Revulsion flared, hot enough to scald. I wanted to wrench his hand away, to snap each finger and force them one by one down his throat. He toyed with my body as though it belonged to him. A possession. A diversion.
The latch behind us clicked into place. Metal met metal with quiet finality.
Still, he remained pressed to my back, fingertips twitching along my abdomen.
Sea beneath, he knew what grew inside me. The knowledge weighted his touch, a reminder of leverage only he possessed.
Footsteps approached. Measured. Unhurried. They halted just behind him.
The hand at my stomach stilled.
I twisted, cold glass biting into my heated spine. Deimos smiled from the hollow of Egath’s neck, fangs hovering near the rumpled collar of his tunic. His silver hair caught the moonlight and gleamed pale as frost.
“Greetings, Nienna Draconis.” He nipped at Egath’s throat with deliberate restraint, teeth grazing skin without breaking it before nudging him aside.
No resentment flickered in those green eyes. Acceptance pooled there instead. A player acknowledging his role in a larger game. He returned to the chair and lowered himself into it, composed as ever.
“Did you enjoy your bath?” Deimos stepped close again and braced one hand against the glass beside my head. He caged mewithout contact. Taller than me, his silver strands grazed my chest as he lifted a lock of my hair and drew it beneath his nose.
“Tallon objected.”
“As he would.” A quiet laugh rolled through him. “He is immature. Has the mind of a petulant child.”
“And the magic of a Fortune.”
His mouth curved with knowing amusement. “He tests his strength. Attempts to learn without humility. Ignorant. Foolish.” His gaze sharpened, pale eyes searching my face. “But that was not my question.”
“It was pleasurable.” My breaths stayed shallow, measured, careful to keep my breasts from brushing his body.
Moonlight deepened the burgundy sheen of his overcoat. Red shimmered across the fabric like dried wine caught in glass.
He stepped back, granting space as though he sensed my restraint. “He will learn to care for his servants.” A subtle gesture indicated Egath, still sprawled in the chair, eyes tracking every movement between us. “Time tempers even the most arrogant. When I was young, curbing the hunger for dominance proved difficult. Many Velli carry scars from my excess.”
The glass door opened with a muted scrape. Cool air spilled inward. He guided me through without touching, letting the wind tug at loose wisps of hair and lift the thin fabric of my dress so it fluttered against my legs. I didn’t care. My soul sang with the scarce freedom. My spirit strained toward the open sky.
The night pressed different here—drier, thinner. The land itself exhaled bitterness. Acrid smoke rode the wind, stinging my nostrils, reminding me where I stood.
Deimos followed to the balustrade, keeping close as I leaned over the stone.
Vellos stretched below in uneven veins of firelight. Pits blazed along the streets, smoke curling upward in thick, greasy spirals. Charred wood mingled with something fouler beneath.No towering walls guarded the city, no gates marked its edges. It unraveled into shacks and sagging roofs, hunger and grime. Far beyond, darkness pooled into what might have been forest, swallowed as clouds rolled over the moon.
“Egath told me you craved the open sky, but I did not realize how much it would change you.”
My nails bit into the stone. I kept my gaze level, refusing to scour the sky like a desperate fool.
Come to me!
“I am still the same.” I arched slightly, lifting my face as if I were basking in the fresh air. The movement gave reason to track racing clouds without appearing frantic.
“You are Draconis. The Dragon’s Heart.” His voice hovered near my ear. “We have not welcomed one of your kind in many years. You are… unique.”
He stepped behind me. Fabric brushed the tender ridges along my back. A single finger traced from shoulder to waist, navigating welts and half-healed lacerations with deliberate care.
“I don’t know of any Draconis who visited Vellos.” I twisted when his touch drifted too low.
His hand settled at my hip, drawing me close until stone pressed hard against my spine. “It happened so long ago, it’s drenched in legend and myth. But I will find the truth in it.”
When had I grown accustomed to his teeth? His pale eyes—his sweep of silver hair? My heart hammered at his nearness, yet terror no longer hollowed me. Anticipation tangled there instead, coiling with calculation.
