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Kildare snatched one of the dining chairs and spun it around, sitting on it backwards. “And what’s coming?” he asked, propping his forearms on the chair top.

Kaos got up and walked to the window. “I don’t know. I’m waiting, like you, to learn that from Raviel.”

Beneath his anger for the unknown, Reuban felt a fear thick enough to choke a thousand demons. He couldn't decipher the context, but he understood, whatever it might be, was valid.

“Well, while we’re waiting…” Kildare said with a sigh. “When are you planning to update us on your marriage to the Angel of Mothers?”

Reuban stilled as he felt every eyeball in the room land on him. He made his way to the table and pulled out a chair, only to realize he didn’t want to sit. “You already know the details.”

“Well, your Sire doesn’t,” Krave informed, equal parts curious and offended.

Reuban’s taut nerves caught his blustery tone as he made his way back to the ocean view. “He refers to the Sinner’s Bond,” Reuban dropped.

The beat of silence broke with Krave’s, “The what?”

“Of course he doesn’t know,” Reuban said to the window. “Thanks to your level of non-commitment to our world’s rules and roles.”

“And I am still one thousand percent committed to that ignorance.”

“Maybe Kildare would like to educate you.”

“Big negative, King Emp,” Kildare smoothly declined.

The Dark Lust stirred at the smell of something close to sin in his selfish brothers and Reuban found himself wanting to dig into it.

“On its surface,” Krave began, accusation weighing, “it kind of sounds as if the Angel of Mothers is bound to you through sin.”

“It’s nice to see you’re not assuming I’m the guilty party,” Reuban murmured at Krave’s grinning reflection in the wall of glass.

“Not when I’m thoroughly aware of your anal rule-following ways. Which… leads me to wonder…”

“A connection of consequence was formed,” Kildare offered.

“And it’s judicial in nature, not optional,” Reuban informed. “And that’s all you need to know.”

“A connection of consequence?” Krave quietly wondered, withholding laughter.

“I kissed him in order to steal power.”

Reuban turned and got blasted with the Dark Lust as Larena entered, her shorn, ethereal beauty coming at him wrapped in flowing emerald.

“Since when do your kisses have power?” Krave marveled lightly.

“Since he became the fourth signature on Raviel’s covenant of Kings,” Kross informed, dropping into one of the chairs at the table.

“You’re saying… he’s a King?” Krave asked in open shock.

“He’sthefourth King, not a fourth King,” Kross educated. “He’s the keystone. The hinge. Without him, the door doesn’t open.”

Reuban turned at this news, finding their now Big King, twirling fire and wind between his fingers like a fidget spinner.

“He’s a Triune King,” Kross further explained. “Fire. Wind. Lust. But he doesn’t share it. Or balance it. He unites it. And he can wield all three.” He raised his gaze to Reuban, his own powers swirling in the depths. “The Mother of Angels kissedhim for power, but also engaged the dual transaction of the Sinner’s Bond.”

Reuban stilled at that, feeling a great implication. “Dual transaction?”

He nodded as he used the fire on his fingertip to draw designs on the table. “The Mother of Angels possesses a Mercy Matrix. It allows her to wield Empathic Transference. A power that converts emotional suffering into tangible spiritual currency. A necessity when empathy is required in vast quantities—as it is for all the mothers. And as it is for The Kollaborator King.”

Larena’s gasp drew his gaze. “You made me want the kiss to take my power?”