He sat up straight. “I’m not leaving you here. I’m coming back for you.”

  “Al, it might be better for everyone if you did leave me. Vasso won’t harm me.”

  “Back to this again. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that demon put a fucking spell on you.” He put his sock on, then a boot.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Isn’t it?” he bit back at her. “Sera, we had something until we set foot in this place.”

  “One kiss doesn’t mean anything,” she said. He looked like she had punched him.

  “That’s a lie. I know you felt it.” He slipped on a second sock and boot. The glow from the other side of the pool painted his face blue, cutting into the harsh lines and furrowed brow.

  “Regardless of what I felt, I’m not putting you or anyone else in danger because you want to play hero and bring me back to where I’m not wanted.”

  “I want you there.”

  “But your Council doesn’t!” She stood to face him, raising her chin in defiance.

  Alistair crossed his arms. “And what if I don’t give you a choice?”

  There it was, that prideful warlock bullshit. Not pity, not understanding, but control.

  Picking up her boots, she leaned toward him, her voice low. “If you try to take me, Alistair, I promise it will be the last thing you do.”

  Those crystal-blue eyes of his seemed to bulge at her threat. Sera left him in the center of the platform, not willing to continue the conversation. Rage ran through her. Sera’s magic snapped tight, and she rubbed at the pain in her chest.

  The audacity to imply he could force her, take her against her will. She almost laughed at how far off the mark he was. She could kill him with a thought. The amount of darkness she could wrap him in, and the fact that he couldn’t heal properly from it…

  Snik whined, chasing after her as she rounded the corner toward her bedroom.

  “Snik, I need some time alone.” He gave a cry. She softened her tone. “I’m sorry, boy, I just need some time.”

  Her friend bowed in understanding and trotted down the hall.

  Sera closed the door and rested her forehead on it, pressing into the ache radiating from her sternum. She wanted to scream—cry.

  “Are you all right?” His voice, like smoke, caressed her spine. Tendrils of mist and fog surrounded her, brushed against her rib cage and the length of her neck. She shivered. “I felt you again.”

  “I’m fine.” She turned, leaning her back against the door. Vasso stood in the shadowed corner of the room. His cool mask was in place, but she noticed the shudder in his jaw, the way he instructed his magic to caress her arms, her cheek, to soothe her.

  Guiding a tendril of her own, she envisioned herself stroking his temple. Vasso jumped, clearly not used to being the recipient of misty caresses, then closed his eyes. She ran her smoky fingers across his forehead, around his ear, and down his corded throat.

  Her magic passed over the folds of his shirtsleeves, flattening every wrinkle of fabric under her phantom fingertips before grasping his warm hands. She wished it were something as simple as a spell. But she knew by the way he looked at her that it wasn’t.

  He was just as tortured. Just as hesitant to let this knowing between them happen. A wave of heat radiated from him as he crossed the room. His magic poured over her, setting her insides alight. Shadow, they weren’t even touching, and she was breathless.

  “Tell me the truth.” She hated that she had to ask him. Hated that Alistair’s lies had burrowed their way into her. “Why weren’t you at dinner?”

  Vasso caged her between his arms, put his mouth to her ear, and whispered, “Because I couldn’t stand to see you near him. Him looking at you…” She couldn’t stop the pull, the primal want of her body to be molded to his. “I think about you all day and night, for every second you’ve been under my roof. It’s only gotten worse since we saw those moments with Ophelia.” His eyes were on her lips now. She parted them. “What have you done to me?”

  “Vasso…”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep, savoring breath. As if the sound of his name on her lips were a prayer, a call to the almighty goddess, and Sera was his salvation. Her heart pounded.

  Power.

  She had power over him. And Shadow save her, she wanted to abuse it.

  “Seraphina.” He looked at the ceiling. She watched his throat bob before he met her eyes again. “Just say the word…”

  “To continue? Or to stop?”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

  Inching closer, she stared at the demon lord. So many times she’d thought of his kind as monsters. This man was anything but.

