Page 329
“Weeping…” Her nails dug into his arm. “It worked. You did it.”
“We did it. It’s over.”
Luna’s eyes met his again, dancing between them. “Oh my stars, Brand…” she breathed, cupping his cheek. “There you are.”
No way, in all the realms, could Brand have stopped himself from kissing her.
“Are you ready?”
Brand tucked a hank of Luna’s hair away as he asked the question. They stood toe-to-toe at the former Ghostbor, Solyrian beaming down. Under the harsh morning light, the crumbling seam of the chasm looked even worse than before, but no matter. They were there to repair at least some of the damage he’d wrought.
“It’s risky, experimenting where everyone can see, but”—Luna’s fingers flitted over the mud caked on her chest, and she glanced towards the others where they encircled Okthana’s cage—“this is more important than whether or not I’m discovered.”
“You won’t be discovered. Even if your power isn’t quite the same and this doesn’t work, no one will ever know the reason why.” The tiniest jerk of his chin pressed the earthen particles more firmly over Illamiata’s empty space. “See? I’ve got you, little moon. But I don’t think there’s any need for worry. Isn’t this what we were meant for?”
“I’d like to believe we were meant for more,” she breathed. “I want more. There’s been too much suffering in our time together.”
He had similar thoughts during his time at her cottage in the midnight wilds.
“Let us finish our task, then, and finally have a moment of peace.”
“Yes.” Luna threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “Let’s.”
“All the way, this time. Don’t you dare hold back.”
Amusement came bubbling down the bond along with her nerves. “Cheeky, using my own words against me, Demon,” she teased. “Especially when the circumstances aren’t nearly as fun.”
“Are you stalling, Blessed Keeper?”
“I would never.”
“Hmm. Prove it.”
A prismatic glow gathered on her fingertips and she pushed a breath through pursed lips. “Think I’ll have horns?”
“Time to find out.”
Brand called on the Greater and went seamlessly through the change, magic licking between them as she took some of that power for herself. They’d done it before, to an extent, but it was a mere glimpse of what she was capable of. What they were capable of, together.
It was only a few days ago, when he was buried so deep inside her that he didn’t know his own name, where he ended and she began, that Luna grew with him in the rage. Just a bit. Just enough to shock him to his core and plant the seed of an idea that was finally coming to fruition.
Somehow, Lunara the Moonweaver—his reckless, stubborn Sorcerit—had the power to be Demon.
And he needed her help.
Like Brand always knew they would, Solyrian’s rays bent at her command, swirling in a glittering vortex around her. Luna’s lips peeled back into a sneer, her fangs dropping. And, burning their way to the surface of her beautiful scars, were her mating marks. Her own whorls of power.
“That’s it, little moon,” he rumbled down at her, feeding her some of his fury as red seeped across his vision. “Rise. Join me.”
When she growled in answer, the fierce sound trembled along his heartstrings.
And then, she raged.
Luna swelled, her nails turning to claws, her limbs lengthening. Up and up she went, eyes like molten starlight as the sunstar’s power claimed her. Weeping Sisters, the sheer force of her. And yet…
“Still so small. So soft,” he whispered, trailing the backs of his fingers down her cheek as she settled. “And you could level the world with a thought. Oh, yes. They will indeed sing songs in your name.”
He’d said the same what felt like a lifetime ago—half truth, half his own besotted awe. Now, he knew it for the certainty it was. Lunara the Moonweaver would go down in history, a legend for all Bordoroth to recite with reverence.
