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Her throat worked with a swallow. “Is it a good idea to get close to me now? What happens if one of the saints comes in and hurts me?”

“I kill them,” Bryon snarled, upper lip curled, sharp teeth exposed, a growl surging from deep in his chest to fill the bathroom.

Maia rolled her eyes but reached up and patted his shoulder. “Sure, buddy. We’re in a prison literally controlled by the saints. What’s your grand, infallible plan for killing one of them?”

The smile that filled Bryon’s face was every bit as sharp as the snarl had been. “Oh trust me, princess, I’ll find a way.”

“Delusional,” Maia sighed, drawing her hand away from him. He caught it mid-air and replaced it on his body, holding her gaze when she stared at him in surprise.

“I told you. I’m not pushing you away anymore. You’re my mate. I claim you. You’remine.”

Maia dropped her head, hiding her expression, but Bryon glimpsed a split second of devastation and it struck his chest like a knife. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she murmured, her voice raw.

“I don’t intend to break a single promise to you.”

She scoffed. “We’re locked up, you denial-riddled madman. There’s no happy ending to this. We’re not going to settle down in a little cottage somewhere no one can bother us. Either one orboth of us is going to be killed by these psychopaths. And you—I think you’ve lost enough, don’t you?”

Rejection snuck its way into the vulnerable, squishy part of his chest like a stiletto knife but he bore down on it, breathed through it.Fuck that.“Don’t be a stubborn, stupid bastard like me, Maia. It’s not your style. This bond isn’t going anywhere and we both know that. I wouldn’t want rid of it even if that were possible.”

She peeked at him through wet strands of hair. “You’re a glutton for punishment.”

“I’m a glutton, that’s for sure. You gonna give me more kisses, princess?”

She rolled her eyes, her mouth pressing thin. “What makes you think you’ve earned more?”

“Does a mate have to earn kisses from his girl?”

The look she shot him was fiery and made his blood spark. He just grinned.

“Annoying bastard,” she muttered, snatching a cloth draped over the side of the stone tub and dousing it in the opalescent liquid he’d used to wash her hair.

“Is that a step up from grumpy bastard? Also, I don’t think that’s for washing your skin.”

“I’m covered in sweat, dirt, and cum, Bryon. I don’t care if this is for stripping paint off a ship, I’m using it.”

He snorted. “Need any help getting those hard to reach areas?”

Her expression this time was a glare. “Keep your hands to yourself, old man.”

“Not even here?” he asked, gliding his hands up her back, skimming the delicate edge of her wings and pressing his thumbs into the knots of tension in her shoulders. She melted with a groan so loud it echoed, going so limp she almost slipped down in the water.

“Fucker,” she spat. “Stop touching me.”

“Not a damn chance.”

“Why?” The question was small and hurt.

He kissed the spot where her wings met her back, the sight of them healthy and free of poisoning worth the people he’d killed, worth giving the sacred circle over to the saints. “I chose you, Maia. You’re mine. Not a thing in this world can change that you’re mine. Neither can anything in any other world.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, silence filling the room thick enough to choke him. And then she said, “Lower.”

Bryon grinned, dragging his thumbs to a lower spot on her back and gratified by her deep groan. “Does this mean you choose me, too?”

“I chose you the moment you kissed me. I was just annoyed about it.”

His snort ruffled the damp hairs at the back of her neck. “Glad we’re on the same page.” He kissed her shoulder and stood, her loud noise of complaint going right to his ego. And his dick.

“Hey, what the fuck?” she muttered, scowling at him. Adorable.