“That’s ridiculous,” Archer scoffed. “Plenty of people with magical bonds get married.”
“Not the Unmade,” Alastor said quietly. “And certainly not those bound to both a child and…” He glanced at me, something calculating in his gaze. “Whatever that is.”
“Again. Rude.”
Before he could answer, the doors behind us crashed open. Archer and I spun in our seats to find Thorne standing in the doorway, looking absolutely murderous.
“Found us,” Archer muttered.
“Time to go,” I agreed.
Irri began to hum louder, a smile playing at her lips as she resumed her seemingly random dance around the room. The melody followed us as we stumbled toward the exit, past Thorne. But rather than fury, he simply flashed a subtle wink at me and slid his hand over the small of my back as we walked out. He knew where we were, of course. This man wasn’t letting me casually stroll the streets knowing his brother was hunting me. But he was giving me space. Until he wasn’t, apparently.
“He sounds like thunderstorms,” Irri yelled behind us. “All lightning and promise. But you already knew that, didn’t you, little Huntress? With all of your destruction?”
I froze, looking back at her. For a moment, her eyes were clear, knowing, before clouding over again as she returned to her humming.
“This has been delightful,” Alastor called after us. “Please don’t come again. Especially not in this state.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Al,” I called back, grabbing Archer’s arm as we made our hasty exit.
The last thing I heard as Thorne led us out was Irri’s lilting voice, “The arrow and the hawk may not wed, but oh, how beautifully they fly together…”
As expected, by the time we got back to the Syndicate house, Thorne’s overly protective alpha male attitude was gone. He’d trusted me with Archer, sure, but he was never far enough away to truly worry. He’d simply kissed me harder in bed that night. And I’d let him.
45
Thorne
Iwoke in the castle before dawn, my hands immediately drawn to Paesha’s warm, naked body beside me. The sheet had slipped down, exposing the curve of her hip and the smooth expanse of her back covered in black swirling marks. Fuck.
Every morning was the same godsdamn dilemma no matter where we slept that night. Stay and risk Quill finding us or start the day. Reluctantly, I extracted myself from the warmth of her body, watching as she shifted in her sleep, completely oblivious to my internal struggle. I dressed in the gray light, trying not to stare at her. She’d thrown one leg over where I’d been lying, her hair a wild mess across my pillow. But that fucking arch in the small of her back called me back to her. It took every ounce of strength to walk out.
Standing in the empty hall, I did the same thing as every morning. Drew on my power just to make sure it was still there. Still buzzing. Because the loss of it was getting worse. The cost of a simple spark near draining and the erratic pull unnerved me. A tiny orb illuminated my palm today. Only enough to remind me there was still time to save everything. But the clock was ticking.
The kitchens were already bustling when I got there. The head cook, Marta, a shrewd old bat who’d caught Paesha sneaking out of my room once, and had been milking it ever since, greeted me with a knowing smirk. They all knew us as married. But Quill didn’t. So no matter what we did, it was suspicious to someone.
“Got your breakfast, m’lord,” she said, heavy on the sarcasm. Everyone in the castle knew me only as Lord Noctus, owner of the gambling Parlor. I preferred to keep it that way. “That fancy tea for your wife too.”
“Yes. The bitter water she pretends to like.”
Marta snorted. “Women and their little lies. My husband thought I enjoyed his singing for thirty years.”
I grunted in response and slipped her the extra coin she’d come to expect. The castle was still quiet as I made my way back upstairs, tray in hand, mind already running through the day’s necessities.
Paesha had completely taken over the bed. She’d somehow managed to sprawl diagonally across the mattress, face buried in my pillow. I set down the tray and took a moment to appreciate the view before pressing my lips to her temple.
“Rise and shine, Wife,” I said, not bothering to keep the amusement from my voice.
One eye cracked open, immediately narrowing when she saw me. “Fuck off,” she mumbled, burying her face deeper into the pillow.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine. I brought food.”
“I don’t want food. I want sleep.” She attempted to yank the blanket up, but I snatched it and kept my grip firm.
“Tough. We’ve got things to do.” I gestured to the tray. “Bread. Honey. That horrible tea you insist on drinking.”
She sat up finally, not bothering with the sheet. My mouth went dry as her breasts came into view. She caught me staring and smirked. “See something you like, Husband?”
