As the fog of climax recedes, awareness returns by degrees. I feel him everywhere—the drum of his heart, his warm skin against mine as he removes his hand from my throat and checks me over, his touch gentle as he uses his power to heal the bruises.

I should dislodge him. Roll him off me and stagger away to lick my wounds in private. Reestablish distance and lines of demarcation. But this moment, with sweat drying on our skin and his scent in my lungs, is a reprieve. I’m not ready to relinquish it yet.

So, I just breathe. And for a time, Evander allows it. His fingers card through my hair, soothing me like I’m precious. Something cherished.

But I’m not.

It was all a game she thought she could win.

I compose myself and push him off, not looking at him as I get out of bed. “If you need it again tonight, use your hand. I’m done being your toy.”

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38

BRYONY

THE SKY IS the color of a fresh bruise as I step out into the garden.

I hug my arms tight around myself. It’s not just from the cold. Every brush of the breeze feels like Evander’s touch skimming along my skin—teasing, maddening, inescapable.

I hate that every little sensation reminds me of him. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of praise was just another weapon in his arsenal, designed to hurt me. And I let him. When I started trusting him, I might as well have given him the dagger and bared my throat.

I suppose I should be grateful. At least now, I know where I stand. The Blade drew a line in the sand, and it was a brutal reminder of my fate.

Four days now. Four measly sunrises until the hourglass runs out, and the Void comes calling. No more lies, no more pretending.

No more negotiation.

The familiar thrum of magic prickles along my nape a moment before wingbeats shatter the pre-dawn hush. Amara touches down in a flutter of dark feathers, her wings folding against her back.

She cocks her head, pale eyes studying me. Looking for blood, probably. Bruises. Bite marks. Any evidence that the Wolf used me too roughly. But he’d healed them all after that brutal fuck hours ago.

“Well,” she drawls, “you’re in one piece. That’s fortunate. Did he treat you well? Do I need to launch his eyeballs into the Osbu?”

Heat floods my cheeks as a wave of sense-memories bombard me. The exquisite stretch and ache of him inside me, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes. The weight of him between my thighs, pressing me down. The slick glide of his sweat-damp skin against mine. His nose buried in my hair as we panted our completion.

I could make you pray to me. I could make you pray every fucking night you have left.

No. Stop.

I shove the images down. Box them up with all the other treacherous things I can’t afford to want.

“I’m fine. Wasn’t anything I didn’t beg for.” I fold my arms over my chest. “But I don’t want to waste time talking about the Wolf. Tell me about Theo. Did you see her?”

Amara sighs. “I spied through the windows. The palace is crawling with Idris’ loyalists, and he’s keeping her confined to her chambers. Since he can’t exactly kill Alexios’ only other Anchor…”

Dread turns my blood to ice as I imagine my sister at my uncle’s mercy. Idris has been itching to put Theo in her place for years.

“Did they hurt her? When you found her, was she—”

“Nothing that won’t heal,” Amara says. “Some nasty bruising. Defensive wounds on her knuckles where she went scrapping. Looks like she gave as good as she got. Laid out one of Idris’ bootlickers cold, from what I heard.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe around the vice clamped over my lungs. My nails cut into my palms, and I relish the bright flare of pain. It gives me something to focus on.

“You couldn’t get her out?”

Amara scrubs a hand over her face. “Tried to. Almost fucked it all sideways, too. I remembered the bastards guarding her have Alexios’ Claim, and he’d feel it the second I made a move. Since I’m not an Eternal yet, I couldn’t survive the punishment. Having him splatter my brains across the palace corridor from a thousand miles away would defeat the purpose of a rescue.”

Still, letting Theodora stay locked up while I’m here with the Wolf is unthinkable. If I have four more days, I intend to make them count.

I exhale shakily. “I’m going to Hellevig.”

Amara’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want to run that by me again?”

“Theo needs me. So I’m going to get her.”

“Not alone, you aren’t. What exactly is the plan here? Storm the gates and fight your way to her royal chambers?”

I roll my eyes. “Please. I’m reckless, not suicidal.” I turn to pace along the garden path, restless energy buzzing beneath my skin. “There’s a network of old war tunnels under the palace—escape routes in case the enemy breached the walls. Theo had them cleared and fortified after she took the regency. No one will even know I’m there. You can fly her to my family’s old hunting cabin in the south. It’s isolated.”

She hums her approval. “Not a terrible plan. But I notice you’re not tripping over yourself to get the Wolf in on this mission.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

“What, afraid he’ll swoop in and steal your shot at playing valiant rescuer?”

“He made it clear I’m free to go whenever I please. I negotiated the terms when I agreed to stay here.” I run a hand through my hair. “The Blade knows I’m alive. He gave the Wolf five days to end me before he finishes the job himself.”

Amara’s mouth falls open. “You’re shitting me.”

“Afraid not,” I say with a bitter laugh.

Something complicated moves across her face. “He could always Claim you, you know.” She says it gently. Like she’s trying to brace for impact.

And oh, there it is—that laughable suggestion. As if Evander would ever lower himself to Claim me. The only time he ever brings it up is when he’s trying to manipulate me.

If you’re lying to me, the Blade’s words to Evander whisper in my memories, if you Claim her, or worse, soulbond with her, I’ll dig my fingers into your chest and crush your traitorous heart in my fist.

“I’m disposable, remember? His entertainment.” Something squeezes in my chest. “The Wolf won’t Claim me. And I don’t want him to.”

I’m amazed my voice emerges steady. Level. Because even now, with fury simmering in my veins and his betrayal still fresh, some pathetic scrap of me hurts at the rejection—at how easily he played me.

“An Eternal’s Claim is ironclad,” Amara presses. “Not even Alexios can touch you if the Wolf lays one on you. It’s the oldest, most sacred law.”

I shake my head, throat closing up. “No. He doesn’t give a damn about me.”

I’m just having a bit of fun. It’s not like I’m keeping her.

“That’s not true. I’ve seen the way he looks at you—”

“Like he wants to fuck me,” I snap. I let out a shaky breath. “I’ve made my peace with it.” Liar, a small, treacherous voice whispers. “I’m not binding myself to another god.”

Especially not him, I don’t say. If he Claimed me, he’d sense how close sentiment has burrowed into me. I couldn’t tolerate the excruciating intimacy of his ownership.

“Wait here for me,” I tell Amara. “I’m going to go pack a few things, and we’ll go.”

She nods, her gaze searching mine. “Okay.”

I stride back into the tower. As I wind through corridors, my mind refuses to settle.

I’m done being used. I’m through with his secrets and games and manipulations. After everything, he deserves to have me pry his armor wide open.