MasukI stand by the door. “What?” Race doesn’t look at me at first. His gaze is fixed past my shoulder, toward the bathroom. “Your shower,” he says. “You used half my body wash.” I release a slow breath. Fuck. For a second, I thought— “Oh.” I force a shrug. “Had to wash the dirt and blood off from the fight.” I walk over to the door. “Thanks for helping me,” I say, already stepping away. “I’ll be leaving now.” The air changes and he’s in front of me before I can blink. “You aren’t leaving.” The finality in his tone snaps something ugly in my chest. A statement carved in stone. My spine stiffens. “Move.” He doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. I snap, temper flaring. “You think you own me now?” I reach for the handle. Pain flashes—sharp and sudden—as he grips my wrist and twists just enough to remind me how easily he could break it. I suck in a breath but I don’t cry out. “Don’t,” I say voice low and shaking with fury. “Fucking. Touch. Me.” His grip tighte
I wake to the smell of citrus and smoke. For a moment, I think I’m still dreaming. My body is warm. Too warm. The air feels heavy, charged, like something has already happened and I missed it. When I finally open my eyes, I know instantly. This isn’t my bed. I push myself up slowly, my pulse kicking harder with each second as my gaze drags across the room. Dark walls. Minimal light. Shadows clinging to the corners. Books littering the floor. Race’s room. The realization settles in my chest like a held breath. I run my hands through his sheets, grounding myself in the sensation. Silk-smooth. Cool. Clean. Everything here is black and gray, sharp and intentional. Masculine. Him. I check myself quickly and release a quiet sigh when I see I’m still dressed in the same clothes as last night. At least he didn’t cross that line. The hair on my arms lifts anyway. I feel him before I hear him. “Didn’t know what you’d do to me if I changed you out of those clothes.” My head snaps le
*Flash back to when they were entering the portal to the underworld.* — Chyne watches Race as she enters the portal. And I watch her. Her head disappears and I face him. “How did u find me?” “Let’s skip the pleasantries.” Calm and collected. The mask he always wore. This should be interesting. I eye him expectingly. “While you were playing .. house,” He pauses and gives me a look. The hairs on my arms stand under my clothes and I fight the urge to shove him. Has he been watching Chyne as well? Or just me? And for how long. “Ive been busy.. the king seems to have made himself disappear.” He eyes me. As if he might catch something on my face. This is news to me but I won’t show my surprise. “Didn’t know you were into watching.” I say with indifference, placing my hands in my pocket. “Nothing worth staying up for.” He smirks when my skins starts to smoke of its own. Asshole. “Made himself disappear?” I repeat changing the subject looking down the portal. What is
Damien’s POV The heat hits first. Not the comforting kind—the kind that crawls under my skin, restless, wrong. I look up from the book in front of me and shot to my feet. She’s hurt. The thought slams into me with enough force to crack stone. I sprint out the room. The corridors at Races place blur as I cut through them, steam bleeding off my skin in sharp bursts. Soldiers scatter. Someone tries to speak to me. I don’t slow. By the time I reach Race from teleporting the first thing I pick up is the smell of burned magic, it’s thick in the air. Holy fire. My chest tightens. Race stands near the boulders, calm as ever, like the ground didn’t just witness a slaughter. He’s cradling her against him—too close, too familiar. Her body is limp, head tipped back, dried blood at her jaw. Something in me snaps. “What did you do?” My voice isn’t loud, but the ground beneath my feet hisses. Race looks up slowly. Annoyed. “Saved her.” I’m in front of him before I realize I’ve moved. H
I wake up coughing, dust coating my throat. I blink and take in my surroundings. I’m seated on the floor by the window. I must have fallen asleep there—thinking about Race. I grimace and brush myself off. I need to keep my distance from him. Damien doesn’t seem too fond of him, and if we’re going to be allies, I’ll side with Damien… for now. It’s early, and my loyalty is to myself alone. There’s still something Damien isn’t telling me. Until I know everything—inside and out—I keep my guard up. My power hums beneath my skin, stronger now. I use it to push the dust out through the windows and doors, cleansing the house in one smooth sweep. The air clears. The place feels lighter. I’ll need new bedsheets. Pillows. Basic necessities. I’d always like to stay to myself here as much as possible. Going to the village will give me a chance to think over everything that has happened. The walk to the village is long, but with my body is finally back in place, it feels more like a st
When I get outside, Kennedy’s emotionless face flashes through my mind. The urge to laugh bubbles up, sharp and inappropriate. I shove it down and put one foot in front of the other. I know better than to show emotion here. The bear-paw boots I brought from home do little to steady me. Every step slips on jagged stone. There’s literally no sane explanation for why there are so many shitty rocks everywhere. The irritation simmers, fast and hot. Fuck. This place is messing with my head. My emotions are everywhere—too loud, too close to the surface. I want to scratch something. Anything. I force myself to breathe. Deep. Controlled. It takes effort, but I manage to cage the turbulence clawing inside me. After half an hour of walking—yes, walking, everywhere, because of course—something shifts. The silence starts to empty my mind, and I recognize the danger in that. I shake my head lightly, but my chest tightens anyway, pressure blooming for no goddamn reason. I ground myself th







