I shake my head as the memory of that day crashes over me. “If I had shown you how much it was killing me to watch you go, you would’ve never stopped trying to come back for me. I had to protect you.”

  “What is it you were protecting me from?” he demands. “Ljómur? We were already there, Xen. We were part of that world. I would rather have been there with you than anywhere else, but you took away my choice.”

  “Because I knew what you would choose.”

  “I would’ve chosen you,” he says as agitation tightens his features. “Every single fucking time, I would’ve chosen you.”

  I wince at his anger. “I was choosing you—”

  “You were taking the easy way out,” he accuses, and his eyes beg me to say something, anything, to make it better.

  A pained laugh leaves my throat, and I shake my head. “Do you really think anything about this has been easy? Watching you go changed me, Bash. It destroyed me, but I did it for you. And I’m sorry.”

  My voice cracks as I swallow, trying to get myself back under control.

  “I’ll never stop being sorry for what it did to you. I’ll make it up to you. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

  I inch closer, and he closes his eyes but doesn’t pull away, so I push my luck with more bold words.

  “We can be good together again,” I whisper.

  My mouth finds his in a touch that’s barely more than a brush, and his whimper is helpless as he weaves his fingers into my hair. There’s nothing tentative about the pressure of his lips. Nothing unfamiliar or questioning, only unrestrained need and unspoken words. His nails scrape against my scalp, and I shiver, ready to dive in headfirst when he rips his mouth from mine.

  His chest heaves as his pulse thuds in his neck, and the hand that was just in my hair now rests on my sternum, holding me back. I push my weight forward into his palm, but don’t force myself closer.

  “Let me in, Bash. Please?”

  “It’s so easy,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me, though his eyes don’t leave mine. “So fucking easy to fall back into this with you.”

  “So do it,” I plead. “Fall with me.”

  His lips purse as he stands, but as agitated as his movements are, his hands are careful as they hold on to me. His grip never loosens as he eases my feet to the ground. The muscles in his jaw clench as he grits his teeth, trapping whatever words are trying to break free.

  “I need time,” he manages to say, and turns toward the door.

  “Time for what?” I hurry to follow, gripping the edge of his shirt.

  He whirls and storms back to me, lifting me by my thighs and carrying me backward until I’m sitting on the concrete barrier. My stomach swoops at the drop from this rooftop to the streets below.

  There’s no fear, though, as I clutch his shirt and stare into his eyes. He cups my cheeks again—gently, so gently, like he’s afraid I might break.

  Like I wouldn’t welcome becoming his ruin.

  Wind gusts between the buildings, and my hair swirls around us. For a moment, I think he’ll just walk away and leave me here, hanging off the end of the world, where it would take so little to teeter over the edge. But his hands don’t loosen their grip, and he doesn’t let me fall.

  “I need time to remember you aren’t the bad guy,” he says, lips brushing the side of my face, “and to believe you won’t hurt me again.”

  The chasm in my heart gouges deeper, but I don’t argue. Although his words sting, they’re valid.

  “Whatever you need, darling,” I whisper. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”

  His restraint snaps as he pulls me forward, his kiss more bruising this time. My knees spread as his arm bands around my waist, and the breeze hits my bare skin as my shirt lifts under his hand. Fabric squeezes between my fingers as I tug him closer.

  His groan vibrates against my lips as he works my mouth open. My tongue dips into his mouth, but he chases it with his in this back-and-forth fight for dominance that’s so uniquely ours.

  My hands move to cradle his cheeks as his roam my hair and body, and we kiss until I’m sure I’m going to drown in it. Our bodies are fused, pushed together until there’s no space between us.

  We're chest to chest, hip to hip, with arms binding us like stitches.

  There’s no self-preservation here.

  No caution.

  We both rip ourselves bare with no concern for the consequences.

  By the time he pulls away, my lips are swollen, and I ache to my very bones. Patience has never been a weapon in my arsenal, and I’m desperate to move past this gray area.

