Page 142 of Lustling

Velora hesitates. “Where are we going?”

“There is only one person who can keep you hidden from my father.” I grab her hand, though it makes Bastion bristle. My patience is already ash. “And that’s my brother. Now move.”

We step out into the night air before a looming mansion, its façade cracked but defiant, pulsing faintly with the bass beneath it. Hellbound Hollow. Raziel’s den.

I drop Velora’s hand as if it burns and push through the doors. The bass thickens as we descend into the club, bodies and neon blurring at the edges. At the bar, Cassiel and Lilliensit with drinks in hand, laughing—laughing—as Raziel leans in, no doubt spinning some story from when we were feral boys running wild in Father’s shadow.

For one second, the sight guts me. Then Raziel’s eyes find mine. His jaw clenches when he sees Velora at my side.

Lillien grins when she spots me—until her gaze lands on Velora. The smile dies instantly. She’s on her feet in a blink, eyes burning. “What the fuck isshedoing here?”

Raziel doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His glare is sharp enough to flay me, and with a tilt of his head he orders me to follow. We all do, Velora trailing with smug amusement, which makes my teeth grind.

He leads us into a back room, slams the door shut, and then I’m shoved hard against it, the air knocked from my lungs. Power coils around me like iron bands. Raziel’s strength.

“What the fuck is she doing here, Deimos?” he snarls, voice rough with fury. “Why would you bringherhere?”

“He owed me,” Velora says smoothly from behind him, arms crossed, lips curving in a smile that makes me want to strangle her.

Lillien stalks toward her, fire sparking at her fingertips, nails elongating into claws. “And who the fuck are you?”

Velora’s laugh is cruel, cutting. “Someone who had Deimos long before you were even born.”

Lillien’s snarl is pure animal. Angel fire flares at her claws, bright and lethal, before Cassiel grabs her waist and hauls her back. Bastion moves too, gripping her hand and shaking his head with a rough laugh.

“Everyone calm down,” Cassiel grits.

“Calm?” Lillien hisses, straining against them.

I sigh through clenched teeth, fury simmering, glaring at Raziel pinning me to the wall. “Can you let me go, brother? Or do we brawl like children first?”

He growls low in his chest but releases me, shoving off with enough force that I stagger. “Talk.”

I straighten, roll my shoulders, and glance at Lillien. Her chest heaves with restrained rage, her glare still locked on Velora. I cross the room, catch her face in my hands, and crash my mouth to hers until she softens under me. “Velora knows you’re my mate,” I murmur against her lips. “She isn’t here for me. Calm down, Lustling.”

She growls, but the fire in her hands dims. She stalks to the couch and drops into the middle cushion, Bastion and Cassiel bracketing her like sentries.

I turn back to Raziel. He leans against the desk, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me with disdain. “I owed her,” I echo. “She wanted me to ask Father to end her punishment. Instead, I dragged her out myself. She’s been in chains for centuries, Raz. She deserves a life after everything.”

His jaw tightens, eyes flicking from me to Velora, who lingers smugly by the door.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she mutters.

“Maybe not,” Raziel bites back, his voice low and dangerous, “but you do need me if you want Father’s eyes off you. And what kind of life is that, Deimos? Running. Hiding. Pretending she isn’t marked.”

“Please, Raz,” I say, the words tasting like acid. “I know I’m asking a lot.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes dark, his fury only barely contained. “You always do.”

The room goes still. Silent.

Raziel stares me down, arms crossed over his chest, every line of him carved from stone. Bastion’s jaw is set, Cassiel hasn’t taken his eyes off Lillien, and she’s still bristling on the couch, ready to tear Velora apart if given the chance.

I stand there, waiting for my brother to speak. But he doesn’t. He justburns.

“Raz,” I say at last, quieter than I mean to. “Please.” The word cuts through the silence. It tastes bitter, foul, but I force it out again. “Please, brother.”

His eyes narrow, ember-bright. Finally, slowly, he pushes off the desk, the air around him thickening until the lamps flicker. He takes a step toward me, and then another, until we’re face to face.