Chapter 32 #3
Cyprian laughed from the seating area.
Moargan walked in, barely sparing the kitchen a glance before crossing straight to him by the sofa. He leaned down, said something too low for Ryneth to catch, then took the glass out of Cyprian’s hand like he’d already decided he’d had enough.
“I could’ve done that,” Cyprian said.
“But you love it when I do it,” Moargan replied.
Ryneth’s mouth twitched. Then he looked down and realized his thumb was rubbing over the ring Daven had put on his hand.
The metal sat warm against his skin now, but for a second all he could feel was Daven’s touch from earlier. The slow press of his fingers. The way he’d looked at him when he slid it into place like it meant something sacred.
“Stop thinking,” Daven murmured. “Drink.”
Ryneth took the glass from him and drank. The liquor burned, but it steadied him.
Across the room, Theo sat near the terrace doors with Aviel beside him, both of them quiet. Theo still hadn’t touched his drink.
Ryneth’s gaze caught there and stayed a second too long.
For a few minutes, nobody seemed to know what to say.
Then Kylix leaned back on the sofa. “This moment feels fucking sweet. The killing was perfect.”
Moargan swirled the liquor in his glass.
“And Attica is done. Bekn was the buyer. He ran the purchase through Attica, and Concordant covered the transport because Attica opened Helion to them. Bekn wanted to hurt the Imperial family badly enough to let them in. Concordant only wanted new territory.”
“Still pretending to be diplomats,” Helianth muttered.
“To be continued,” Kylix decided.
Moargan took a slow drink. “For tonight, let them pretend. The Concordant delegation is confined to diplomatic quarters, the ambassador’s under watch, the channels are locked down, and half the Luminary is already tearing through everything they touched.”
At the word ‘ambassador’, Vandor stilled where he stood beside Kylix’s chair.
Cyprian took a drink. “Romantic.”
“It is,” Yure said from the sofa without looking up. “Nothing says peace like surveillance.”
Helianth set his glass down. “I’m leaving.”
Cyprian looked up. “Already?”
“Some of us have better things to do than listen to Kylix talk about executions all night.”
Kylix grinned. “Oh, he’s definitely going to Archer’s.”
Moargan glanced over his glass. “That sounds like a bad decision.”
Helianth’s mouth curved. “That’s usually how I know it’s worth making, brother.”
Cyprian made a soft, scandalized sound. “Oh, he’s absolutely going to Archer’s.”
Ryneth smiled at that, but his head felt heavy. His whole body did after a day like this. He was tired. And though he was glad they’d all come to celebrate, he was ready for them to go home.
For him and Daven to be alone in the penthouse.
The thought sent a small flutter through him.
He pushed off the counter, gathered a few empty glasses, and carried them into the kitchen. He’d barely started washing up when Theo stepped in and held out two empty glasses.
Ryneth took them and set them down beside the sink. He didn’t know what to tell the other man.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Ryneth said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Theo’s fingers tightened once before he let his hands fall empty at his sides.
Ryneth looked down at the counter. “I wanted him dead.”
Theo finally looked at him then, eyes red and wrecked, and there was no accusation in them. Just grief too large to point anywhere clean. “I know that too.”
“For what he did to Helion. And to you.” Ryneth swallowed. “When you ran to him… there was still current in him. I could feel it under his skin. How did you touch him?”
Theo stared at his hands for a second too long. “I don’t know.”
He was still looking down when Aviel came up behind him and caught him by the throat.
Theo jolted, then stilled.
“There you are. We’re going home.”
Theo stayed tense for half a second before he gave in to the hold.
“Thanks for having us,” Aviel said. Then he steered Theo out of the kitchen, and the conversation ended with them.
One by one, the others drifted out.
By the time the penthouse finally quieted, the bottles were half-empty, the plates abandoned, and the city below had thinned to scattered gold.
Daven touched the back of Ryneth’s neck and led him onto the quiet roof terrace. “Come with me, baby.”
The night air hit cool against Ryneth’s skin after the heat inside. Helion burned below them in scattered gold, the same city they had stood above before, on another night, when everything between them had still felt sharp and uncertain.
Daven closed the glass door behind them and stepped in close, his hand sliding to Ryneth’s throat, thumb brushing once over his pulse before settling at the back of his neck.
Ryneth searched Daven’s face and went still. “I thought it would feel different when it was finally over.”
Daven’s thumb moved once over his pulse. “And what does over feel like?”
Letting out a breath, Ryneth looked over the lights below. “Like something ended.”
Daven stepped closer and brushed his mouth over Ryneth’s once, close enough that he had to tip his head back. “It did.”
Bekn was dead. The buyer was gone. The fear should’ve been over, but people had still died for it. The arena was still in his head. The noise. The heat. Theo on his knees beside Bekn’s body.
Daven rested his forehead against his. “I claimed you in front of all of them tonight.”
Ryneth’s fingers curled in Daven’s shirt. “And I claimed you back.”
Daven’s mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed dark on him. “You did. And you stood there wearing my mark in front of the whole city.” His hand tightened once at the back of Ryneth’s neck. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Ryneth looked at him.
Daven was still dressed in black, collar open now, blond hair out of place from the long night. He still looked too beautiful. Too dangerous. Exactly like the kind of man people feared on sight.
Instead, Ryneth only felt his stomach drop. His palm burned where their hands had touched. That pull low in his chest that had never once let him go.
“You make everything feel different,” he said quietly.
Something changed in Daven’s face, making him softer and darker at once. “Baby—”
Ryneth kissed him before he could say anything else.
Daven kissed him back with a rough sound, one hand tightening at the back of Ryneth’s neck, the other closing at his waist and pulling him in until there was no space left between them. The bond opened warm under his skin, and Ryneth let himself sink into it. Into him.
When Daven drew back, he rested his brow against Ryneth’s.
Ryneth stayed there, breathing hard, hands fisted lightly in Daven’s shirt.
Daven brushed his thumb over his cheek. “Come inside.”
Ryneth laughed softly and stole one more kiss.
Then Daven took his hand and led him back inside.