  Stretching to the tips of her toes, Sera brushed her lips against his. Vasso stood so still she wondered if he was drawing in air.

  Then, on a shaky exhale, he said against her mouth, “You’ll be the death of me.”

  Sera devoured him. She gripped his shoulders, and he practically purred when her nails sank into his skin. He lifted her from the floor, guiding her legs around his waist.

  She gasped.

  He held her firm with one arm steady against her spine, his other hand gripping her inner thigh, all while he teased her tongue with his. Closer and closer his fingers inched toward the apex of her thighs.

  She needed him. Now.

  His kiss moved to her neck, and she moaned.

  Sera couldn’t remember the last time she’d ached for someone. Didn’t want to remember.

  He carried her to the bed and knelt on the mattress. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.” His breath was hot on the hollow of her neck. “Since I knew you were mine.”

  Sera bit her lip as Vasso brushed the strap of her dress down. He scraped his teeth against her shoulder, leaving a wake of molten ache pulsing lower and lower. With her breast exposed, she arched her back, and Vasso took her nipple in his mouth.

  Her world was obliterated. Somewhere deep down, she’d known it would be like this. Maybe from that moment in the woods when she’d given him that scar on his cheek.

  She needed him lower, but he stayed right there, licking, sucking, grazing with his teeth. Heat pooled between her legs as Vasso pushed her skirt higher on her hips.

  A pounding on the door had her jolting upright.

  “If that’s him, he’s dead.” A guttural tone of violence rolled from the back of Vasso’s throat. He didn’t let her go, and Sera was pretty sure his words alone would push her over the edge at any moment.

  “Seraphina? You wished to speak to me?” Ophelia’s voice floated into the room.

  “I’ll be right out,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She slid from beneath Vasso and righted her dress. Vasso crossed the room, desire lacing in his red eyes.

  “We’re not done,” he whispered, then kissed her forehead.

  She gave him a sly grin. “We’ll see.”

  He tilted his head to the side and disappeared into a pool of mist. Once they’d relieved some tension, she’d have him teach her that little trick.

  “Ophelia.” She opened the door with a breathless smile. “I was looking for you.”

  “Not very hard, I see.” Ophelia raised a brow at Sera and turned down the hallway. “I’m leaving you my grimoire.”

  Sera wanted to protest and demand that Ophelia keep her beloved book of prophecies, but she knew that the oracle wouldn’t need it within the Citadel walls. Life was cruel. That was a lesson she’d learned long ago.

  “Come,” Ophelia said more softly. “Ask me your questions, for we don’t have much time left.”

  Sera settled into the plush pillows on one of the ruby-red sofas in the small seating area off the main chamber. On a low table, a complete tea set with baked goods awaited them. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was and grabbed one.

  “You said that you think I’m the witch from the prophecy. To unite the coven under the Gehenna banner once again?”

  Ophelia nodded.

  “If I’m that witch, would that make it my destiny?” She had to know. Her brand was already on Vasso’s forearm, and if that was her destiny, then she needed information. She needed to know about Supay and the levels of Gehenna.

  “Destiny and fate are often interchanged. Everything is up to interpretation, of course. We have power, and destiny is our potential. You choose your destination. But fate…” Ophelia nibbled at a pastry. “Fate is pulled by a force we have no control over. It stays the same no matter what threads we pull.”

  “Supay is the leader of the underworld.”

  “Shadow, no. If he were, we would have lost this world long ago. He is the steward. A placeholder for when the heir comes into full power. Supay must still abide by the heir’s wishes. Well, he’s supposed to.”

  “Our texts didn’t mention a new ruler coming into power. That would be a severe oversight.” A change of power in Gehenna would be felt throughout the world. Magic would react in a way no one could predict. The last time there’d been a new ruler was over six hundred years ago. The texts said Eraphon shook with such force that it caused the Lanac mountain range to split.

  Ophelia shrugged. “I don’t know much else. Vasso would know better, being part of the high court.”

