Chapter 18
Sirens tore the night apart.
Red light strobed across the graveyard gates, washing the frost in pulse and blood. The Luminary convoy slid through the mist, engines growling low, doors hissing open before the brakes had cooled. Heat and static filled the air, the atmosphere already breaking before they had seen a thing.
Kylix stepped out first. Smoke curled through the iron arch as he adjusted his comms, Moargan’s voice still echoing in his skull.
“Cyprian called in the alert himself,” Moargan had said.
“He’s been drawing again. Says the graveyard keeps showing up in his work, same frost, same graves, same light.
He swears Mirel’s in danger. The images won’t stop.
I’ve already dispatched the Luminary, but you’re closer.
Go there now. Find him before it’s too late. ”
That was all. The rest was breath and fury.
Frost bit the air the moment Kylix crossed the threshold.
The gates hung half-open, crusted white.
The ground cracked under his boots like glass.
Gravestones rose out of the fog like ribs.
Each step forward deepened the chill until even the sirens grew faint, their sound swallowed by frost and fog together.
He saw movement ahead, a loose ring of figures shifting through the red haze, too many, too quiet. The fog shivered with heat and cold both, as if the world couldn’t decide which element would win.
A gunshot split the mist.
“That’s Vandor!” a Luminary shouted.
“On him,” Kylix snapped.
The guards surged forward. Shadows broke apart under the red wash, figures scattering like ghosts when the Luminary light caught their faces. The smell of fear and powder mixed with cold air, and in the center of it all stood Vandor.
Vandor’s back was to a smaller figure half-shadowed by the fog, his little ghost, pale and trembling, frost spidering from his feet.
Kylix stopped just long enough to take in the sight. Vandor’s stance was protective and steady, still holding Mirel behind him. Jealousy burned through Kylix’s chest, raw and humiliating. The air flared around him before he forced it still.
Vandor turned as the last of the attackers fled, eyes widening. He stepped aside immediately, creating space. “Sir, he wanted to go to the graveyard. I tried to—”
“Shut up.” Kylix’s tone hit like a cut. He didn’t look at him again.
He crossed the final stretch of ground, heat rolling ahead of him like a warning.
Mirel swayed. Kylix caught him.
Red lights bled across their faces, sirens still screaming through the night.
“Lock them down,” Kylix barked. “No one leaves the grounds. Get those bastards cuffed and catalogued.” His voice cut through the noise like metal striking stone. Guards moved instantly, scattering through the fog in pursuit.
Vandor approached, breath rough from the fight. “Sir…”
“Save it.” Kylix didn’t look at him at first. He still held Mirel close, the frost bleeding through his sleeves. Only when Vandor lingered did he finally turn, eyes narrowing. “You were standing too close, weren’t you?”
Vandor stiffened. “Sir, I was protecting him.”
Kylix’s mouth curved, humorless. “Of course you were. Looked almost tender from where I stood.” He shifted Mirel higher against his chest, voice low, laced with a heat that hurt. “But I think you forget yourself, soldier. He doesn’t need your arms. He has mine.”
Mirel tensed, a faint shiver running through the body pressed to his. Vandor’s jaw tightened, shame flickering across his face.
Kylix laughed quietly, a dark rasp. “You see? Even ghosts can blush.”
Then, with Vandor still standing there, he tilted Mirel’s chin and claimed his trembling mouth. The kiss was not soft. It was punishment and possession, for the men watching as much as for the one being kissed. Heat shimmered around them, steam coiling where skin met.
When he pulled back, Kylix’s smile was faint and merciless. “Now you know where he stands,” he said, voice a calm blade. “And where you don’t.”
He turned away, still holding Mirel, leaving Vandor in silence as the sirens began to fade. Frost cracked underfoot as they moved.
“Move.” Kylix’s voice was sharper this time. His hand stayed on Mirel’s arm, guiding him toward the waiting hover car while his guards swept the perimeter, dragging attackers into the light.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Mirel stammered, voice rough and thin.
“You think?” Kylix snapped. “I leave you one day and you nearly get yourself killed. You had guards, you had orders, and still—” His breath caught. Anger shuddered through him. “Stars, I should chain you again.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Mirel whispered. “They didn’t want me.”
“What?”
