Despite all that weighed on her, despite what awaited them the next day, Bryce smirked. “Oh?” She half reclined, leaning back on her elbows. The bed let out a wailing creaaak.

  “Oof,” Bryce said, wincing. “If anyone has any doubt that we’re about to fuck each other’s brains out, this bed will clue them right in.”

  Hunt’s mouth kicked up at a corner, but his eyes had darkened, going right to her mouth. “I’m down for some noisy sex.” He braced a hand on one side of her, bringing his lips within grazing distance of her own. “Might be our last night on—”

  She put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t.” Her throat closed up. “Don’t say that.”

  He pulled back, his own gaze unbearably tender. “We’re going to survive, Quinlan. All of us. I promise.”

  She leaned forward, brushing her mouth against his. “I don’t want to think about tomorrow right now.”

  It was his turn to say, “Oh?”

  She traced her tongue over the seam of his lips, and he opened for her. She swept her tongue in, tasting the essence that was Hunt, her mate and husband—“I want to think about you,” she said, pulling back, grazing a hand over his pecs, his rock-hard stomach. “About you on top of me.”

  He shuddered, head bowing. She kissed the place where his halo had been, where he’d freed himself from its grasp.

  Her hand trailed lower, to his black jeans and the hardness already pushing against them. “I want to think about this,” she said, palming him, “inside of me.”

  “Fuck,” he breathed, and pivoted them, laying her out flat beneath him. “I love you.”

  She lifted her hand to cup his face, drawing his gaze to her own. “I love you more than anything in this world—or any other.”

  He closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I thought you said no goodbyes.”

  “It’s not a goodbye.” She ran her hands down the groove of his spine, his wings like velvet against her fingertips. “It’s the truth.”

  His mouth found her neck, and his teeth grazed over her pulse. “You’re my best friend, you know that?” He pulled away, staring down at her, and she couldn’t stop her star from flaring with light. “I mean, you’re my mate and wife—fuck, that still sounds weird—but you’re my best friend, too. I never thought I’d have one of those.”

  She ran her fingers over his strong jaw, his cheeks. “After Danika, I didn’t think …” Her eyes prickled, and she reached up to kiss him again. “You’re my best friend, too, Hunt. You saved me—literally, I guess, but also …” She tapped her heart, the glowing star. Another reference to this past spring, to all that had grown between them, the words spoken during what she’d thought had been her final phone call. “In here.”

  He scanned her eyes, and there was so much love in her that she couldn’t stand it, so much love that it washed over any fear and dread of what tonight and tomorrow would bring. For the moment, it was just them—Bryce and Hunt. For the moment, it was only their souls, their bodies, and nothing else mattered.

  Just Hunt. And Just Bryce.

  So she kissed him again, and there was no more talking after that.

  Hunt met her tongue stroke for stroke, and the weight of his body on hers was joy and comfort and home. Home—he was home. Her ability to teleport to him had only proved that. Home wasn’t a place or a thing, but him. Wherever Hunt was … that was where home was. She’d find him across galaxies, if need be.

  He tugged off her long-sleeved shirt, gently, lovingly. Bryce practically ripped his black shirt off his shoulders.

  Hunt chuckled, rising up to unbuckle his belt, then unzipping his pants. “So impatient.”

  She rubbed her thighs together, desperate for any friction. Especially as his impressive length sprang free, and—

  “Commando?” Bryce said, choking.

  Hunt smirked. “All the underwear they gave me on the Depth Charger was too small for this.” He palmed himself, pumping, and she groaned at the sight of the small bead of moisture at the tip of his cock. “Now let’s see what underwear you’re wearing, Quinlan,” he said, eyes dark with lust, and tugged down her leggings. She lifted her hips off the bed, coils screeching, and Hunt laughed at the sound.

  But his laugh died in his throat as he beheld the cherry-red thong. “This is what they gave you on the Depth Charger?”

  “Not the Depth Charger.” She grinned as he peeled off her leggings, exposing the tiny red lace thong. “I grabbed these from Morven’s castle—the guest rooms had whole unopened packs of them.”