  “What’s happening in the Citadel?”

  “Ahh, now there is a question,” Ophelia said as she poured out two steaming cups to the brim. “Alistair hasn’t been forthcoming with information?”

  Sera rubbed absently at the middle of her chest. Ophelia’s eyes tracked the movement. She couldn’t call it pain, exactly. It was a current. Always pulling from her, a tether linking her to an unknown.

  “I’m asking you. Not Alistair.” Sera brought a teacup to her lips. The steam tickled her nose, and she blew it away.

  “The Citadel has put itself in a precarious situation. Alliances have been made with humans and the aliato, a move even I did not see coming.”

  It was dangerous. So much talk of balance between light and dark. Now it seemed the scales were tipping. Sera furrowed her brow and set down her cup right before Raven landed on the sofa beside her.

  Ophelia smiled brilliantly at her familiar.

  All oracles had a beauty to them, with their light hair and eyes, but Ophelia seemed transcendent when she smiled. Sera pictured her as a goddess bathed in light instead of darkness.

  “The city is frightened. The light-bringers are a vicious race, and the coven is witnessing that firsthand.”

  “What about my friend Dominick?”

  “He is well. You don’t need to worry for him.”

  Sera slumped deeper into the sofa, a weight lifted. “Can you tell me about the process of regeneration? For demons?”

  “You’ll have to discuss that with Vasso.”

  Sera rubbed her chest again. “What about this pulling?”

  The oracle looked stunned. “A pulling, you say? Where does it pull you?”

  “Does that matter?”

  “Very much so, Seraphina.” Ophelia sipped her tea, eyeing her over the cup’s rim. “A fate tether can lead you to love or demise. Fate never shares. We have little knowledge of those tethered of the heart.”

  Another cryptic message. Fate. Love or demise. Riddles forever burrowing themselves into Sera’s brain from this blasted oracle. “Can you tell me where Vasso is?”

  A lupine smile crossed Ophelia’s face. “He’s in his study. I think you’re familiar with the area.”

  Sera stood. “Thank you, Ophelia, for taking this time with me. I wish it were different. I wish I could have known you long before any of this happened.” The thought of Ophelia at the hands of the Council made her sick. If she could change it, she would, but what could she do?

  The oracle looked torn. “Seraphina. About your father… I wanted to tell you that he’s alive, but you must know that he isn’t… He’s being blocked somehow. His strings, I cannot pull them.” Ophelia put her teacup down on the tray. “Yours are golden, which means someone is protecting you within the Citadel walls. But his are gray.”

  “But he’s alive?”

  Ophelia grimaced, like maybe he shouldn’t be.

  “Thank you, Ophelia. It’s at least good to know.” She had a father, and he was out there. Waiting for her. Ophelia spoke in riddles. Being blocked could mean many things, but that was secondary to saving Nora.

  She needed to get her sister back.

  Then she’d find her father.

  Chapter fifty-five

  Seraphina

  Sera made her way through the underground manor, past the dining room and down the stone halls bathed in candlelight. She didn’t know how she was going to bring up her questions. She’d barely figured out what questions she wanted to ask.

  As she stood in silence, watching him through the crack of the door, a warm glow came over her.

  His hair flopped forward, and he was scrawling something into his ledger, quill in hand. She thought of the tether between them. A fate tether, Ophelia had said. Something that tied them together, no matter the cost. Vasso’s dead face against her hand flashed in her mind.

  She gave the tether a yank. Vasso rubbed his chest, then looked right at her.

  He gave her a wry smile. “Sneaky witch.” He left his desk, pulled her into his study, and closed the door. “Are you back for more?” he said against her lips, locking them with hers. She wanted to melt into him, forget everything for a while, and just… feel.

  “Wait,” she said. “I have some questions.”

  He straightened for a second but didn’t let her go. “Go ahead.”

