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“Actually…” Lianna takes a step closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I think Gunnar would make quite the addition to our community. A strapping young alpha like him…he couldn’t resist showing his appreciation for me, even in captivity.”
“You’re lying,” I say with a harsh laugh. “But it doesn’t matter. My life is here now.”
“Handing over Gunnar so easily?” Her voice drips with mockery, and I can feel her eyes studying me, searching for a crack in my facade. “He’d make quite the specimen for New Eden. We could always use new studs for the Pit. I wonder how he would fuck if he was chained and feral.”
The room seems to shrink, the air growing thick. I clench my fists to keep them from shaking.
She’s playing dirty, and we both know it.
“I don’t need eros to have that effect on men,“ I murmur. “But I guess you do. And you can use it on whoever you want. I don’t care.”
“Maybe I will.” Lianna leans in close enough for me to catch the scent of her—the heavy, sultry scent of jasmine. “It would be a shame if Gunnar found a new place to call home, wouldn’t it?”
“Keep dreaming, Lianna,” I snap, meeting her gaze with every ounce of defiance I’ve got left. “He’s not the type to bow down to anyone. Not even you.”
Her laughter rings out, cold and hollow. “We’ll see about that, darling. We’ll see.”
She strides out of the room, leaving me alone with the echo of her words and a burning need to prove her wrong. I won’t let her get under my skin. Not now, not ever.
“Game on, High Priestess,” I whisper into the void.
She wants a war?
I’ll give her one she’ll never forget.
Chapter seven
Luka
I can’t believe she’s here.
And…a goddess?
The ritual was crazy, making me wonder if any of this has been real. Once I drank the ambrosia—once I was dosed with eros—it was like I lost all sense of time and place. I can vaguely remember Aisling telling me to meet her, but it feels like a dream.
Plus…she can’t just be running loose, right?
If she is, why hasn’t she come home?
I keep those questions in mind as I take the path to the cliff, gravel crunching under my boots. The night air tastes like salt and rust; it’s thick with the scent of the sea below. Aisling stands at the edge, a dark figure against the backdrop of churning waves. Her cloak flaps in the wind like the wings of some nocturnal bird, revealing a white dress beneath…and I can still smell my own scent on her, incense mingled with her sugar.
It’s fucking intoxicating.
“Evening,” I say as I step closer, my voice barely rising above the roar of the ocean.
Aisling turns to me, the hood of her cloak falling back to reveal those fierce blue eyes that seem to cut straight through the bullshit of the world. “Luka.”
“Didn’t peg you for a midnight wanderer,” I say, stepping closer.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I gesture around. “Figured you for a prisoner here.”
She frowns, her eyes gleaming with something feral. “Sometimes the betas who look after me look the other way. They know what it’s like to need air that isn’t canned. And…well, this is an island. It’s not like I can just take a boat whenever I feel like it.”
She goes silent, a reminder that she is in fact a prisoner here, even if she walks free. I shuffle slightly closer, my hands shoved in my pockets purely so I don’t feel compelled to touch her.
“How are Gunnar and Oberon?” she asks quietly.
