Page 131 of Eternal Light

There’s an almighty roar above and behind them, so Grayson sends a second rope of fire and light upwards, knowing without looking that his alpha has them. He feels both tethers snap taut, yanking Grayson’s arms painfully between them.

When Grayson looks down, he sees that Rowan has shifted back mid-fall and has wound his other hand tightly around the fiery bond. Neither Rowan nor Jay is meant to handle The Plain in this form, but there’s nothing he can do to temper the burning pain from their grip on pure fire.

Looking up, he sees Jay’s face contorted with painful effort, claws dug into the edge of the wall, their alpha bearing their combined weight in one hand.

There’s a peal of maniacal laughter on the wind that transforms into a haunting scream before it’s cut off, and then there’s nothing but the howl of the wind.

25

So Shifts The Balance Of Power (Gideon)

The crowds of sycophants at Carnell’s parties never fail to disgust him. When he’d been a child, the low hum of voices, bright lights, and strangers in his den had made him anxious; made him want to hide in his room, where the familiar scents of his toys and blankets soothed the seeds of anger and fear. Even that last year, when he’d been only ten and his father had forced him into a suit like a tiny member of his army, Gideon had just wanted to be somewhere quiet.

Now, especially, he loathed the stares and whispers; he wanted to take his mates and bundle them out the door. But he loathes his father even more.

He’s waited a lifetime for this moment—to stand before his father as an equal—and he sure as fuck isn’t going to waste it now. It’s almost laughable, really, to think that he could have walked into one of his father’s parties years ago and caused thismuch chaos just by existing. Yet here he is now; and ruffled, Carnell most certainly is.

Their host looks utterly ridiculous in his too-tight white suit and matching white shoes, more fit for a Las Vegas stage show taming tigers than for hosting a gathering of elites whose combined net worth could rival that of small nations. While taller than Gideon, Carnell is built like a scarecrow—thin and awkward.

A mental image of him standing in a cornfield, arms outstretched as birds perched on him without fear, flashes unbidden into Gideon’s mind. The illusion is only heightened by Carnell’s leathery, sun-scorched skin, browned like an overripe prune, and the blindingly bleached teeth that gleam with an almost cartoonish brightness in the light.

Carnell is still wasting Gideon’s time with false social niceties while expecting Gideon to play along.

“Allistair, what an unexpected pleasure,” Carnell drawls, his voice slick with oily charm, thin lips curling into a mockery of a smile, dripping with condescension.

Gideon smirks. “I somehow doubt that, given that you invited us.”

There’s only the smallest eye twitch at Gideon’s failure to show his sire the respect he feels he’s owed.

“This is a celebration in your honor.”

“We received all of your invitations. You were so eager to have us that I could hardly resist coming to see what the fuss was all about.”

Luca snorts from Leo’s left.

Carnell’s jaw tightens, but his smile stays in place.

“Come,” he says smoothly. “It’s almost time for your coronation.”

Coronation?

Good Goddess, this must be about the prophecy Luca and Nix mentioned. His father’s obsession with Oracles and magic hadn’t faded with time, then. Gideon had always believed that the mysteries of magic weren’t for regular people; ironic, surely, given that he has his own magical mate. Regardless of the truth about magic, Gideon wants nothing to do with the madness in Carnell’s eyes or the delusions that have sustained him for a decade or longer. No, Gideon has his own agenda.

It’s difficult to ignore his mates behind him, but he shoulders this persona nonetheless, needing to see it through. So he shakes his head, smoothing his expensive black suit jacket down over his stomach as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

“I don’t think so.”

Luca gasps behind him; he hopes his mate can hang on to his composure, because he can’t spare a glance to make sure he’s all right.

It’s rewarding to see Carnell’s mask slip, his carefully constructed façade cracking as a heavy silence falls in the aftermath of Gideon’s words. The illusion falters even further as Gideon continues his verbal onslaught.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation outside. I’m not the boy I once was. You’ve murdered my mate—my alpha. Surely that warrants further…discussion.”

Leo tenses in his periphery.

This isn’t exactly the plan Leo had laid out for him in the early morning hours, where he’d said if Gideon could get Carnell alone, he would make sure Luca and Nix were elsewhere, as he didn’t want them to bear witness to Carnell’s squealing demise.

He knows he’s hit his mark when Carnell’s eyes flash red, and he growls, “Surely you aren’t challenging me. Here. In my own home. In front of the entirety of Florida and Nashville’s elite?”