  Bash stares at me for a long moment. He cradles my head and tucks me into his neck, and the show of tenderness brings me to the verge of tears.

  “If we do this, that’s it for me, Xen,” he says as he kisses my temple. “There’s no coming back from this a second time. No moving on, and no getting over it if you break my heart again.”

  “I won’t,” I whisper, still clutching his shirt.

  The thud of a door sounds from behind us, and I wait for Bash to leave me—separate himself so he can pretend there’s nothing here. But he doesn’t pull away, only runs his hand over my hair as someone climbs the stairs.

  “Oh,” Sakane says when he spots us. “Um, Dom? Can I, uh, steal you? Sorry to interrupt…”

  “Yeah, of course,” Bash responds, and he pulls me off the ledge and places me on my feet. Gentle fingers pinch my chin and tilt my face to his, and he kisses me once more.

  “Time, princess. I just need time. Will you wait for me?”

  “I’ll always wait for you,” I answer softly enough to stay between us, and another wave of emotion crosses his face before he swipes his thumb over my bottom lip and walks away.

  Bash

  Feet shuffle outside my door, and nervous whispers pass in a heated back-and-forth. I huff a sigh as I glance up from my notes, tapping my pencil’s eraser against the papers spread out across my desk. Ever since Xeni told me about the rifts and their reaction to the Drüinae's magic, my brain has been spinning.

  At Ljómur, there was something I’d been trying to prove for years before they sent me away. My hypothesis was simple: the mates’ intention mattered more than anything.

  The couples living there voluntarily caused greater reactions, and in more consistent numbers. My colleagues assumed this was because of their living situation. Nothing more than a product of being together in their comfortable apartment versus being locked in cages and separated.

  I wasn’t convinced.

  I believed they were more successful because they wanted to be.

  It was a theory I’d never shared with my superiors, only jotting notes and testing ideas in places I wouldn’t be overseen. Being at Ljómur wasn’t my choice, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fight back in my way. Withholding information seemed like the best form of resistance.

  “I gave him bad news last time.” Sakane’s voice carries from beyond the door, and I slide off my reading glasses and rub the bridge of my nose.

  “No, I did!” Cato hisses back.

  I sigh at the realization that I won’t get any more work done, then glance out at the darkening sky outside. I’ve lost hours to my research, so the interruption might be for the best.

  “I can hear you, you know,” I call through the door.

  The hall falls silent.

  “Can we come in?” Cato finally asks, and I laugh to myself as I tell them to enter.

  They step inside, with Sakane shuffling between his feet and Cato’s lips pulled tight. The scarring on his face is more prominent with his cheek taut, and the puckered skin catches the faint light from the window.

  “Well?” I ask after it becomes clear they aren’t going to speak voluntarily. “Who’s going to give me the bad news?”

  Sakane wrings his hands as he glances over his shoulder into the empty hallway. “It isn’t really bad news… just maybe not… the best?”

  My brows lift as my patience wanes.

  “Xeni is leaving,” he blurts.

  Surprise knocks me back in my seat before I launch myself to my feet. “What do you mean, leaving?!”

  He winces and holds his hands out in front of him. “Not like leaving-leaving… just leaving the building? Going… out?”

  “Where?”

  Cato crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue rolling over his teeth behind his lip as he looks anywhere but at me.

  “What did you do?” I demand.

  He has the decency to be ashamed as his eyes finally meet mine. “You know how he can be!” he complains as his hands fly up into the air, gesturing wildly. “He wanted to come see you, and I…”

  He trails off and glances away again.

  “You what, Cato?” I demand.

  “Might’ve egged him on a little,” he mutters.

  My palms land on the desk as I lean forward and glare. “What did you say?”

  “I just… kind of said that you were too busy to deal with his bullshit right now.”

  Sakane elbows him, and Cato glares at him before letting the rest of his confession spill in a rush.

