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Rowen shifted, changing the angle to hit that perfect spot inside me with every stroke. I clung to him, my nails digging into the muscles of his back as I met him thrust for thrust.

"Mine," he growled, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he neared his peak. "Say it."

"Yours," I gasped, feeling my second orgasm approaching like a tidal wave. "Always yours."

He reached between us, his thumb finding my clit and circling it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, Sierra. Now."

The command, coupled with the dual stimulation, sent me hurtling over the edge. I came with his name on my lips, my inner walls clamping down around him. With a guttural groan, Rowen followed, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside me.

For several long moments, we lay tangled together, our breathing gradually slowing. Rowen's weight was a comforting blanket, grounding me in the present when my mind wanted to drift.

Eventually, he shifted to the side, gathering me against his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on my bare skin as we basked in the afterglow.

"Did it work?" he asked softly. "Did you forget?"

I smiled against his chest. "For a little while, yes. Thank you."

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Anytime, little witch. Anytime."

As I lay in Rowen's arms, satiated and temporarily at peace, I knew the respite was fleeting. Soon enough, reality would intrude again—the Shadow Beast, the prophecy, Archer's isolation, the impossible choice before us.

But for now, in this moment, I allowed myself to simply be. To feel loved and protected in the arms of one of my mates, and to hope that somehow, we would find a way through this darkness together.

30

Rowen

Itucked the blanket around Sierra's sleeping form, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her silver hair spilled across the pillow like moonlight, catching the dim glow from the embers in the fireplace. Even in sleep, she wore a slight frown, the delicate lines between her brows speaking volumes. The weight of our situation had carved itself into her features, aging her beyond her years in moments of vulnerability like this.

Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment to breathe in her scent—wild herbs and something distinctly her. "Rest well, little witch," I whispered against her skin, wishing I could absorb some of her burdens.

I grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and pulled them on, not bothering with a shirt. The palace corridors would be empty at this hour anyway. My mind was too full of concerns to sleep, thoughts racing like untamed shadows. Sierra's words about Archer had only amplified the unease that had settled deep in my bones days ago.

The stone floors were cool beneath my bare feet as I made my way through the dimly lit hallways, the ancient stones whispering secrets of centuries past. Torches flickered in their sconces, casting my elongated shadow against the walls. Wherewould Archer be? The library seemed the most likely place. He'd barely left it since bringing back that ancient tome, emerging only when forced to eat or when Sierra requested his presence.

I rounded a corner and nearly collided with Callum. He stepped back, his pale green eyes glinting in the low light like those of a predator in the dark. The shadows seemed to cling to him even here, wrapping around his tall form like devoted servants.

"Can't sleep either?" he asked, his voice low and melodic in the silence.

I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. "Going to check on Archer."

"I just came from there." Callum ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. The gesture was so uncharacteristically vulnerable that it heightened my concern. "He's still in the library, surrounded by books and looking like hell. Worse than yesterday."

My jaw tightened, muscles clenching painfully. "He's pushing himself too hard." It was an understatement. Archer had always believed self-destruction was a viable strategy.

"He thinks he has no choice." Callum fell into step beside me as I continued toward the library, our footsteps falling into synchronized rhythm. "The prophecy's weighing on him. I've never seen him like this, Callum. Not once in all these centuries."

Callum remained silent, letting me process outloud.

"Fuck the prophecy." The words came out harsher than I intended, echoing off the stone walls with raw fury. I felt my demonic nature stir, the urge to let my horns and claws emerge almost overwhelming. "There's always another way. Always."

Callum's mouth quirked into a humorless smile, the expression not reaching his eyes. "Is there? Because from where I'm standing, we're running out of options. The Shadow Beast nearly took Sierra and me last time. It's growing strongerwith each passing day. We all felt it. Despite me temporarily banishing it, we all know it's just a matter of time before it's back."

I stopped walking, turning to face him fully, forcing him to halt. "I'm not sacrificing Archer. Or you. Or Sierra. I've spent centuries ruling the Underworld by finding alternatives when everyone else saw only dead ends. This time isn't different."

"And I've spent centuries watching my realm slowly die until Sierra came along." Callum's voice was quiet but firm, a steel edge beneath the velvet tones. "Sometimes, Rowen, there isn't another option. Sometimes fate it written in stone and there’s not a damn thing we can do to change it."

Exhaustion crashed over me in a wave. I leaned against the wall, suddenly too tired to maintain the facade of the unshakeable demon lord I presented to my subjects. With Callum, there was no need for pretense.