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Kaos and Kross stepped back, and he hurried in and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “My Lost Saint,” he croaked around thick breaths, his agony a vice on Reuban’s chest. “How I love you.”

“I love you! I love you so much.” She pulled away, frantic. “Kildare!” she called, opening her arm for him to come. He sat next to Krave and kissed her cheek and forehead.

“My Queen,” he whispered hotly.

“Reuban?” she gasped, pulling away, looking.

Reuban hurried forward, keeping hold of Larena’s hand as Krave and Kildare made space for him. His heart battered his ribs as he dropped to his knees beside the bed, Josie’s trembling hand falling into his.

“Josie,” he said thickly, barely recognizing his own voice.

Her fingers gripped his with frantic strength, as if terrified she might slip away again. Tears streaked down her pale cheeks, but her eyes — God, those eyes — still burned with life.

“Thank you,” she gasped, her gaze darting to Larena. “And thank you,” she added, voice hoarse with wonder before she swept her gaze over all the faces around her. “Where is your Parvor?” she asked Larena, her voice breaking. “I want to thank him too, he was so very kind.”

Reuban tightened his grip on her hand, grounding her as Larena sat carefully on the bed and brushed dark hair from Josie’s damp forehead. “I sent him home to his family, daughter,” Larena said softly, her voice a soothing balm against the storm still trembling through the room.

She leaned and pressed her forehead lightly to Josie’s, the gesture so intimate it tightened something raw in Reuban’s throat. “And it is I who must thank you,” Larena whispered, stroking Josie’s hair with infinite tenderness. “For choosing with your mother’s heart... no matter the cost.”

Josie’s whole body shuddered under the weight of those words as Kross edged forward, still cautious, still reverent.

Josie opened her arms without hesitation and pulled her son against her, burying her face into his chest with a sob so deep it ripped at the soul.

“You brought me back,” she whispered, raw.

Reuban blinked against the sting in his eyes, feeling Larena’s steady hand still wrapped around his own — grounding him.

“No, Mother,” Kross murmured against her hair. “You never let us go.”

A sacred ripple of their combined powers went through the room and Reuban bowed his head at the weight of it — the miracle breathing right in front of them — a love so fierce it had ripped a hole through death and dragged her back.

And somehow, impossibly, she was stronger for it. They all were.

****

Reuban stood near the panoramic window, his hands braced against the cool stone frame as he looked out over the endless stretch of cliffs and restless sea below.

The safehouse sat like a ghost etched into rock, half-hidden by mist — a place no one could ever stumble upon without a map.

And yet Kross knew the exact way there which meant he had it written on the walls of his mind. Something only Raviel could draw.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze resting on the misted line where moonlit sea met sky. Waiting. Raviel would come. And with him, answers they weren’t sure they wanted.

Behind him, a single lantern hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the sparse furnishings and the single, narrow hallway leading to private rooms.

An hour had passed since their arrival. Josie rested in one of the rooms, tucked into a simple bed in one of Kaos’s healing sleeps. Larena was in the single large bathroom, following Reuban’s orders—a long soak in the stone-carved bath.

The Sinner’s Bond pressed down on his every cell, demanding pleasure punishments now—no more waiting. Reuban knew better than to ignore it. He had no doubt that if it was forced to take matters into its own hands, the punishment could turn public. And he couldn't permit that.

His body stirred in the building hunger, now less quiet than before his last breath. A threat. A warning.

Reuban caught the reflection of Kaos in the window, sitting at the head of the table in the black Henley sweater he’d selected for him.

The scarf Larena had thought of, remained in the bag after he’d regarded it with a thousand degrees of dark disgust. His hair hung in chaotic strands to his shoulders, like glistening tar made of thick silk.

A picture of evil perfection. Personified.

“How much longer will she need to rest,” Krave muttered to Kaos. “She’s been dead asleep for three days.”

Kross stood at the wall, tracing his finger over a map then quickly blowing out the fire he accidentally created. “It’s only been seven hours and forty-three minutes,” Kross casually informed, still oblivious to sarcasm.

“She needs her strength for what’s coming,” Kaos said, his tone a dark grumble.

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’s the fourth 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 kissed him 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?”

“Uh… no,” Kross hurried, before Reuban could even process the question. “You… truly wanted to take his power and—”

“For a just cause,” Larena snapped, getting Kross’s boyish grin.

“Yes, but… that’s not what made it a sin, Aunt Larena.” He aimed his raised brows at her. “You wanted to kiss him.” He got extra hesitant, slowly lowering his fists to his lap. “More than you wanted the power you needed.”

Larena’s gasp flew out as Reuban’s gaze landed on her.

Kross went on, carefully now. “The uh… Sinner’s Bond enacted a divine contract… which… allows him to borrow your power—whenever he needs it.”

“Borrow?!” Larena half-yelled, glaring at Reuban like he’d just robbed her in broad daylight.

“Well…” Kross bravely continued. “When you stole power from him, it… technically defined the structure of the bond. So when he needs or wants power—the way that you wanted and needed it—he takes it. The same way you did.”

“Ho-ly shit,” Krave marveled in quiet glee as Larena’s sputtering dumped out everywhere.

She finally spun and hurried out of the room in an emerald fury while Reuban stood in a burning shock with the meanest, most vengeful lust he’d ever felt pummeling his cock. Go punish her. Right now. This fucking instant.

Reuban shot out to do exactly that while his mind fought to catch up.

“Oh hell,” Kildare mused eagerly.

“Now I want to know,” he heard Kross wonder behind him. “How do I get one of these Sinner’s Bonds?”