Page 13 of Godless Saints

A normal man would’ve seen a threat. I’d rather be bitten than ignored.

Moon stayed locked behind optics and that soul-crushing legacy bullshit. Made me want to burn the whole cage down with us inside it. Fine. If he won’t leave the cage, I’ll climb in, lock the door, and melt the fucking key. Just him and me.

I’d never felt this kind of thrill before. Not with anyone. Felt like the second before a fight, every instinct screaming something stupid was coming. Only sharper. A fight I had no intention of losing.

I should call Lorcan. He always had useful advice. I hit his number. It rang once. Twice.

“Baby brother.”

“What would make you say yes to going out with someone?”

Lorcan snorted. “Keira. It’s for you.”

Keira came on the line.

“Cil, how’s Evermourne treating you?”

“Good. Important question. What’s the one thing you’d want from a guy that you couldn’t turn him down for?”

Keira laughed, surprised. “You’re serious? You’ve never asked for dating advice.”

“He’s pretentious. Always going on about optics and legacy bullshit. But fuck… makes me want to mess him up.”

“Flowers. Match his colors. Make it thoughtful.” Lorcan growled nonsense in the background. She shut him down fast. “Don’t listen to him. Bring him home when it’s serious. We take care of our own.”

“Yeah. Just need to convince him those optics don’t matter.”

“Send flowers to the dorm. Start there. Text me how it goes.”

I hung up.

Flowers.

Right.

Time to start unlocking that cage. I stretched my boots toward the fire, thumb still throbbing. Let the memory of Moon’s teeth play on loop.

Again. And again.

Phone out. Flower delivery.

Misha kicked my boot. Whiskey sloshed.

Fucker.

“You still thinking about the prince?” Misha dropped into the armchair, legs already bouncing. Leather creaked beneath him.

I turned the glass once, firelight bleeding through the whiskey.

“No.”

Misha snorted. “You’re smiling into your fucking whiskey.”

“Leave me alone. I’m busy.”

“Busy chasing the prince out of the initiation like you couldn’t decide between fucking him or breaking him.”

“Depends who you ask.”