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“Your trust means everything,” the words emerge rough with emotion. “For permitting me to touch you in such an intimate manner.”

She reaches for my hand, threading our fingers together. The simple contact sends aftershocks through my system.

“Tell me something real,” she whispers. “Something just for me.”

“I have never lost control in such a manner,” I admit. “In centuries of existence, I have never wanted anyone with the intensity that I want you. It terrifies me.”

“Good terrifying or bad terrifying?” She breathes.

“The kind that makes me want to burn down everything I have ever known if it means keeping you safe.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. “I’ve never felt anything like what just happened,” she whispers. “Didn’t know my body could do that.”

The confession sends heat spiraling through me all over again.

“That was merely the beginning,” I murmur, bringing her hand to my lips. “When we have proper time, when we can approach this correctly... I intend to worship every inch of you.”

She shivers, and through our connection, I feel her body responding to the promise.

“Is that what you want?” I ask softly. “When you’re ready?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “God, yes.”

We lie there in charged silence, hands linked, sharing heat and breath and the promise of everything we’re building toward.

When sleep finally takes her, she’s curled against my side, her hand resting over my heart. I remain awake, memorizing the feel of her trust, the way she fits perfectly against me.

Whatever comes next, whatever my court demands, I’ll find a way to protect this.

To protect her.

Even if it means choosing her over everything I’ve ever known.

21

ASH

It’s past midnight,I’m alone, and exactly where I shouldn’t be.

Perfect.

My satphone vibrates against my ribs in the specific pattern I’ve memorized—three short, two long, pause, repeat. Graves’ signature. The screen illuminates my face in corpse-blue light: “7 MISSED CALLS—URGENT.”

My hands shake as I check over my shoulder before typing my response: INTELLIGENCE GATHERING PROGRESSING. ACADEMY SECURITY COMPLEX. RECOMMEND EXTENDED TIMELINE.

The reply arrives before I finish exhaling: UNACCEPTABLE. ASSET RETRIEVAL SCHEDULED IN 72 HOURS UNLESS INTELLIGENCE OBTAINED. AGENT DAVIS STANDING BY FOR REINFORCEMENT.

Five days. The countdown just became a death sentence.

Air shimmers like heat waves where Academy protection ends—magical static that makes my enhanced senses recoil. Technology dies at these exact coordinates, phone screen flickering before cutting to black as I step back onto protected ground.

Movement in the grove beyond. Liquid shadow flowing through moonlight with predatory grace that makes my lungs forget how to function.

A branch snaps behind me with the deliberate crack of someone who wants to be heard.

“Well, well.” Kieran’s voice cuts through darkness like silk-wrapped steel. “The troublesome little spy finally shows her true colors.”

Heat floods my cheeks—not embarrassment but the automatic response to being caught in operational security breach. I hold my ground, feet positioned for movement in any direction, weight balanced on the balls of my feet.