  Hunt’s booming laugh set her star glowing, and the breath whooshed out of her as he gripped her knees in either hand and spread her legs wide. “If that asshole wasn’t dead, I’d send him a thank-you note.”

  Hunt pressed his mouth to the front of her underwear and huffed a hot breath.

  “Damn, Quinlan,” he said against her, and she buried a hand in his silken hair. He slipped a finger around the front of her underwear, toying with her entrance. “Gods-damn.”

  She clawed at her underwear, beyond words.

  Hunt obliged her by removing the thong with cruel, brutal slowness. She growled, but he dangled the underwear on one finger before setting it aside. “I wouldn’t want to damage this precious thing.”

  “I’m going to damage you if you don’t get in me right now,” she managed to say, opening her legs wider.

  She nearly climaxed at the raw need, the ravenous hunger on Hunt’s face. Especially as he slowly, slowly lifted his gaze to hers, filled with pure lightning.

  “Hunt,” she begged, and he lunged for her.

  He gripped her hips, lifting her off the mattress, angling her precisely how he wanted as he slid into her in a long, smooth glide.

  Bryce moaned at the size of him, filling every part of her, and she dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his ass, pinning him there for a moment. Luxuriating in the stretch of herself around him, the weight of his body against hers.

  “How?” he panted against her hair. “How the fuck can it feel this good every time?”

  Her fingers clenched harder, urging him to move. He withdrew almost to the tip, and plunged back in, hard enough that another moan slipped out of her.

  “You like that?” He angled her hips again, his to play with. “You like my cock this deep in you?”

  She couldn’t manage anything more than a nod. He rewarded her with another long stroke that had her seeing stars.

  Those were … those were actual stars dancing around them, filling the room.

  “Quinlan,” he breathed, eyes wide at the stars floating by. But she needed more friction, more pleasure. She palmed her breast, squeezing, rolling her hard nipple between her fingers.

  “Fuck,” he exploded, and thrust into her again, so deep and strong that it pushed them up the bed. Another stroke, and then his lightning was sparking over his shoulders, across his wings, a band of it over his brow like a crown—

  She lifted a glowing hand, and his lightning twined over her fingers, zapping her delicately.

  He withdrew, and her moan of protest turned into one of pure pleasure as he flipped her onto her front and plunged into her again, the fit of his cock so tight in her that she could barely stand it.

  Starlight poured out of her, and his lightning skittered over her spine, ecstasy in its wake.

  “Hunt,” she cried, release hovering just over the horizon.

  His fingers dug into her hips. “Come for me, Bryce.”

  Release crashed into her, out of her, her starlight flaring, and the room was blindingly bright. Hunt pounded into her in sure, steady strokes, and his lightning was between her thighs, his lightning was in her very blood, and all that she was and he was blended into such light, such power—

  His hoarse shout was the only warning before he spilled into her, and it sent her climaxing again, knowing how deeply he was seated in her, marking her.

  His fingers slid to her clit, stroking her through the throes, amplifying it. She reared up against him, pressing back into his chest as his fingers circled and swirled, and nothing had ever felt so perfect as wave after wave of pleasure washed over and out of her.

  And then the world stilled, the light fading, and they were kneeling on the bed, Bryce leaning fully back against Hunt, one of his hands resting between her legs, the other looped around her middle. He pressed kiss after kiss to the space between her neck and shoulder. “Bryce,” he murmured against her skin, his chest heaving into her spine. “Bryce.”

  She slid a hand over his, holding him between her legs, as if she could freeze this moment, stop the next sunrise from coming.

  He shuddered, kissing her again. “I can … Fuck, I can feel you. Like, in me.”

  She twisted enough to peer up at his stunned, devastated face.

  “It’s like that part of you that’s … Made, or whatever you called it,” he breathed. “It’s in me. Like this piece of you is nestled there.”

