mine.

The realization settles somewhere deep in my chest. I inhale again, greedily, knowing I could spend the rest of my life right here and still never get enough of him.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” I murmur, my voice slurring into the dark.

“Possessive,” Ciaran corrects. “I told you.”

“Same thing.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest. He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Go to sleep, mouse.”

And yeah, I think I will. I’m so tired I can’t think anymore. I breathe out slowly and smile as my eyelids grow too heavy to keep open. The last thing I feel is his arm tightening around my waist and the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

Home, I think, and for once the word feels simple.

35

CIARAN

Tolian glows beneath us. Rowan's arms are wrapped around my waist, his helmet resting between my shoulder blades whenever the bike banks through a turn. The first few times he rode with me, he held on like he expected to die. Now he leans into every corner with me, his grip tightening automatically whenever I push the bike a little harder.

Yeah. He's not going anywhere.

The Black Chapel rises from the old district ahead, stained glass glowing red and silver against the night. I ease the bike onto the landing platform and kill the engine.

“You still planning to hate the bike forever?” I ask as I reach back to unclip my helmet.

“No.” He sighs dramatically while I lift his helmet free. “Which is annoying, because I was planning to hate it forever.”

My mouth curves. Stealing a quick kiss—and a swipe of my tongue across his lower lip—I grab both helmets.

“Come on, princess.”

The bartender looks up, his gaze lingering on Rowan for a second too long. I step closer until our shoulders brush and jut my chin at the guy. He immediately finds something else to look at.

“You know him?”

Rowan sighs. “We've met.”

“You're lucky you're injured.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.”

Heat crawls into his face and I have to bite back a grin. Fuck, that's still adorable. I don't think I'll ever get enough of him.

The noise swallows us as we descend the stairs, music and shouting rolling through the chapel beneath the clink of glasses and the roar of the crowd. Tonight the place is dressed differently for the annual Floor Show, the one night each year the major families gather beneath the chapel roof, dark banners hanging between the stained-glass arches while staff weave through the crowd balancing crystal decanters and instrument cases. Families from across the network fill the room, guards stationed at every entrance as preparations continue around the stage.

Rowan edges a little closer, his shoulder brushing mine as he takes in the tailored suits, tattooed enforcers, and openly carried weapons.

A second later, his hand finds mine. Tightening my grip around his fingers, I continue down the stairs and try not to enjoy it quite as much as I do.

Familiar faces call greetings as we pass. I answer with a nod here, a raised hand there, never breaking stride.

Near the platform, the Noctis waits beneath a dark cover.