Page 71 of Bonds of Starfall

It was their last hope, after all.

They were all on a path of convergence—all five of them—and Atlas would watch, knowing he would be last. The sixth.

The twin moons on Sibeth glowed faintly in the neon haze of the capital. The pristine paved roads were bustling this time of night, when sin was everywhere.

His shadow flickered, hopping from one wall to the next, blending with the flashing lights seeping through the opened doors of clubs. Crowded, thick, and teeming with scantily dressed incubi and succubi on the prowl for a meal.

The Celestial could easily blend in…

He shouldn’t risk it. But tonight, restraint felt unbearable. He needed to be near her—not as a shadow, but as a man.

Slowly, Atlas let himself take shape; in the darkness of a hidden alcove, his shadow grew firm. Black hair, black eyes concealed with a simple glamor, turning them into a murky brown shade—forgettable. Strips of red and purple lights turned his black coat into a shimmering blur.

A whiff of cherries passed, and Atlas stepped out of the alcove at just the right moment, a smile tugging at his lips—he knew it would be the right moment; his threads were not nearby, but he would be a fool to mistake that scent for anything less than what it was.

Vesperin breezed by, either unaware or uncaring of all the eyes on her—watchful purple. Even a few humans or other species stopped to take her in as she marched down the street. Her white hair billowed behind her freely, wind from the trains overhead blowing down upon the street. Her skintight black pants clung to her lithe hips, the harness around her waistaccentuating her curves. Her lips were still swollen, hair slightly mussed.

And Atlas knew why.

Her steps didn’t falter, even though he knew she would still be sore.

She was a girl on a mission.

The Celestial leaned against the wall of a building, the metal hot from the pulsing bass thumping within, the scent of liquor clinging to the air around it. Bodies were pressing on each other as they walked down the street, hundreds of paths intersecting, but only one the Celestial truly cared about.

His threads of fate showed him everything. He could know a life’s entire path from the moment they were born until their death, and each decision that could create millions more decisions, those spawning thousands more paths—a tangled web of countless paths and opportunities and heartbreaks. All at his fingertips. It was tiring, to know so much. That was why he focused on the important things, not just the large things—sometimes the smallest of decisions, like a burnt piece of toast, could change the entire trajectory of a life.

Atlas was able to see it all. But he barely bothered. Except when it came to her—and her Soulbonds. Those five, he had a vested interest in. As well as all the others who sought to do them harm or keep them apart.

In knowing the important things, Atlas left the inconsequential bits hidden. So, he had no idea what was to happen when a series of events occurred.

An incubus walked by, juggling a plastic cup and a pastry in one hand. He distractedly laughed with a friend, bumping into a pole and making the cup fall from his hands, the liquid within splashing onto the street. A succubus tripped in her haste to get away from the puddle, making her shoulder check some human hanging off the arm of a wolf shifter, the tail behind the shifterswishing in ire as she snapped at the succubus and reached forward to shove her back. The succubus stumbled further… and that forced Vesperin, who was minding her own business, to get caught in the crosshairs.

The succubus fell back into Vesperin, forcing her off-balance—right into the wall where Atlas stood.

And, as if without his permission, his hands lashed out to catch her before her face could smack right into the metal.

Time slowed.

Vesperin’s hands came up to grasp his forearms as he held her, fingers tightening on her waist, the other on her shoulder. Her cherry scent was dark with pain and thick with lingering arousal. She smelled like sweat and pleasure.

His breath caught, stuttering out of him.

The sound of her surprise made his whole body awaken, as if he had been dreaming this whole time and only just snapped out of it. She was so close. She pulled away, pale lashes blinking up at him. His hands hovered midair, missing her.

"Thank you." Her husky voice washed over him, drowning out the sounds of the city.

Before he could speak, she was gone, drifting through the crowd and vanishing like a dream.

Cyrus wokeup in the hotel room alone. The sheets still smelled like Vesperin, but the bed was cold.

In the aftermath of feeding came clarity.

He hadreallyfucked up.

It wasn’t the first time.

Prince Cyrus Soltren of Sibeth often loved to steal away. The heir to a throne he didn’t want, and a father who never failedto lord his power over him, forcing Cyrus to carry out princely duties.