  “Good,” she said, kissing his jaw. Inside her, his lightning lingered, fueling her up like a small sun. “No matter what happens tomorrow,” she said, breathing hard, “I’ll have this piece of you with me. Strengthening me.” She could almost summon it, that lightning. It flowed under her skin, so full of possibility that she had no idea how she’d sleep.

  Hunt tugged her back against him, holding her tight as he brought them both down onto the creaky bed. “Sleep, Quinlan,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m with you no matter what.”

  86

  Ithan left Tharion recovering from the dose of the antidote the mer had taken. His reaction had been strong enough that the pipes in the House of Flame and Shadow had burst from the surge in his water magic. Hypaxia had her hands full, keeping her House in order.

  So Ithan had come to the Den. Which was now … his.

  Well, it would never be his, since it belonged to all the wolves who called it home, but it was his responsibility.

  He found Perry in the guard booth again, doodling in a notebook. He rapped on the glass, drawing her attention, and at her wide eyes, he gave her a half smile.

  “Hard at work or hardly working?” he teased.

  But she jumped to her feet, flinging open the door. “Sorry, I was just—”

  “Per, it’s me,” he said, alarmed.

  She straightened, standing at attention, as Sabine had liked. For fuck’s sake. He’d deal with that later. For now … He sniffed, trying to read the subtle change in her scent. It remained that strawberries-and-cinnamon blend he’d known his whole life, but with the antidote … He couldn’t put a finger on it. It had been so strong, right in those moments after she’d taken the antidote, yet now it had dimmed.

  There wasn’t time to ponder it, to wonder why an Omega once again stood before him. Ithan peered through the open gates of the Den. “Where is everyone?”

  Perry shifted on her feet. “They, uh … they left.”

  Ithan slowly blinked. “What do you mean they left?” Had the River Queen started her evacuation already? He’d come here to inform everyone that it might be best to lie low in the Blue Court for a few weeks, but maybe she had already gotten a message to them.

  “What happened shook them,” Perry said. “They’re loyal to you, Ithan, but they’re worried. They all headed out of town. Said they wanted to wait until after the new year to see how things, um … turned out.” In a few months.

  Ithan weighed the fear in her eyes. Not for him, but … “And where’s your sister?” he asked quietly. The wolf in him began bristling, snarling for the opponent he knew was coming.

  “Amelie led them out,” Perry said, throat bobbing. “I think she wanted to make sure everyone got to where they’re going.” But her eyes dropped to the pavement.

  “Sure,” Ithan said. Perry shifted on her feet. “Why didn’t you go?”

  “Someone had to stay to tell you,” she mumbled, a blush creeping over her cheeks.

  “I have a hard time believing your sister made you stay.”

  “She wanted me to go, but … I couldn’t abandon the Den. They moved the Prime into the lobby—I think some wanted to stay for the Sailing, but the spooked ones wanted to leave. It didn’t feel right to abandon his body there. Alone.” Tears gleamed in her emerald eyes, genuine grief for the old wolf.

  Any aggression rising in Ithan stalled out at the pain, the loyalty in her face. He squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks for staying, Per.”

  She followed him into the Den, hitting an interior button to shut the gates behind them. Ithan paused in the grassy meadow, watching the trees of the park bend in the cool breeze. The blood had been cleaned away from the building’s entrance. The bodies of Sabine and the Astronomer—

  “I dumped them in the sewer,” Perry said with quiet rage, reading Ithan’s glance toward where the corpses had been. “They don’t deserve a Sailing. Especially Sabine.”

  Surprise sparked in him at the normally peaceful wolf’s act of defiance, but he nodded. “Rotting in the shit of the city seems like a good place for Sabine to wind up,” he said, and Perry huffed a laugh. It wasn’t real amusement. They were both far beyond that.

  “Where did you go?” Perry asked, tentatively enough that he knew she was still feeling him out. As a friend, and as her Alpha and Prime. Learning how much she could push.

  “It’s a long story,” he said. “But I came back here to get everyone to safety.” He explained about the River Queen and the Blue Court.

  “But now,” he finished, “I have to head to the Eternal City.”

