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He won’t let the factions of Fanatics splinter off.

When you kill a God, you become a God. He will be crowned their king. They will bow to him.

I’m standing in front of him without realizing I walked to him, my body moving without thought. I rake my nails down against his chest, wanting to hurt him, wanting to free myself of him, the utter powerlessness of the situation flooding my mind.

He lets my nails dig into his perfect ivory skin, the crimson of fresh blood making me sick. He doesn’t try to stop me.

Then Doman reaches down, taking my chin in his hand, firm, forcing me to meet his ice-blue eyes. “The prophecies, Adriana. It isn’t coincidence. Bruton saw them. Aeris knows. There’s something in the Rift. It’s coming for us, and I will unite my species to face it, before the universe is lost.”

His touch is poison.

I pull away from him, rushing out of the cockpit, almost at a run, down the hallway. I slam my hand against one of the buttons to open the door and enter a bedroom at random. The spartan, clean white walls mock me. The huge bed is made for an alien, and I am a stranger here.

The door hisses shut behind me, but I don’t collapse on the bed. I’m filled with hurt and rage. I slam my palm against the wall, the stinging pain centering me.

How long did they plan to use Fay as leverage to force Obsidian into a duel?

Did I even feel the three of them in that vision that set this all in motion, or did they know how to manipulate their auras, to hide their true cunning?

The laughter, the tears we shared, falling asleep in their arms, feeling so safe when the three of them knew they were saving Fay not because it was the right to do, but because it was the only way to be certain the War-God would accept their challenge and pause his assault to face them in combat.

Three conniving bastards, three liars who tricked me every second they were with me.

The tears fill my eyes, because I’ve lost him once before. When Doman leapt over the magma flow, and I thought he was gone, burnt to ashes, it destroyed me.

And if he faces Obsidian, I will lose him again.

Nothing can stand against that beast. Not even my triad.

Not unless…

I hate him more than I ever have. I hate the three of them more than when I first felt them, when I was overwhelmed by their arrogance, their power, their terriblewillto conquer all that stands before them.

And yet, the thought of life without them is as empty as the dead space that surrounds our ship.

The wedding dress is a cruel joke. I smooth it, the delicate beauty of it, designed by the person in this world who loves me the most.

My chin up, I exit the bedroom. I stride back to the cockpit, towards the low voices of my triad. They’re surprised when I return, the three of them turning to face me. Gallien, with hiscold, intellectual curiosity, looking at me like I’m a new species to be catalogued. Titus, angry, even when he is the one who betrayed me. I called him a liar, him and his triad, and his pride is wounded.

Doman, only Doman is empty and blank, not a flicker of recognition on his face as he watches me impassively.

Detached and aloof, but not for much longer.

I stride to him, and before he can process what I’m doing, I’ve ripped the ring off his finger.

His nostrils flare, instantly, breathing in my hatred, tasting my scent unfiltered by that corrupt contraption that blocked us from each other.

“What are you doing?” His voice has that low growl to it that makes frissons rush down my back. He breathes in again, tasting me once more, nostrils flaring, and his eyes seem to pulse with energy.

“You told me the Bond would you make you stronger. If you want a chance against that monster, you know what you have to do.”

Doman reaches for the ring. I grip it, tight in my hand, putting it behind my back. If he wants to get it, he’ll have to wrest it from me. He’ll have to touch me, without that ring blunting his agonizing hunger.

“Not like this,” he snarls, clenching his hand into a fist. He closes his eyes tight, trying to stop himself from breathing in, but his nostrils flare once more, unable to resist tasting my scent.

I know what I’m doing to him. The Mating Rage is swelling up in him, and though my scent is marred by hatred, I know he can taste the way my body is always begging for him, this instinctual, primal need to be taken by the alpha. He is a king, an emperor, a God among men, and no matter how my ire taints my desire, I’m done pretending I don’t crave him.

I laugh, cold. “Do you know how many times I imagined this, Doman? Even when I hated you. Especially when I hated you. The three of you tormented me. I’d have dreams of you… I’d lie in bed, tossing and turning, sweating, imagining you breaking down my door. I imagine the three of you pinning me down while I screamed for you to stop, forcing every inch of that fuckingthinginto me and ruining me.” I reach down to grab his stiffening cock, and he wraps his hand around my wrist, his huge hand encircling me like a collar.