  “In the forest, when I saved the elken king, I lit two of the agbris on fire. They were down and burning—” Vasso dropped his hands from her waist; the flirtatious look was replaced by a neutral mask. “Al explained to me that demons can regenerate.”

  Vasso stepped back, circling the desk, and took a seat in his chair. This didn’t seem to be going well. She should have known that by mentioning Alistair, she’d get some sort of reaction. That had been stupid. But all she wanted was to keep herself safe, and if there was a certain number of repeated kills she needed to reach in a fight, the more prepared she was, the better.

  Sera perched herself at the edge of the velvet chair across from him.

  “So you’re asking me to reveal demon secrets.”

  “I guess so. I mean, apparently I’m half demon, so it would affect me too.” She hadn’t even thought about what that meant for her, but didn’t plan on trying the theory.

  “Do you think me naive, Seraphina?” The light cast sharp shadows across his face. “I’ve been alive a long time, and if you think I’d share one of demonkind’s most valuable secrets, you’re mistaken.”

  “But—”

  “No.” He pushed up his shirtsleeves, revealing her raven brand on his forearm. “Just because I’m dying to bed you doesn’t mean I will lay down my secrets.”

  Lust. She wanted him without care or consequence, despite what that might mean for her.

  “I’m assuming you know a bit more now about this fate tether?” Vasso pointed between them. Sera touched her chest. “That’s a yes, then.”

  “Yes, her cryptic bullshit about love or demise.” Sera stood, already tired of the turn this conversation was taking.

  “Perfect,” he said and escorted her to the door.

  “It’s like you fear me.”

  “I fear what you could tell your precious bodyguard.” He sneered.

  Sera froze. He thought she was going to tell Al. Give away their biggest secret for an advantage. Her voice shook. “I can’t believe you.”

  “Why not? He still hovers around you like you’re his to keep. I’m sure he’d love some extra information about how to defeat us that he could feed to your Council.”

  “So that’s it? You think I’m going to cause your downfall by revealing secrets?” She fisted her hands. Her magic raged within her as she glared at his perfect face.

  “Did you forget that I lay dead in your hands?”

  “You’re a demon lord! You could ruin me without a thought!”

  Vasso let out a breath and took a step back. She held herself, not moving, only watching him pace across the dark carpet, one, two, three times. Then he was back. Close enough to breathe in, close enough to kiss. “I could ruin you in more ways than one, Subdina.”

  Sera scoffed. She didn’t do what she wanted to: curse him, scream, point out that the scar on his cheek was from her. Getting into Gehenna was more important, and she wouldn’t be able to do it without him.

  He towered over her. “I would burn and rebuild the world with you at its center. I would end every life on Eraphon, maiming and killing any being who would think to take you from me. Burn them with the vatra we share—and it makes no sense.” He caught a piece of her hair between his fingers and twirled, seemingly hypnotized by the feel of it. “We barely know each other.” He pursed his lips. “I’ve waited three hundred and fifty years—”

  “You’re how old?”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fate has decided we are tied together. We both saw how I ended. I’d be a fool to tell you my realm’s secrets in hopes that whenever I die, you’ll forget your promises to me and share them with your coven.”

  Metaphysical bullshit. Fate bullshit. Every second of her life felt like it was layered in a thin coating of shit.

  “And what do you choose, Vasso? Love, or should we kill each other? That’s what demise means, after all.”

  His brows scrunched as if he couldn’t believe what she was asking. “There was never a choice for me.”

  Her heart pounded. The tether between them grew thicker, from a single strand to a braid, all while she was staring daggers at him.

  She wanted to believe that they could be together, but what could be given could be taken away. Sera knew the transactions involved in “love” well.

  “I don’t want to fight with you. I just can’t trust you yet,” he said, and Shadow help her, he sounded genuine.

  “You seem to trust me enough to be your naughty little plaything.”

  His mouth broke into a wicked grin that had her closing her thighs tight. “I want you to be my plaything, oh, I do.” He grabbed her chin. “I could be yours too,” he whispered against her lips. “Give you that power… let you control me.”