Page 29

Guy hesitated only long enough to squeeze Knox’s shoulder before following Bernie into the next room.

Which left me alone with Knox MacAllen, a smoking table, and the enormous conversational grenade Guy had lobbed directly into the middle of my life.

“So,” I said.

Knox, standing by the window with his shoulders locked tight, didn’t turn around. “No.”

“Oh, we’re absolutely discussing it.”

“Discussing what?”

“Your brother announcing to everyone within hearing distance that I’m your Mate.”

His back went even straighter. “Guy talks too much.”

“Was he right?”

Knox said nothing. Then he muttered, “You are enjoying this entirely too much.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Sully?”

Knox’s mouth flattened. “Maybe.”

Crossing the room, I stopped several feet from his back. “I didn’t ask what Sully thinks.”

That finally made him turn.

“I felt it,” he said, and the confession sounded like it cost him something. “The second I saw you, I knew something had changed.”

His gaze dropped to the floor between us. “But I spent a hundred years belonging to someone against my will. I’m having a hard time hearing the word Mate and not thinking about ownership.”

The raw honesty of it hit me square in the chest.

“Good thing I don’t belong to you,” I said.

Knox’s eyes snapped to mine.

“And you don’t belong to me,” I continued. “Fate can make introductions. That’s all she gets. Anything after that, Dead Guy? We choose.”

Something in his face changed. Not fixed. Not healed. Goddess knew trauma didn't work that way. But the tightness around his eyes eased, and I hoped he finally understood what I meant. Whatever this thing between us became, it would never be Mammon's leash. It would only ever be a hand offered and accepted.

He stepped closer. I didn’t move. His thumb brushed a streak of charcoal from my cheek with a tenderness I had not expected from a man who looked like he’d been forged in war.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. Mine did the same to his. The air between us tightened, charged, and grew quiet, until I could feel the warmth of his breath.

“If you’re going to kiss me, Dead Guy,” I whispered, “this is an unnecessarily long loading screen.”

Knox almost laughed.

For one ridiculous, perfect second, I thought maybe the Universe had finally decided to stop punching Knox MacAllen in the face and let him have something soft.

Then Guy yelled from the other room, “Knox!”

“Of course,” I muttered.

Following Knox, we found Guy and Bernie standing over a shimmering communication spell, Carrick’s voice crackling through the Warded air.

Guy looked up, his face grim. “Carrick remembers Keevandrie experimenting with ways to bind Dragon Magic to infernal gateways during the same period you disappeared.”