  “And I might’ve insinuated I’d be keeping you company tonight so he didn’t need to worry about you.”

  “Cato! He knows we aren’t together!”

  “I know,” he argues, “but he’s just so fucking cocky, and it’s the only thing that knocks him down a few pegs.”

  “Damn it,” I mutter as I push past them and charge down the hall, but when I yank open Xeni’s door, his tiny room is empty. His warm amber scent surrounds me as I walk through, running my fingertips along the messy bed with a rueful laugh.

  He was never one to clean up after himself.

  My heart thuds as I move into the bathroom, looking for evidence of a broken promise. Droplets of blood, a discarded razor, or the certainty that comes from knowing someone you love is in pain.

  I find none of that, and breathe a deep sigh of relief.

  “He isn’t here,” Ego says from the doorway. “He was restless.”

  I step back into the bedroom to look at her. “So you let him go?”

  She tuts and rolls her eyes as her arms cross. “You know as well as I do none of us could hold him here by force. I told him where he could safely blow off some steam.”

  My rising temper immediately withers, replaced by a shock of guilt at leaving him alone. Two days have passed since our talk on the rooftop, and I’ve been too emotional—too confused—to see him.

  “Where’d he go?”

  She cringes and twists a chunk of her short hair around her pointer finger. “Well, I wanted to make sure he went somewhere safe, ya know? A place where he wouldn’t stand out and there wouldn’t be a risk of him getting into a dangerous situation.”

  “Ego…”

  “I sent him to Zaya’s, alright?”

  My jaw tenses as I stare at her, and she flashes me an apologetic grimace. “It’s neutral ground. Humans, monsters—”

  “It’s a fucking hookup club, Ego!”

  “Oh, that’s being dramatic,” she says with a scoffing wave of her hand. “Just because it’s where you tried to hook up a few times doesn’t mean that’s all that happens there. The bar is great, the dance floor is awesome, and more importantly, no one is going to look twice at him for being there.”

  My teeth grind as I glance around the room again.

  She’s right.

  Military wouldn’t be caught dead there, and it’s a known neutral ground. Cause a scene or have words with someone? You’re out. The owners are a monster and human couple, and they don’t allow it.

  Filthy hookups in the individual bathrooms, though?

  Those they allow.

  “When did he leave?” I demand.

  She glances outside. “Half an hour ago?”

  I charge past her and head straight for the door. The entire ten-block walk to the rear of the district is a blur, and my pulse thumps harder as heavy drums ring through the air.

  Zaya’s is a warehouse that’s nearly against the city walls. Faint light floats from the open rafters, and the music is intense, full of bass and growling lyrics. I don’t recognize the name of the band written on the board outside, and I’ve got my blinders on as the bouncers wave me in.

  My eyes move down the long bar on one end, skimming the heads in search of his white hair, but I don’t find him there. The dance floor is crowded with a sea of people all moving in time to the music, and I push into the mix, craning my neck and swiveling my head in every direction. Too many dancing bodies thud against mine, and more than one hand grabs at my arm or shirt in an attempt to reel me in.

  The longer I search, the hotter my temper flares, and as I dodge another couple, a flash of white stands before me.

  Xeni dances with his head thrown back, always so graceful in the way he moves. Shoulders and hips in perfect time with the beat, sweat forming a sheen on his forehead.

  I take a step forward, then freeze as I spot the other man.

  They aren’t touching, but the distance is so minuscule they might as well be. He’s human—a tall, lanky thing with a mop of wavy brown hair—and where Xeni’s visible eye is closed, the human’s are open.

  And they are starving for what’s mine.

  My feet move before I process what I’m doing. I’m not the aggressive type, and have always settled problems with words and logic, not fists and weapons.

  But tell that to my hands as they slam into the human’s shoulders and knock him back into the group dancing behind him.

  “Hey, what the fuck?” he shouts as he fights to regain his footing.

