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Ryneth smirked. “I can’t blame him. I bet it’s a nice ass to lick.”

Daven turned so fast Ryneth almost did laugh this time. “What did you say?”

Ryneth giggled when Daven threw himself back onto the bed, pinning his arms and legs with sheer muscle and air. “I guess I’ll have to teach you obedience.”

“Maybe you should.” He laughed. His gaze shifted past Daven’s shoulder to the painting of Helion that hung on the wall.

He froze.

There, in white letters, painted bright over the immense glass building that was portrayed on the canvas, stood those words he’d seen on his chip.

Nereth solan.

“Daven—”

“Oh no, you are not escaping me.” Daven nuzzled Ryneth’s neck, lips grazing the mark he’d left. “Stay still and let me punish you.”

“No. Look.” Ryneth pulled one hand free. “Please.” He pointed toward the wall. “Those words. What do they mean?”

Daven lifted his head. He frowned, eyes narrowing. Then he followed Ryneth’s finger. “What? Where?”

“There. On the painting.”

Daven sat up. His skin gleamed in the light. He leaned toward the wall, gaze scanning the area. “Baby—” His expression had shifted to suspicion when he turned back to Ryneth. “There is nothing there. It’s just the building.”

“It’s right there.” Ryneth surged up, ignoring the ache in his hips and the friction of their heat as he scrambled toward the painting.

Nothing. The building was glass once again.

“There’s nothing there, aethera. What did you say you think you saw?”

“Nereth solan. I also saw it on the chip.”

The chip.

Ryneth bolted to the living room, scanning the place until he found it on the table. He snatched it up and held it close, turning it over in his hands.

“It was there before,” he said, voice shaking. “When you gave this back to me, it was there.”

He searched for the carving again. For the same bright letters he’d seen before.

The surface was blank.

“And now it’s gone,” Ryneth breathed, fingers trembling.

Daven crossed the room.

“There were words, Daven,” Ryneth said, his voice cracking. “I saw them. On the chip. In the room.”

“Let me see.” He took the chip from Ryneth’s hand. He turned it once, then frowned. “There’s nothing here.” His gaze lifted. “What exactly did you see?”

“Nereth solan. Whatever that means.”

Daven went still for a beat, his brow furrowing. “Nereth solan…” He said it slowly, as if testing the shape of it.

Ryneth froze. “You know it?”

“I know the phrase.” Daven’s expression tightened, just briefly. “Old Helion. You’ll never be alone.” His gaze flicked once to the chip before he looked back at Ryneth. “It’s tied to some old philosophical movement, or one man who quoted it too much. I’ll ask later. Right now, get dressed.”