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Blood is caked to his face and clothes, a stark contrast to the shadows that swirl and writhe around him, restless, as though feeding off the fury that pulses from his very core.

With surprising gentleness, he lifts me to my feet, steadying me as though he were afraid I might break. His gaze sweeps over me, his eyes dark and intense, as he assesses every inch of me for damage.

I open my mouth, trying to form the words, but before I can speak, he steps closer, filling my vision with his presence. His warmth is overwhelming, sending a wave of chills through my body. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing the side of my neck, his thumb grazing my chin as his other hand slides down to grasp my hip, pulling me closer to him. The tension in the air is thick, charged with something primal, something dangerous.

His lips find mine, too fast for me to resist. My eyes flare open, and for a moment, I freeze. Then they shut again, and I lean into him, surrendering to the heat that floods me. The kiss is deep, hard, wild, and untamed. It is everything I have been holding back, every ounce of emotion that has built up over the months. It surges between us in that single, desperate contact. My lips part, allowing him to claim more, and he doesn’t hesitate. His tongue slides between my parted lips with a precision that leaves no room for anything but him.

Our teeth clash, urgent and desperate, as though we both need this more than air, starving for this moment that has been building for so long. The world beyond us ceases to exist. There is nothing else, nothing but the rhythm of our bodies, the frantic pulse of desire. I want more, need more. I want him.

His hands move, grasping me by the thighs and hoisting me up, bringing me flush against him. The closeness feels maddening, like it isn’t enough, like it can’t ever be enough.

My hands find his hair, damp with sweat and blood, fingers threading through it as I pull him closer, deepening the kiss, urging him to take me further.

He lets out a low growl, a sound that echoes deep in my chest, and I can’t help but melt into it. It is everything I have imagined, everything I have been aching for. But now that I have it, I crave more. Always more.

He tears himself away from me and sets me back on my feet.

“Are you hurt?” his voice rough and edged with concern

My mind is still reeling from the intensity of the moment, a haze of emotion clouding my thoughts. I can’t form any words, so I simply shake my head in response.

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” he growls, his tone low, eager, and filled with a fierce urgency.

Before I register what’s happening, he leans down and scoops me into his arms, cradling me close to his chest.

My fists curl into the fabric of his shirt, tucking my body closer into his, wincing slightly at the sight that greets us, blood smeared on every surface, bodies littering the floor, all signs of the carnage he unleashed. The weight of it presses against my chest, but I can’t look away. “Did you . . .?” I try, but the words get stuck in my throat again. The question feels too big, too complicated to ask, and I can’t find the strength to push it out.

His pace slows as he glances down at me, his eyes burning with intensity, but there is something else there, something raw, a flicker of fear that catches me off guard.

It isn’t the fear of the battle outside, or the dangers we just escaped, but the fear of what I might see when I look at him. He isn’t afraid of the blood on his hands or the lives he has taken. It is me. The thought of me seeing him as something more monstrous than the savior I’ve come to know.

His gaze searches mine, desperate for the right words to explain, terrified that the truth will make me recoil from him. That, in one look, I will see all the darkness he carries and the terrible things he has done to protect those he loves. “They deserved it,” he says simply, his expression grim but resolute.

“Good,” I whisper, the word escaping me with a quiet breath. “Take me home.” His face softens as his grip tightens.

Home. It didn’t mean anything to me for so long, but it is him. Not a place, not really. Just him. And wherever Oberon is, that is where I want to be.

He is my home.

He smiles at me, and for a fleeting moment, I see that his feelings mirror mine. Without another word, he carries me out of the darkness and into the light.

When we step outside, Zander and Ash stand amidst the wreckage, their clothes stained with blood, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and quiet satisfaction. Oberon’s glare falls upon them, sharp and heavy, and I can’t imagine anyone wanting that kind of fury directed at them.

Ash opens a vortex without a word and brings us back to the stronghold.

Oberon doesn’t speak to either of the males, finally setting me on my feet once we are back in the safety of the stronghold.

“I’m glad you’re okay. You had us half worried to death when we woke up, and you weren’t there.” Ash’s face drops as he offers me a sad smile.

“I’m okay,” my voice soft, returning his smile.

Zander places a gentle hand on my shoulder, a silent, reassuring gesture. He doesn’t need to say anything, I understand. He told me before how much it hurt him when he couldn’t protect the people he cared about. How much he loathes feeling helpless. When they found my room empty, the struggle evident in the disarray, I imagine that pain crept back into him. And I know, without a doubt, that he is both relieved that I am unharmed and furious that he didn’t protect me.

I brush my hand lightly over his arm, offering the same reassuring smile I’d given Ash, before I turn to follow Oberon. He is quieter now, more broody than usual, his presence heavy with unspoken thoughts.

He leads me to his room and, with a tenderness I didn't expect, draws me a bath. The warmth of the water soothes my aching body, but more than that, it feels like a brief escape from everything that has happened. As I soak, I can feel the weight of the day beginning to fade, but the moment I step out of the bath, a quiet tension creeps in. My hair is damp, and my nightgown clings to my skin, but it is his presence that makes my pulse quicken.

He stands just outside the door, hesitant, like he is afraid to overstep but unwilling to let me out of his sight. I can feel his uncertainty even through the distance.