Percival Whitworth’s hands were soft until they weren’t.

“Wake up. My rut-fever’s broken,” he breathes against my ear. “There’s something I want to show you.”

I tense. Is this it? The moment he slides a blade in?

Swallowing around the sudden tightness in my throat, I roll over to face him. “What is it?” The question comes out small.

Something complicated, almost like regret, ripples across Evander’s features. There and gone in a blink—an illusion, maybe.

Then he’s grabbing my chemise from the floor and pulling it over my head. “A surprise. Do you trust me?”

Four simple words that rip through me.

I want to break her first. Get her to trust me.

The cold reality of it knifes deep. This strange, fragile thing between us is nothing more than an illusion. It’s the same game we’ve been playing since he came into my bedroom in Hellevig and pressed his dagger to my throat.

What are you doing?

Playing with my food before eating it.

I shove the hurt down, lock it up tight. “For tonight, I trust you. Just for tonight.”

And never again.

His breath hitches. Then he’s sliding his arms beneath me and scooping me up, carrying me out to the garden.

The roses are painted in opalescent shades by Aethertide, the usual pulsing red glow more like starlight now. The air is thick with the flowers’ decadent perfume.

“Close your eyes.” When I tense, he gentles me with a squeeze, ducking his head to nuzzle into my hair. “We’re just flying.”

Okay. He’s still playing with me, then.

So I let my eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the familiar swoop in my stomach as he launches us skyward. The wind whips through my hair. I press my face into the crook of his neck and inhale, memorizing the scent of him, the way his skin feels against mine. The pressure of his fingers as he traces idle patterns over my spine.

I want to capture this stolen moment in amber before he turns on me. I’m going to remember what a liar looks like, sounds like, smells like.

At the end, I won’t beg.

His lips graze my temple. “Look, Bryony.”

The sight steals the air from my lungs.

Color, so much color. Indigos and rouges, emeralds and golds all tangling together, the stars strewn through the expanse like diamonds on black velvet. Aethertide gentled, but no less lovely. The celestial storm ripples and flows, its reflection shimmering on the placid surface of the Osbu until sea and sky meld together.

And in the water, as far as I can see, are ribbons of turquoise and purple. They glow against the black like entire galaxies trapped in the depths of the sea. Each wave sends another ripple through the hues, shifting shades.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

Is that what this is? A final tender moment before he kills me?

“Aethertide’s light activates bioluminescent algae in the water,” Evander tells me, spiraling us down to a narrow crescent of the shore. He alights on the sand, bare feet sinking in. “Would’ve been a shame for you to sleep through a once-in-a-century event.”

He lowers me to the ground.

“I suppose I won’t be around for the next one,” I say, stepping away. It comes out too flat, too raw.

Evander goes still, hands flexing at his sides.

I don’t wait for his reply before stripping off my chemise and tossing it aside. The night air pebbles my skin as I wade out into the shallows. Effervescent streaks of teal and lavender swirl around my calves with each step, leaving glowing contrails in my wake.

Fabric rustles behind me, followed by the soft noise of clothing hitting the sand.

“Never took you for the indecent bathing sort,” Evander calls.

So we’re not going to talk about it, then. We’re still going to play pretend. One last game for Aethertide, while he’s still Evander and not the Wolf.

One last game before I lose.

I glance over my shoulder. The aetherlight loves him, gilding the sculpted planes of his body as he strides into the surf after me. It catches in his tawny feathers as he flexes his wings. What was it he told me last night?

Monsters are always beautiful. The prettier we are, the easier it is to fool a clever girl into letting us devour her.

But I wasn’t clever, was I? I was so, so stupid.

“I figured I should live a little.” I flash him a brittle smile. “Enjoy the scenery before it’s ripped away.”

His eyes flare, lips compressing into a flat, bloodless line.

And then he’s on me. His mouth is gentle against mine, the barest pressure. As if he’s savoring the taste of me. I shiver as his kisses skim my cheekbone, my temple, my jaw. He’s breathing me in like he’s trying to pull me into his lungs and keep me there.

He’s fucking with me. I know that. The thing is, he never lied about what this was, never promised me anything. But somewhere between his healing hands on my wounds and his body over mine in the dark, I’m the idiot who let myself believe this might be real.

That he might decide to let me live, after all.

“What would you think,” he murmurs, “if I took my time tonight? Kissed every inch of your skin? Learned what you taste like under the stars?”

I hate him. I hate him so much for this.

It’s so easy to sink into him, to surrender to the seductive pull and let him take me apart. To pretend, just for a little while longer, that he isn’t meticulously planning my destruction even as he holds me like I’m something precious. Something worthy of worship.

It’s been centuries since I took my time killing a Devaliant. And this one has a mouth that’s good for more than talking.

I pull away. “How about a game first?” I ask with forced lightness.

His head tilts. “What sort of game?”

The kind where I dig my fingers into all his soft, hidden places, and pry up his secrets. Discover why he and his brother hate my family.

I deserve that much.

“Answer a handful of questions honestly. Think you can manage that?”

His expression sharpens. “Only if you agree to the same.”

“I suppose that’s only fair. We each get three chances to refuse before forfeiting victory to your opponent. The winner chooses the penalty, and the loser endures.”

“And the prize?”

I lift my gaze to his. “Complete surrender.”

She’s a nice piece of ass to enjoy while I’m bored.

Evander’s hand finds my wrist beneath the water, his thumb sweeping over my pulse in a deliberate caress. Teasing. “I accept your terms. Ask your question.”

I don’t even pause to think. “Before you were Alexios’ Wolf, who were you?”

Something dark passes through his features. For a moment, I think he’ll refuse to answer.

“A prince,” he says flatly.

A startled sound leaves me. “An actual prince? With a crown and everything? Of where?”

I try to picture him in court finery, but it’s impossible to reconcile with the savage god before me.

Evander smirks. “You’re up to four questions, greedy girl. But I’ll indulge you. My brother and I were princes of Turpori.”

“The Court of Radiance?” I can’t hide my surprise.

Our history books barely survived the war, but I’d read what little remained. Turpori was a territory of light and metal, ruled by Astraea, who was ancient even among the Eternals. She’d been one of the last to fall before the Accords were struck. I could never figure out how humans had managed to kill a goddess that old and powerful.

Evander nods. “When my mother—” His voice catches, and my heart squeezes painfully. “When she died, her territory was divided between Alexios and Severin. That’s our way. Land always returns to surviving Eternals.”

I want to reach for him and smooth my fingers over the stark lines of his face until that grief eases. Until I remember—

She looks at me like what we’re doing is more than just fucking.