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He positioned her carefully above him, fingers digging delightfully into her hips as she slowly lowered herself until he was deep inside her. Then they were moving together again, faster, more urgent. He flipped them over, taking control of the pace, allowing her to simply sink into the heady rhythm of their bodies moving in harmony.

Their kisses grew harsher, more desperate. Passion surged through her, raw and intense, consuming them both.

Heat coiled inside her, the tension twisting so tight that it was almost unbearable. The moment she thought she might break, Oleander gasped her name, his body tensing as he stilled inside of her. At the same moment, another wave of pleasure crashed into her, pulling her under.

Then she was drowning, sinking deeper into dark waters, and she knew now that for her there was no going back.

Chapter

Thirty-Six

OLEANDER BRIGHTMORE

As loath as Oleander was to drag himself and Perine from the warmth of his bed, a sinking feeling gnawed at him. Something big was about to happen at Wisteria’s party—if it hadn’t already. So, in the quiet hours before dawn, when the world was still shrouded in shadows, Oleander and Perine slipped from the comfort of their blankets and prepared to return to the celebration.

Every moment felt charged with the kind of unspoken tension only the two of them seemed to share. His hands brushed against hers at every opportunity. Their eyes locked, the silence between them thick with a longing neither could ignore.

The moment was broken when Perine’s eyes widened, shocked laughter spilling from her. “You do have my handkerchief! I thought that looked like mine.”

“Do you… would you like it back?” He pulled it slowly from his trouser pocket, his thumb brushing tenderly along the floral embroidery.

“Consider it a gift.” She grinned. “I have your boots after all, it’s only right that you have something to remember me by.” As soon as the words left her mouth he could see she wanted to gather them back up and swallow them.

Her eyes grew glassy for a moment and he knew if she let even one tear slip out, his own emotions would rip themselves from their tether. He wouldn’t allow it. If they had to part ways—it wouldn’t be with sorrow ruining their last moments alone together.

“Come here,” he demanded and she flowed toward him like water, smoothly fitting into his open arms. He tightened his hold.

They stayed like that for long, treacherous moments before they pulled apart once more—now silently preparing to return to the party.

Perine slipped on the ring and transformed into the sorceress version of herself, effortlessly morphing as the magic took hold. Not wanting to deal with the enchanted clouds that had once clung to her, she scavenged through Wisteria’s old room until she found a thick band of fabric to wrap around her torso. Over it, she donned a long cream tapered jacket and soft trousers cut just above her ankles. Oleander followed suit, pulling on a jacket to match her cream attire, adding only trousers.

Their hands found each other as they left, the unspoken understanding between them clear.

For tonight, they were in this together.

As soon as they reentered the party, Hemlock spotted them and dragged them to the area where he and Oleander had been lounging before.

Hemlock glanced at her and told them that not long after they’d left, Valus had been swiftly removed from the party—much to Oleander’s relief. He then began to sign something about their sister, but before he could finish, a heavy silence fell over the crowd. Oleander motioned for his brother to look.

Wisteria stood high on a balcony made of water, shimmering like she stood on a celestial stage. In one hand she held a cocktail, sipping it casually as the crowd stared at her in stunned silence. The other rested ruefully on her hip.

Oleander watched, his gaze narrowing. Wisteria had always leaned into shocking fashion, especially when their father was present to be appalled, but tonight… tonight, she was something else entirely.

A golden, form-fitting chain-mail dress clung to her like a second skin, with two small strips of fabric barely covering the essentials. Her dark hair lay sleek and sharp, her horns gleaming under the iridescent party lights. She wore no makeup, her only adornment being the sharpness of her sneer. Her bright golden boots—with heels so high and soles so thick they could kill—stomped as she made her presence known.

With a dramatic sigh, she brushed dust off her shoulder. Then, in a voice that was deceptively nonchalant, she signed and spoke, “Now that the rest of my family is finally here, we can begin.”

The room hung on her every word as she held out her hand, and, with a flick of magic, a cocktail flew into her grasp. She drained it before tossed the empty glass away without a second thought, its crash resonating through the thick silence of the ballroom.

Another sneer curled her lips. She amplified her voice, letting it echo through the expectant crowd. “Today is my birthday.”

Cheers erupted, but Wisteria’s expression remained unfazed, staring out at them with a cold, haughty mask.

“Yes, yes,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Today is my twenty-fifth birthday. Which if you ask my father, means my soul pieces are now completely enmeshed and I am finally ready to be the best possible sacrifice for our family.” The cheering slowly faded.

She tilted her glass towards their father in a mocking toast. The tension in the room grew thicker. “I always did love to make you proud.”

The crowd stilled as she summoned another cocktail, drained it in a single, long drink, and threw it over her shoulder.