"I love you, doll." He laced their fingers again, not bothering with pulling up his hood as they stepped out of the room into the main office.
It was quiet. After-hours. The floors were a silvery marble, and a large carpet was in the lobby, engraved with the Sibeth flag. They walked out of the double doors together, down the grand, curved steps that led to the streets.
He began to walk straight, but she tugged him back.
"Not that way." Vesperin jerked her head behind him, and he could see the faint walls of the Academy in the distance. Damn, how far had Asura and Volik taken them?
Cyrus sighed. "Offer’s still on the table, you know?"
Vesperin glanced up at him as they walked, a question in her eyes.
"You can tie me up anytime you want."
She growled lowly at his words, and he laughed into the night, no longer hidden.
Outside, Rhyden found them. Cyrus felt Vesperin stumble back in shock.
The vampire’s arms were crossed, expression lethal. He toyed with the sleek grip of a long-barreled pistol, the chamber glowing, then holstered it beneath his leather jacket. "Took you long enough. I was about to break through the security wards."
Vesperin raked her fingers through her tangled hair, and Cyrus and Rhyden both tracked the movement, as though they were starved.
"Why didn’t you?" she asked.
"Figured you had it covered with all your big talk—what good is your incubus after all if he can’t fucking keep you safe. Security would’ve reached the Embassy within minutes, anyway. Of all the crimes I’ve committed, I don’t want to go down for breaking and entering. Seems like Cyrus isn’t a lost cause like I thought." Rhyden’s eyes raked over Cyrus’s form.
Cyrus didn’t think he ever remembered Rhyden saying his name—he’d take it. "Following us?" He slapped the vampire’s chest, ignoring his warning hiss. "Look at that," Cyrus purred, "you do care."
"How did you find us?" Vesperin asked.
Rhyden reached for her other hand like it was an afterthought, taking it roughly. Cyrus felt her almost slip out of his hold from the vampire’s rough handling of her.
"Is this fucking rope burn?" Rhyden lifted her wrist and stared at the faint red marks on her skin.
Cyrus knew he’d have matching marks. The thought made him smile.
The ease with which Rhyden deflected made Cyrus curious.
Cyrus wasn’t quite ready to share what had happened, how he’d abdicated the crown… "By the way, Rhyden, I’m good for a lot more than keeping her safe. Who do you think keeps her up at night and drives those pretty little moans from her lips?"
Cyrus danced away from Rhyden’s sharp bite of flames. He felt a lick of heat against his calves.
It grew silent between the three as they walked back to the Academy dorms, and not once did Rhyden share how he’d known where they were, nor did Cyrus reveal why he andVesperin were at the Sibeth Embassy in the middle of the night. Secrets were always revealed.
Atlas placedthe book on the shelf and stepped back, tilting his head as his gaze traced the words on the spine.The Mythos of Soulbonds.A gift he had bound himself, each word inscribed in his own hand. He remembered her wistfulness, hours spent in the archival buildings, her eager curiosity making her brown eyes bright.
He knew she would like the book. He had glimpsed it in the threads of fate. Thus, he had bound it.
Atlas rolled his shoulders back; the dark ends of his cape—which he had traded from the dark coat he wore on Earth—brushed the tops of his polished boots.
He always felt such a deep sort of ache when he thought of Vesperin. It was as though he were missing a limb.
Happiness… something he had not felt in truth since those days on the first planet, Stella, in the village of Luxuria beneath the willow tree. Where he had come to know Vesperin’s body as intimately as he knew his own—or better. He had traced each curve and freckle on her skin, could close his eyes and see the constellation of them behind his lids.
Atlas thought he knew a semblance of peace now, by finallyseeingher again. Yet watching was even more torturous. He knew it was not yet their time, so he was forced into a period of waiting. For a being outside time, patience had not been a virtue he needed to know.
Until now.
The library was utterly silent. The sound of his boots echoed across the untouched marble floor. It was white and polishedwith golden accents. Pure and light, just as he remembered her liking. She never liked dark things. She loved brightness and color—happiness. Blue butterflies and breezy dresses to wear in the warm months.
