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She needn’t have bothered. Brand did well enough on his own.

“From my limited experience, sleeping with the infirm is not usually part of a healer’s work.”

Hedda’s brow furrowed the slightest bit. Fern couldn’t quite make out what Lunara said next, her low lilt too soft, but it didn’t matter—Brand’s gravelly response was disgusting regardless.

“Mmm. Please do.”

They both jolted, the lewd, slithering timbre of his voice like a horde of insects crawling over the stone.

Fern remembered the sound of him from her time in the Veil. His kindness. Gentleness. A sweeter creature had maybe never lived, based only on the way he spoke to Lunara while she saved Fern’s life.

She was the least familiar with the Demon Son, and even she knew that was not fucking Brand.

Fern took to the air, silently gesturing for Hedda to flank the near side of the doorway. The commander didn’t hesitate, though there was a resignation in the set of her jaw that made Fern’s chest ache.

Blimmin’ inconvenient, to feel her friends’ hurts on top of everything else.

She flew to the opposite side of the massive balcony, trying to get a better look inside. No sense busting in there to wreak havoc without knowing what they were really getting into. And there was a small part of Fern that hoped Lunara might be able to control the situation herself. To take back some of whatever she’d lost during her first encounter with Brand in the chasm.

“Come out, come out…”

Hedda’s wide eyes met her own across the distance just as a quake rocked the tower. A ripple of Lunara’s magic followed, hitting like a violent wave. Then came the screams.

They barreled into the bedroom, weapons raised. Both Brand and Lunara were bellowing to the rafters, locked together on the bed in a maelstrom of light and dark, wind and ruin. Lunara’s fangs dropped, lips twisting into a murderous snarl. Brand shuddered, head tilting down, and almost…drank her in.

There was no other way to describe it. Lunara was pumping out so much of her power, but he was absorbing it, utterly content amidst the chaos of her whipping locks and battering iridescence. He leaned closer and reached for the sheet Lunara was clutching to her chest, the movement animalistic. Curious. She growled at him, equally otherworldly.

“I know you,” Brand murmured, though he sounded anything but certain.

Alarm bells pealed in Fern’s mind, but she was too slow. Hedda was too slow.

Brand swung on a roar, the back of his hand connecting with Lunara’s jaw. He pounced as she hit the mattress, banded his fist around her throat, and brought them nose-to-nose.

“Why? Who are you? What are⁠—”

Fern’s mace hit Brand’s temple with a crack of thunder just as Magnus burst through the door, Lyriat and Faldir right behind him. Everyone lunged for the bed. For Brand’s limp body and Lunara gasping beneath him.

“No!” Magnus and Pet shouted at the same time, the wolf echoing through Fern’s mind.

“Don’t touch him!” Lunara shrieked. “Stay back.”

They all froze as her arms wrapped around the Demon with a small sob. The interminable silence after, the shaking of their bodies as Lunara clung to her mate and lost it, cracked Fern’s heart in two.

For a split second, they disappeared into the mist, materializing again in opposite positions. Lunara laid healing hands to his head, fixing the damage Fern caused. She really needed to find a new way to bring him down, lest she end up doing permanent damage when there wasn’t a Sorcerit around to fix him.

She could feel the burning questions on the tips of everyone’s tongue, but no one dared speak. Not while Lunara was bent over him, her agony evident as she hissed and bowed, taking his pain as her own.

At last, Lunara slumped to one side, swaying. She swallowed and looked up at Fern, her lip trembling. “I think I’m ready. Only you.” And then she collapsed onto Brand’s chest and started weeping all over again.

Thank the fucking Sisters. It was all a pile of stinking dragonshite, but at least she was finally going to accept a blood gift and feed.

Fern climbed onto the mattress behind Lunara, her touch landing gently on her friend’s back, rubbing in what she hoped was soothing circles. “Someone bring me a blade and vessel.”

“Lunara is your mate, Brand.”

His mum’s fingers whispered over the back of his hand, trying to soothe him, but all Brand wanted to do was wrench away from the suffocating hold.

Mate.