Page 14 of The Syndicate’s Shadow Heiress (Branche de Lune Syndicate #1)

WHERE TENSION brEAKS

Kali’s Emotional State: Fractured focus. Her control was unraveling. The Spiral Vault had stirred something ancient, and her pain was sharpening into something hungrier.

T

he doors to her suite slammed shut with a snap of thought.

Kali peeled off her coat and let it fall in a whisper of dark silk and shadow.

Her skin itched with raw energy. Bones aching.

Magic twitching like a live wire buried under bruised flesh.

The flare clawed at her joints like a storm trying to tear itself free from her veins.

She barely made it to the ritual stone counter before bracing herself, hands trembling as she gripped the edge. Her breath was ragged. Sparks flared from her fingertips—too small to be dangerous, but violent enough to sear the edge of the stone.

Astraeus loomed in the shadows like a silent sentinel.

“You are not made of glass,” he said, his voice like thunder behind her ribs. “But even Nightforged metal shatters if forged too hot, little shadow.”

Kali’s heart thudded. “I’m fine,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she believed it anymore.

“You lie even to yourself now. ”

The door creaked. Lev entered.

No knock. No hesitation. Just presence.

He paused when he saw her: back curved like a bow pulled too tight, energy vibrating off her like a weapon she could no longer sheath. A tremor ran down her spine, and her knees locked, barely keeping her upright.

“I told Irina to give you space,” he said.

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“Because space doesn’t soothe fire,” he answered calmly. “It feeds it. And I’m not letting you burn alone.”

He crossed to her slowly, Grounded.

Kali didn’t look up. Her voice was raspy. “This isn’t some damsel moment, Lev. You don’t get to play savior.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m not here to save you.”

His hand ghosted across the small of her back. She flinched.

“Don’t.”

“Say the word and I’ll stop.”

Silence.

Her breath hitched, caught on a flicker of memory—his hands pulling her out of that alley years ago, and her mother’s voice behind a slammed door. Blood on the stairs. The first time someone touched her gently, she didn’t know what to do with it .

His fingers dragged slowly up her spine—steady, claiming, leaving molten lines where only he could touch.

“You’re flaring hard,” he said. “Let me help.”

“Why?”

“Because you always carry the war, Kali. Let someone else carry you.”

She turned.

Their eyes met—steel to storm.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “Or get out.”

Lev lifted her onto the counter in a fluid motion.

For a split second, Kali froze—her breath caught, heart pounding, the weight of every wall she’d ever built pressing against her ribs.

A flicker of memory: bruises beneath silence, a door she couldn’t lock fast enough, a night she swore she’d never need anyone again.

Then, his mouth found hers like a vow carved in heat.

Her legs locked around his waist, shadows rising in the room like smoke drawn to flame.

This wasn’t romance.

It was combustion.

She bit his lip. He growled into her mouth.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she murmured.

“I don’t want change. I want the truth. ”

Her back arched. His hand slid to her throat—not to choke. To anchor.

"Hope you like hand necklaces, little shadow," he teased against her pulse, voice rough silk. "Because it’s the only jewelry you’ll ever wear while you’re mine."

She smiled. “It’s my favorite piece of jewelry.”

Her shadows flared at first—jealous, defensive—but when his mouth met hers, they softened. Not submission. Permission.

Even now, with Lev’s hands grounding her and her magic breathing softer, she felt it—the sigil still pulsing behind her ribs like a second heartbeat.

And then—she breathed.

Not relief.

But release.

The pain dulled. The flare softened. Astraeus stayed silent.

His weight lingered in the corner of the room like a storm not yet passed.

His voice slithered into her mind again, sharp and cryptic.

"You think this is over, little shadow? You think you’ve claimed what’s yours?

You don’t even know what you’re walking into. "

Protective. Bruised.

It wasn't healing. It was a reprieve. A stolen breath in a war that never ended.

This wasn’t mating .

It was reclamation.

When it ended, Kali collapsed against his chest, forehead pressed to his, breath still catching like a prayer half-spoken.

“I hate this,” she breathed.

Lev didn’t flinch. “What part?”

“All of it. The pain. The bloodline. The cost.”

He said nothing.

Just moved.

He helped her off the counter, guiding her to the chaise by the fireplace.

“Sit.”

She did.

He knelt. Removed her boots. Pressed into the knots behind her knees, the trigger points along her calves, and massaged her aching feet.

Her magic flared once, skittish, sparking against her skin—then slowly dimmed beneath his touch.

Not gone, but grounded. Her body responded like it hadn’t in years, the shift from tension to trust almost too much to bear.

The ache remained, but it no longer owned her.

Lev’s hands moved with certainty, not softness, and her shadows curled tighter around her hips in acknowledgment.

Not a threat. Not defense. Just presence .

The magic in her veins hissed, then sighed, recognizing touch not as a threat, but a shield. Her shadows curled around her shoulders—not like armor. Like a blanket.

Each touch, an unspoken promise.

“Let me carry it," he said again, voice a blade sheathed in velvet. "Just tonight. Just enough to keep you breathing.”

Kali didn’t argue.

She closed her eyes.

And let go.