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“Aerix,” I breathe, running my fingers over the dress’s soft fabric. “It’s beautiful.”

“The real masterpiece stands right before me.” He brushes his thumb along my cheek, his gaze darkening. “Because nothing—no gown, no diamond, and no star in the sky—can touch the beauty I claim as mine. Now… turn around so I can help you into it.”

I stand, every heartbeat throbbing in my ears, and slowly remove my nightgown, so I’m bare before him.

He looks me over, then moves forward, placing a soft kiss on my hip—on the place where his name is scarred onto my skin. His lips linger there for a few seconds, and in those seconds, I suspect it’s going to be a while until clothes are put on me again.

I lean into him, threading my fingers through his silky hair, needing more pressure between his lips and my body.

He breathes a soft sigh against my skin, then reluctantly pulls away.

“You’re distracting me,” he tells me, his voice low with reluctance. “And as much as I’d love to indulge in every inch of you right now, we have plans that can’t wait.”

I open my mouth to ask him what plans, but he stops me before I can.

“You’ll find out soon,” he promises. “But not if you don’t put on this dress.”

He reaches into the box and removes something delicate—a chemise of sheer silk that looks like it was spun from moonlight.

“Arms up,” he instructs, and I comply, allowing him to slip the whisper-soft fabric over my head.

It settles like cool water, pooling around my hips.

I’ve never had someone dress me before. It feels strangely intimate, almost more so than when he feeds from me. Because this isn’t seduction—it’s ceremony.

“You are magnificent,” he says without even a hint of predatory edge to his voice. Just pure, raw admiration as he lifts the magnificent gown from its box. “Now, the dress.”

I step into it, and Aerix moves behind me, his fingers working the laces of the corset with practiced precision. Each pull cinches me tighter, molding the dress to my body.

I’ve never worn anything so exquisite—or so restrictive.

“Breathe,” he reminds me as he pulls the final lace. “But not too deeply.”

“If I’d known I was signing up for breath control,” I say, glancing at him slyly, “I’d have asked you to carve a safe word on me along with your name.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he growls, standing up, turning me to face him, and sliding his hands against the fabric at my hips. “Come with me. I want you to see yourself.”

He takes my hand—gently this time, not tight like while he was feeding—and leads me over to the full-length mirror in the corner of his chambers.

The woman staring back at me is a stranger. Regal, imposing, and dangerous. The dark fabric makes my skin look like polished ivory, and the diamonds—because I’m sure now that’s what they are—catch the light, creating a constellation across my bodice.

This is the girl who killed without remorse. The one who’s been in love with a vampire prince since longer than she cares to admit. The one who wouldn’t trade that prince for anything in the world.

“This isn’t just for me,” I realize, and his eyes meet mine in the mirror, his lips curling into that knowing smile I’ve grown to love and fear .

“No,” he confirms. “It isn’t.”

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The framing of my blood drawing. Sophia’s banishment for disrespecting me. The dress that’s clearly meant for public display.

This is his answer to my plea from last night. I told him I couldn’t live trapped within four walls forever, and he listened—in his own twisted, possessive way.

“You’re taking me outside these rooms,” I say, not quite a question, but an observation.

He steps closer, his chest pressing against my back, his wings curving forward. “Wait here,” he says, pulling himself away from me and walking toward his dresser.

He returns with a silver hairbrush, its handle inlaid with what looks like obsidian. Without a word, he turns me away from the mirror and carefully begins to undo my messy braids. His touch is gentle as he works out the tangles, starting at the ends and making his way up to my scalp.

The intimacy of the gesture transports me back to my first days in the Night Court—to the throne room when King Thanatos unbraided my hair with deliberate cruelty, stripping away my dignity with each stroke.

I felt violated then. Exposed, scared, and powerless.

“You’re remembering something,” Aerix observes, his fingers never pausing in their work.

“The king,” I admit, since there’s no point in hiding it from him. “When I first arrived. You saw it—he did this, too.”

Aerix’s hands still, and his magic sharpens, the air turning brittle around us.

“Not like this,” he finally says, resuming his brushing. The strokes are slower now, more deliberate. “Never like this.”

“No,” I agree, leaning into his touch. “That was about breaking me. This feels like...”

I trail off, uncertain how to describe the difference.

“Like worship,” he finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because that’s exactly what it is. You’re mine to protect. Mine to display. Mine to…”

I tense, waiting for him to say it.

His to love.

It doesn’t come.

It never comes from him first.

The silence hangs between us, his unfinished sentence leaving a void I’ve grown used to filling. Every time, it’s the same dance. I say it first, he echoes it back, and then he asks me to say it again—as if he didn’t believe me the first time.

I look up at him through the mirror, watching his wings shift behind him, betraying emotions his face won’t show.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him, running my hands over the front of the dress, feeling the way the diamonds catch on my fingertips. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn. I love it. Just like I love you.”

His eyes darken at my words, and his wings extend slightly, feathers rustling with a sound like distant thunder.

“You’ll stay with me?” He places the brush down on the table and lets his fingers graze my waist, as if he wants to hold tightly, but can’t bring himself to do it. “No matter what?”

The question beneath the question. The fear beneath the demand. It’s there in the tension of his wings and the slight tremble of his hands.

“Yes,” I promise. “I’m yours by choice, not by force. And I never want to let go.”

He exhales, a sound of relief so slight I almost miss it. Then he moves my hair aside, exposing the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. His lips brush my skin, and I feel the sharp graze of his fangs, not quite breaking the surface, but enough to steal my breath.

“You’re meant for me, Zoey. Designed for me by the gods themselves,” he whispers against my skin, his air magic cooling the spot where his mouth just was.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know. You’re in my veins and my bones, woven into the fabric of my soul.

There isn’t a realm I wouldn’t tear apart to keep you.

And now, you’re ready for me to show all of them that you’re mine. ”