  Perry studied him, clearly understanding more than he’d said. “So we’re going up against the Asteri?”

  “We aren’t doing anything,” he said. “I’m going up against them.”

  “But you’re Prime,” she insisted. “You speak for all Valbaran wolves. Your choices are our choices. If you stand against the Asteri, we stand against the Asteri.”

  “Then disavow me,” he said. “But I’m going.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” she said. “I don’t disagree with you—things have to change, and change for the better. But the wolves are scattered at the moment. At vacation homes, on trips … too far to reach the Blue Court before you go off to the Eternal City.”

  “So?”

  “So get the word out to them before you go. Give them a few hours to find shelter, either by getting to the Blue Court, or by finding somewhere in the wilds to lie low. The second the Asteri see you, the Prime, standing against them in any capacity, they’ll go after the wolves to punish you. And after what happened at the Meadows …” Her eyes flooded with pain. “I don’t think there’s any atrocity they wouldn’t commit.”

  Ithan opened his mouth to object. He had to get that bullet and antidote to Bryce now. It might even be too late already.

  But he couldn’t live with one more wolf death on his conscience. And if a single pup were harmed because he hadn’t given them time to hide …

  “Three hours,” Ithan agreed. “You know how to send encrypted messages?”

  Perry nodded.

  “Then start getting the word out.” He looked to the building lobby beyond the pillars and the stairs up to it. “And I’ll start digging a grave.”

  “A grave?” Perry protested. “But the Sailing—”

  “There are no more Sailings,” Ithan said quietly. “The Under-King is dead.”

  He was met with stunned silence. Then Perry said, “But—the Bone Quarter.”

  “Is a lie. All of it.” Ithan gestured to the phone already in her hand. “Get the word out, then we’ll talk. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  Perry held his stare, her own full of worry and shock and determination. Then she began typing into her phone. “I’m glad, Ithan,” she said quietly, “that you’re Prime.”

  That makes one of us, he almost said, but just nodded his thanks.

  * * *

  Tharion shoved the last gun into a rucksack and turned to where Hypaxia was nesting vials of the antidote into a satchel. “How many do you have?” he asked.

  Water whispered in his ears, his heart, his veins. A steady flow of magic, as if a raging river coursed through him. Half a thought and it’d be unleashed.

  “Two dozen, give or take a few,” she said quietly. “Not enough.”

  “You’re going to need entire factories dedicated to getting it out there,” Tharion said.

  She handed him the bag. “Here. Don’t jostle it too much on the trip. Athalar’s lightning holds them together—a little agitation can destabilize the doses to the point where they won’t work.”

  He angled his head. “You’re not coming?” He planned to make his way to the Asteri’s palace itself—the most likely place for a confrontation between Bryce and the Asteri. Gods, the very notion of it was insane. Suicidal. But for his friends, for Midgard, he’d go, antidote in tow.

  Hypaxia’s eyes gleamed with that greenish light. “No—I’m staying here.”

  Tharion weighed the heaviness in that one word and took a seat on the edge of Roga’s desk. The sorceress was off handling some squabble between vampyrs and city medwitches over the vampyrs’ raid of a blood bank, apparently. “Why?”

  “Someone has to deal with all the broken pipes in this House,” Hypaxia teased.

  Tharion blushed slightly. His eruption after ingesting the antidote would take a long while to live down. But there had been so much power—all of a sudden, he’d been overflowing with water, and it was music and rage and destruction and life. But he said, “Come on, Pax. Tell me why.”

  Her gaze lowered to her hands. “Because if all goes poorly over there, someone needs to remain here. To help Lunathion.”

  “If it goes poorly over there, everyone is fucked anyway,” he said. “You being here, I’m sorry to say, won’t make much of a difference.”

  “I want to keep making the antidote,” she added. “We need a better way to stabilize it. I want to start on it now.”

  He looked at his friend—really looked at her. “You okay?”

  Her eyes, so changed since taking Flame and Shadow’s throne for herself, dipped to the floor. “No.”