He grabs the massive, horned rebel by the collar, yanks him down, and kisses him. Hard.
I blink. “Uhh.”
Kael stills beside me, completely silent while the kiss lasts forever. Or maybe a few seconds. It’s hot. Intense. Messy. Then the human rears back—and punches Varek square in the nose.
Crunch.
“Ow.” I wince.
Varek’s head snaps back, blood trickling down his face, but he doesn’t move to retaliate. Doesn’t even flinch.
“What the actual fuck?” I whisper to Kael. “Is this foreplay or interdimensional retribution?”
The moment we’re inside, Kael doesn’t relax. Nor does he answer me. His palm stays firmly on the hilt of his sword, his posture rigid as his eyes scan the cramped interior.
I, on the other hand, am busy processing approximately fifty things at once. Like the building—half stone, half whatever that is—and the man who just delivered the most feral welcome I’ve ever witnessed. Not to mention the two other Glowranth now standing awkwardly to the side like they’re deciding whether to bolt or throw hands.
We’re ushered in with all the subtlety of a bar fight. Kael stays between me and the others, a wall of gleaming metal and protective vibes. His glowing markings pulse faintly, which does nothing for my heart rate.
The man—Varek’s mystery kisser/puncher—launches into a furious tirade in thick Glowranthian, his voice sharp and musical, like he’s singing insults at a very aggressive tempo. Every now and then, English words filter through: “betrayal,” “idiot,” “what the fuck, Varek.”
I blink. My lips twitch.
The two other Glowranth watch with wide eyes. One of them steps forwards as if to intervene, then hesitates when he catches sight of Kael. His eyes widen further. He whispers something to the other, and I swear I catch “royal guard.”
Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Things go from awkward to nearly combustible. Kael’s markings blaze like warning lights, his entire being locked and loaded. The mystery man finally tears his attention away fromVarek to snap something at Kael. It’s half growl, half snarl, and a hundred percent threatening.
“Okay!” I announce, stepping forwards and raising my hands like a referee between rabid wolves. “Everyone, take a breath. Or ten. Preferably before someone else gets kissed. Or punched. Or both.”
The Glowranth blink at me. Kael blinks at me. Even Varek blinks like he’s only just remembered I exist. And the bloke, he studies me hard, assessing, but some of the initial fury bleeds from his expression.
“Seriously,” I add. “Whatever I just walked into, we can sort it out after we figure out how not to let your prince die and maybe, maybe save a few hundred lives in the process.”
The silence is thick.
Then the puncher—who I’m now mentally calling “Kisspocalypse”—lets out a string of vicious-sounding Glowranthian. It’s definitely not polite.
Varek drags a hand down his face and mutters, “This is going well.”
Understatement of the year.
Kael shifts closer to me, his energy brushing mine in a silent pulse of reassurance. I have no idea what’s happening. But judging by the look on Varek’s face, he’s perhaps reconsidering his plan to come here to claim a favour.
I clear my throat. “Can we do this in English?” I ask. “I mean, yeah, I suck. I’m privileged. I’m the worst. But I’d love to actually know what the hell is going on.”
Kael’s voice slides into my mind, smooth and calm.“The human—his name is Pax—is furious. Varek promised never to come back here.”
“Like, promised how?”I murmur in my mind.“Are we talking a ‘my word is my bond’ kind of promise, or a ‘magical vow with actual painful consequences’ thing?”
He hesitates.“We’d know if it was a binding vow. He’s still alive.”
“Oh. Yay.”
Meanwhile, Pax is still pacing, dark eyes blazing. His skin is rich brown, warm toned, marked with intricate tattoos that twist around one bicep and peek up past the collar of his shirt. There’s a scar running from the corner of his left eye to his temple. Thick muscles flex as he moves, and yeah, he’s got a bit of a dad bod thing going on, which shouldn’t be hot?—
Kael growls softly beside me.
