Page 44

??The Night Before the Reckoning

Ember

Dorian wrapped one arm around my waist, the other bloodied hand lifted to the sky as ancient glyphs shimmered across his skin, runes of shadow and bone that pulsed with power only the old gods still feared.

The air crackled. Time warped. And with a guttural word from a language long dead, the world folded in on itself.

A rush of wind slammed against us as the shattered Veil behind my mother’s house began to seal, stitches of black flame threading through the rip, searing it shut with his blood and will.

Screams echoed from the other side, clawing to escape, but his magic roared louder. Then everything went still.

We were gone in the next breath, reappearing inside the marble foyer of his mansion, my body trembling in his arms, smoke rising from the soles of our shoes, the lingering scent of hell trailing behind us.

The room buzzed with a low hum of energy, thick with tension and the copper scent of magic. Dorian stood across from me, shirtless, bruised, but still impossibly in control, his body carved like a god, his jaw set like a blade.

“You should rest,” he said, voice low, calm, but edged like always. “Tomorrow’s going to break something. Might as well not let it be you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Aww, how sweet of you, husband. Really. Is that your version of a lullaby now? ‘Go to sleep, Ember, or the apocalypse might mess up your hair.’”

He stalked toward me, slow, deliberate, and every step made the tension in my spine twist tighter.

“No,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from my face.

“It’s my way of telling you I won’t be able to stop myself if something touches you.

So I’m asking nicely, save your strength. Because if you fall… I fall with you.”

I swallowed hard, heat tightening in my chest. “You weren’t supposed to be the poetic one.”

He leaned closer, breath ghosting my cheek. “You weren’t supposed to be mine.”

But I was. And we both knew it.

A knock rattled the room door. The map table flickered to life as our allies stepped inside. The seer, wrapped in celestial silk. The serpent witch, hissing low beneath her breath. A man with storm eyes and silver veins pulsing beneath his skin.

All of them drawn here by what broke through the Veil. All of them are now bound to this cause.

Dorian’s hand found the small of my back as I stiffened. “You okay?” he whispered against the shell of my ear.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, then pressed a kiss there. “But you’re mine. So we’ll fix it anyway.”

The silver-veined man stepped forward, setting a broken bone-like fang on the table. “The beast we fought was only a scout,” he said. “It mentioned Kreed. And Cassian.”

“Not Cassian,” the serpent witch corrected. “Something wearing his skin.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach.

“Cassian is dead,” the seer confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper. “The creature that walks in his body is old. Older than your stars. And it serves only itself.”

“And what does it want?” I asked.

She looked at me, eyes milky, distant. “You. Him. The Veil. Open.”

The table cracked beneath her words.

Dorian tensed beside me, the predator in him uncoiling, coiling again. “Then let’s give it hell.”

“We’re not ready,” the storm-eyed man said.

Dorian’s hand tightened around mine. “Then we get ready. Fast.”

A low boom trembled through the mansion, an echo from the border. The Veil was thinning again. They were testing it. And they wouldn’t stop until it shattered.

I turned to Dorian. “We should’ve had a honeymoon before the apocalypse.”

He smirked, eyes glinting. “We had a mating ritual and three orgasms. That counts.”

“Aren’t you charming.”

“I can be more charming with less clothes.”

I shoved his shoulder, but didn’t move far. “We’re going to have to kill something again soon, aren’t we?”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “Yes. And I’ll make damn sure it bleeds first.”

And just like that, we were back in sync.

Watcher of the Veil and her Keeper... Yin and yang.

Together, dangerous.

Alone, doomed.

But either way, we’d see this war through.

And we’d burn the world down before we let it take each other.