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Ryneth stared. For one stunned second, he couldn’t move. Then something hard and cold settled in his chest, and he realized he didn’t feel sorry for Bekn at all. Not after Theo. Not after everything.

Beside him, Daven let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Fucking psychopath,” he muttered, sounding almost impressed.

“For fuck’s sake,” Moargan snapped. “End it.”

Luminary guards surged forward, forcing the last Attica fighters to the ground, wrenching weapons free and locking chains around their wrists. Bekn writhed on his knees with smoke curling from his burned hand, the pain still tearing ragged sounds out of him.

Daven’s hand tightened on the back of Ryneth’s neck, his thumb pressing once beneath his ear like he was checking that Ryneth was still there, while his other hand stayed locked around Ryneth’s wrist like he had no intention of letting go again.

“Next time,” he said, staring straight into him, “you stay where I can touch you.”

Ryneth held his gaze through the pain, through the storm still humming under his skin. “Next time,” he said, “we go in together.”

For one beat, Daven just looked at him.

Then he caught Ryneth by the jaw and kissed him, hard enough to bruise, like he still hadn’t decided whether he wanted to punish him or drag him closer.

“Fine,” he muttered against Ryneth’s mouth. “Together.”

Thunder rolled above them.

Below the platform, Helion burned through the storm.

30

DAVEN

The private hover car hummed through the night. Below them, Helion burned in ribbons of light, the broken storm still curling over the Outer Ring.

Daven barely saw any of it. He couldn’t stop looking at Ryneth.

His bonded had dropped into the seat by the window like he hadn’t just walked into a fucking warzone, thrown lightning with his bare hands, and hauled Daven out of death twice.

His white hair was still damp from the storm, his shirt clinging to his skin. And his mouth was swollen from the kiss Daven had dragged out of him in the middle of gunfire.

Fuck, that had nearly made him lose his mind.

The thought made his incisors itch again. Seeing Ryneth fight beside him…

He still had the image of static snapping off his baby’s hands, those bright eyes locking on him through the storm.

He wanted to shove him into the seat and kiss him until he stopped breathing, or throw him over his shoulder and lock him inside the penthouse for the next month.

Probably both.

Shifting toward the built-in bar before he did something reckless in front of the driver partition, Daven grabbed the cabinet handle and tried not to picture Ryneth spread naked across the leather seat. “You look like you need a drink, aethera.” His voice came out rough.

He needed one too.

Ryneth turned his head and those bright eyes hit him at once, still carrying the last thin flicker of static. His mouth curved as if he knew exactly where Daven’s thoughts had gone. “Actually, I’m thirsty.”

Daven’s hand stilled on the cabinet as his power surged under his skin. Arousal slid through his veins and he could only stare at Ryneth, at the way Ryneth stayed stretched out against the leather like he had no idea what that sight did to a man.

Or maybe he did.

“You’re thirsty, huh?”

Ryneth tipped up his gaze to meet Daven’s stare, lifting the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”