  I jut my chin and take another step closer. “Keep your hands to your fucking self,” I snarl, ready to charge him when someone grabs my arm.

  I whirl to find Xeni, his lips parted and cheeks flushed.

  So perfectly fuckable, with his hair billowing around him in the faint light.

  “Bash?”

  I snatch his wrist and yank him closer. “You’re coming with me.”

  He follows behind me as I lead him through the throngs of people. A few amused glances flick in our direction as I all but drag him toward the bathrooms, and I pull him inside and slam the door closed.

  The music becomes muffled as I turn and push his shoulders until he hits the wall, and his gaze doesn’t leave mine. He doesn’t even blink as I press myself against him.

  “Did he touch you?” I demand.

  Xeni’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he shakes his head and asks, “Who?”

  “That fucking man you were dancing with! He was all over you!”

  “Bash, I wasn’t dancing with anyone.”

  “Bullshit.” I wrap my fingers around his shirt and tug him closer, the heat from his body nearly suffocating. “Why are you here?”

  “I needed to get out,” he breathes. “You wanted… you wanted space, and I was sick of being alone in that room.”

  “So you came here to find some company, then?”

  “Of course not,” Xeni insists, shaking his head.

  I snarl like a wild thing as I fist his shirt harder and take a step back. I drag him with me and push him toward the sink to face the mirror.

  His gaze finds mine in the reflection as I press the front of my body to the back of his, and my hands land on his hips to hold him against me.

  “Did he touch you?” I demand.

  He shakes his head, those perfect lips still parted.

  “Not here?” I squeeze his hipbones, and he whines as he tosses his head again.

  “What about here?” I demand as my palm moves up his chest, fingers toying with his nipple under his shirt.

  “No,” he breathes with a shiver.

  My hand slides down to cup his crotch, and a needier sound escapes him as I drag my palm along the length of his cock. I’m hard too, pressing into his ass and nearly combusting with the tension.

  My lips skirt his ear as I grip him through his pants. “Is this for him? Were you hard because of him?”

  “No,” he moans, pushing back against me.

  I need skin on skin, to feel the heat of his body and the twitch of his muscles. Need the contact like I need my next breath, and his eye closes as my hand slides under his shirt.

  “Look at me,” I murmur as I nip at his ear, and he obeys immediately as my thumb glides over the taut point of his nipple.

  His gaze travels down his reflection to watch as I unbutton his pants, and he makes more of those needy, whining sounds low in his throat as my fingertips dance along the crease of his hip.

  “Are you wet for him?” I ask as I nudge his jeans lower, exposing his ass.

  His head thrashes from side to side in another denial as I push his panties aside. The fabric is soaked, and slickness coats my finger as I press it against his hole.

  “Gods, please, Bash,” he moans as he arches back, whimpering as my fingertip breaches him.

  “Tell me what I want to hear,” I say as I unzip my pants and pull out my cock, groaning at the friction. “Why are you wet, princess?”

  “Because I… I like seeing you jealous.”

  “Did you dance with him to get my attention?”

  “No,” he whines. “I didn’t realize anyone was there, I swear. I didn’t… didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “But you liked how I reacted?” I ask as I line us up.

  “Yes,” he moans, arching his spine.

  Our eyes meet in the mirror and he nods, reaching back to grab my clothes and pull me closer.

  “Bash, please,” he whispers.

  The sound that leaves my throat is nearly a growl as I press forward. His lips part again, falling into a silent cry as his body accepts me.

  My fingers dig into his flesh, pitting his chest and stomach as I almost lose myself to the bliss of sinking into his heat.

  “You make me crazy,” I mutter as I kiss along his neck, flicking my tongue over his racing pulse as he watches me in the mirror. “I’m going to have to mark you so they know not to come close.”

  He tilts his head as I draw the skin between my lips. Teeth scrape, and he whines again as I suck harder. By the time I pull away, a purple blemish bruises his skin.