Page 29 of The Syndicate’s Shadow Heiress (Branche de Lune Syndicate #1)

FIRE AND FLESH

Kali’s Emotional State: Unleashed. Wrath was slicked with pleasure. Her body was still burning from Lev's hands, her magic coiled tight, and every part of her felt alive in the worst and best way.

T

he moment they stepped from the war room, Kali barely made it two feet before Lev grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against him. Her back hit the hallway wall—hard. Her breath caught. He didn’t kiss her yet, just stared, memorizing a blueprint for ruin.

“You sent me out,” he rasped, voice shaking with restraint. “Made me watch while he touched your magic. Made me wait while you nearly tethered.”

His eyes burned with possessive fury.

“Now I need to remind you who saw you first. Who burned for you before you ever let yourself want?”

Kali arched a brow, shadows unfurling behind her like phantom wings. “That? It was a taste. You think you can handle the whole meal?”

Lev’s mouth crashed into hers like a war declaration—fast, filthy, claiming. Kali kissed him back with teeth, nipping his lower lip. Their bond crackled, lightning beneath skin. Magic erupted where mouths collided.

She felt his control snap and didn’t care.

Kali didn’t take his hand. Her shadows did first, brushing against Lev’s palm like smoke with teeth, testing the edges of his patience and restraint. When she finally placed her hand in his, the contrast in size was laughable. Dominance pulsed beneath his skin. Shadows coiled beneath hers.

As Lev pulled her forward, she didn’t resist. Instead, she leaned into his chest and inhaled deeply. That scent: wild cedar, smoke, and something distinctly his. It grounded her. Not safety from him—from everything else.

Lev tipped her chin with a single finger, slowly and reverently.

“I see the real you, Kali.”

A flicker of fear skittered through her chest, not fear of him. Fear of being seen too clearly, too completely.

And then he kissed her.

Not greedy. Not rushed. A kiss that felt like molten iron poured into the cracks of her soul. A kiss that whispered of war, of want, of every unspoken promise.

Without breaking their connection, Lev swept her into his arms effortlessly.

Her body was molded to his, as if it had been carved just for him.

As they moved through the corridor, the silence wasn’t awkward, it was electric.

Her thighs clenched from the pressure of his cock, already stiff beneath her .

He carried her into one of the untouched private suites. Thorne’s magic had tainted her room. This one was clean. The air didn’t dare whisper.

He set her down slowly, too slowly.

Kali slid down his body deliberately, letting her curves drag against every inch of hard muscle and restrained hunger. Her panties were soaked, her inner thigh already slick. Their kiss deepened, devolved, became need.

Lev’s hands moved with purpose, undressing her piece by piece, like unwrapping a weapon disguised as a goddess. Lace fluttered to the floor. Her skin flushed under his gaze.

When his fingers slipped into the front of her panties, Kali gasped.

“You’re soaked,” he growled. “Is this all for me?”

“Who else would survive it?”

He dropped to his knees again, this time not for worship—this time for possession. His mouth sealed to her core, tongue working slowly, then faster, dragging sounds from her throat no one else had ever heard. She came once, hard, but it wasn’t enough.

She shoved him back, smirking. “My turn.”

She knelt.

Unzipped his jeans. Freed him.

Thick… Hard…. Hers .

She dragged her tongue along the underside of his cock, slow, deliberate. Then wrapped her mouth around him and sank deep. Lev’s groan cracked something in her chest. His hand tangled in her hair, trembling.

“Fuck, Kali—”

She didn’t let up. She worshipped him the way he’d just worshipped her, devoted, unrelenting. Shadows aided her rhythm. When he came, it was guttural. Her throat swallowed every drop.

She rose slowly. Smirking.

“Not done yet.”

He lifted her, carried her to the bed, and laid her down.

This time, when he slipped between her legs, when his cock pressed against her soaked entrance.

“Now,” she whispered, breathless. “Now, we burn.”

He pushed into her. Finally.

That was when the bond snapped wide open.

Pain flared behind her eyes, too much, too fast. But she wanted it. Welcomed it.

They moved together, breath and shadow and fury. Every thrust sent magic cascading. Every grind lit a star behind her ribs. And then… .

The vows spilled from both of them in Zarokian, ancient and burning:

“ Kazir'val du'shaadra, iin tor’val veydras.” I do not yield. I burn with you.

“ Marn’ir vas drevan, iin kor'bal ven’tai.” I do not break. I bleed for you.

“ A’korith ven saar, ven karith, ven aelir, ven draeth.” I choose you.

Magic exploded, massive and ancient. Shadow and fire collided in her veins. Kali’s world didn’t just burn, it broke.

Her bonded mark seared across her hip. Her vision blurred with prophetic shadow. She saw a woman, herself, older, deadlier, reaching from a throne of Hollow glass.

“You remember nothing,” the figure whispered. “But the Hollow does.”

Kali screamed.

Darkness.

She woke, gasping. Lev’s arms were around her. But pain pulsed like poison. Her joints screamed. Her magic flared wild and bloody.

Blood dripped from her nose.

Astraeus appeared in wrathful smoke.

“You saw it,” he said softly. “You felt the throne. ”

“What does it mean?” she rasped.

“The Hollow tasted your bond,” he warned. “It wants more.” A pause. Then gentler. “Be careful who you touch next, little shadow.”

And then he vanished.

Lev reached for her. “You’re burning…..”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. Regret tightened her throat. The flare surged. And through it, the hunger…Thorne…pulled tight.

Irina entered, sharp-eyed, voice dry. “So much for pretending you weren’t bonding with him.”

“I didn’t pretend. Just didn’t warn you.”

“Good. Would’ve ruined the show.” She moved closer. Brushed Kali’s cheek. “You okay?”

Kali slid out of the bed, her legs trembling.

The floor felt too far away, too unstable.

The flare made her limbs heavy, her joints ached like someone had poured fire beneath her skin, and the pain in her feet, when they touched the floor, was as if her ankle was broken in three places.

She bit the inside of her cheek, sucked in her breath.

She straightened anyway.

She pressed her shoulders back. Wiped the blood from her nose with the back of her hand. “No,” Kali said. “But I’m ready.”

Irina nodded. “Let’s wreck shit. If anyone touches you before you recover? They lose their hands. ”

Kali smiled faintly.

Every breath was defiance, and every step was rebellion and only Irina knew where and how to sew her back together.

And behind Irina…silent, still, and unshakable…stood the pack.

Tiger. Kota. Nickel. Megan and Spike, who were riding shotgun on Kota’s back like a little general.

And Vaerkyn, hellhound and shadow-forged sentinel, standing tallest among them.

They didn’t growl. Didn’t bark.

They just watched.

Like sentinels waiting for a signal.

Like the war had already begun, and they were just waiting for Kali to give the order.

From the fields beyond the estate, a sound echoed.

Bentley bellowed. Deep. Thunderous.

A war-drum call in the body of a horse.

And the herd answered, ten voices raised into the storm-laced night, hooves pounding in the mud, breath misting into the air like smoke signals.

Not in fear. In reverence, and in recognition, because they all felt it .

The bond.

The flare.

The shadowfire stitched into the night.

And the Queen had risen.