Page 199

Elias
Now is not the time. I know this. Gods, everyone knows this. We’ve got two men missing, a resurrected Binder who should’ve rotted in the bones of history, and Luna is spiraling into something that looks less and less like humanity every time she breathes.
So yeah.
Now is not the time.
But the pull? It’s gnawing through my ribcage like it’s trying to dig its way out.
And if I don’t do this, if I don’t say something, I won’t be able to think straight. I’ll be too full of want, of heat, of her, and it’ll twist me into something worse than useless.
I stop in front of her door.
My hand lifts. Pauses.
I’m Elias fucking Dain. I’ve made gods cry and demons blush and once told a high priestess to kiss my ass mid-exorcism.
But now?
Now I can’t move because I’m afraid the woman who already lets me into her bed won’t let me past her walls.
Still, I knock. It’s soft. Pathetic. A sound that says, I’ll take no for an answer, just say something before I combust.
The door creaks open.
She’s there. Barefoot. Wrapped in nothing but a thin black robe that clings to her like it was made of ink and hunger. Her hair is down. Wild. She looks like she hasn’t slept.
Like maybe she couldn’t.
And then she says it. My name.
“Elias.”
Just that. And the way she says it, Like it hurts her. Like I’m a problem she hasn’t decided whether to solve or savor.
It takes me too long to respond. Because I’m standing there, staring, trying to force my brain to reboot, to rewrite, to give me anything other than what’s clawing at my throat.
And what comes out?
What escapes me?
“So I think we should bond now.”
Silence.
I want to die. If Silas were here, he’d be on the floor, wheezing, probably clutching a chair for support and shrieking something like “Finally!” while Lucien debates whether to hex me mute for eternity.
Luna doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t even blink. She just stares at me. Not angry. Not amused.
Just watching.
I shift my weight, palms suddenly too warm, chest too tight.
“Right,” I mutter. “I realize that sounds a little like a marriage proposal from someone who forgot the flowers and brought emotional baggage instead.”
Still no reaction.
I clear my throat. “What I meant was... I don’t want to be this close to you and still outside of whatever it is you are. I already want to tear people apart for looking at you too long. I dream about you, awake. And if I don’t bond now, I’ll keep pretending I’m okay with just... this.”