He finally turns, and there’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Not even when we fought side by side in the Old Wars. Not even when he came home blood-soaked from the Gates of Krados.
It’s not just rage. It’s heartbreak.
“It’s not gone,” Cassiel says softly from the shadows.
He’s sitting on the edge of the long black bench near the wall, still wrapped in that damn robe like he hasn’t slept in a week. The deep folds of it hang open at the chest, his collarbone sharp in the candlelight. He looks like something out of a painting—divine and ruined all at once.
“It’s dulled. Dimmed. That’s all,” he says. “Zepharion can’t sever a bond like yours unless you’re there in person. And even then… he’d have to kill you to make it stick.”
Deimos bristles. “Then why can’t I feel her?”
Cassiel shrugs like it costs him something. “Because he’s trying to break it. And you’re too far to fight it.”
I cross my arms, suddenly cold. “Then why canyoufeel her? Why canshestill reachyou?”
His eyes lift to mine. Steady. Knowing. “Because my bond is more internal. Made from angel fire. It’s… different. Holier. Older. Maybe even invisible to Zepharion.” He pauses, like thewords leave a burn in his throat. “I don’t think he even knows about it.”
Deimos steps forward, voice low and deadly. “Then what do you suggest?”
Cassiel stands. His wings flex slightly behind him. His power hums like static in the air, making the torches flicker. For a moment, he looks like a god. Like something made to command galaxies.
“We bond to each other,” he says.
Silence.
I blink. “What?”
“To each other,” he repeats. “Like you and I bonded with Lillien. Not out of fate. Out of choice.”
“You want us to what?” I ask, a dry laugh curling out of my throat. “Swear blood oaths over a fire? Make friendship bracelets?”
Cassiel’s mouth quirks as he steps closer. “We bond through primal magic. Sex. Blood. Shared intention. The same way she bonded with each of us. If we bind ourselves to each other—Deimos first, since his bond is the deepest—we’ll be stronger. Tied together. Anchored by more than just her.”
Deimos lets out a slow exhale, like he's processing it in pieces. “You think it’ll work?”
“Iknowit will,” Cassiel says. “Her bond to you was mate-born. Fate-forged. If we bind ourselves to that, to each other, we might be able topull her back. Or at least give her something real to hold onto. A tether. A lifeline. One strong enough to burn through anything Zepharion throws at her.”
I glance between them. My heart’s thudding again—but not from the nightmare. Fromthis. From the idea of touching them. Marking them. Becoming more than just three broken things in a room full of echoes. I think of Lillien. Of the way her powersang against my skin the first time she let me in. The way my name sounded in her mouth when she came.
And then I think of her now—alone. Starving. Fading.
I chuckle, half-shocked. “So we fuck?”
Deimos’s mouth curves in that sharp way of his. The one that usually means someone’s about to bleed. “We fuck,” he confirms.
Cassiel smirks. “With purpose. With blood. With magic.”
I laugh again, but it’s rougher now. Lower. “Well. I guess this is what they callteam bonding.”
SIXTY-NINE
Cassiel moves toward me like a man possessed.
No—worse. Like a man who knows exactly what he’s offering… and exactly what it’s going to cost.
His eyes never leave mine as he reaches for the first clasp of his robes. He undoes it slowly, deliberately. Not with seduction. With purpose. Like he’s stripping down for execution—or a sacrament. Like he’s undressing for a war he knows he will lose, and lose willingly.
One layer at a time.