“I thought I could go home.” The words shook apart. “But it’s gone. They don’t want me anymore.”
Kylix’s nostrils flared. He smelled fear on him, sharp and metallic, a thing that twisted between pity and want. “Good,” he said finally. “Because you’re not theirs to want.”
He half-pushed him toward the car, the motion protective and furious. Outside, shouts echoed, metal clanged, boots stamped, authority stitching the night back together.
“Stop talking like that,” Kylix muttered. “You don’t belong in that dirt.”
Mirel’s lips moved again, barely sound. “I just wanted—”
“Enough.” Kylix caught his chin. “Look at me.” His grip tightened, forcing those trembling eyes upward. “You don’t belong anywhere but here. You understand?”
Mirel nodded. His breath broke into a soft whimper that scraped his throat raw.
Kylix exhaled, reached into his coat and drew a narrow vial of silver glass. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, catching the blue pulse of his heat. He unsealed it with a soft hiss and pressed it to Mirel’s lips.
“Drink,” he said. “It’s for your throat. I had it made for you.”
Mirel blinked, uncertain, but obeyed. The liquid burned cool as it slid down, coating his throat until the ache eased.
Kylix’s anger didn’t fade, but the sound of his next breath softened. “Keep it,” he said roughly. “You’ll need it, the way you talk back.”
Mirel’s mouth trembled in something close to a smile.
Kylix’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes. “Get in,” he said. “Now.”
They climbed inside. The door sealed behind them, cutting off the last echo of the sirens.
Inside the hover car, the noise fell away. The hum of the engine replaced the alarms, low and steady beneath their breathing.
Kylix leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed ahead. “I had to come here to save you,” he said, voice tight. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
Mirel glanced sideways, throat still raw. “S-sorry.”
“Sorry.” Kylix gave a humorless laugh, the sound scraping out of him. “You think I left a mission for fun? You think I enjoy storming through smoke because you can’t stay put for one night?” He exhaled hard, fingers tightening against his thigh. “Stars, Mirel… you drive me mad.”
“I thought—”
“No.” Kylix cut him off, softer but sharper. “You didn’t think. You just ran.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
Kylix turned then, eyes sharp in the red light of the cabin. “No. But I came anyway. Because apparently you need saving from yourself.”
Mirel swallowed, eyes wet again. “You shouldn’t have.”
Kylix’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Too late.”
He shifted closer, the air tightening. “Now you’ll make it up to me.”
Mirel blinked, startled. “What do you mean?”
“You cost me time. You cost me calm. You think I’ll let that slide?”
“I didn’t—”
“Shh.” Kylix’s hand brushed down his throat, the heat of his skin chasing the chill there. “You’ll make it up to me tonight.” His words came like a promise and a threat in one. “You’ll remind me why I keep saving you.”
The city slid by in streaks of red and gold. Neon bled across the hover glass, painting Kylix’s reflection in hard, beautiful lines. Below, Helion’s lower streets pulsed with life, crowds and smoke, all of it far beneath them. Inside the car, only heat and breath existed.
“You keep looking at the door,” he said quietly. “Thinking you could run.”
Mirel didn’t answer. His throat moved, a silent swallow.
Kylix’s mouth curved. “Don’t bother. Everyone on this planet knows who you belong to now.
The Imperial broadcast confirmed it this morning, the Prince’s chosen.
” His voice deepened, silken and cruel. “You were named mine before the whole Empire. I claimed you in public. You think I’d let my claimed one vanish into dirt? ”
Mirel’s breath caught.
Kylix leaned closer, voice a low burn. “You’re trembling. I like that. You’re still trying to decide if it’s fear or heat. Let me help you.”
He spoke like a promise, a threat made intimate.
“If I’d caught you running tonight, I’d have pinned you to the ground right there in the frost. I’d have dragged my hand through your hair and made you open that pretty mouth.
I’d have whispered every filthy thing I’m going to do to you until you forgot your own name. Until all you could say was mine.”
Mirel shuddered, hands fisting on his knees. His pulse beat hard under pale skin.
Kylix’s eyes tracked it, hungry. “You see? You already know what I’ll do. I’ll take you apart slow. Kiss you until you shake. And when I’m done, you’ll understand what it means to be claimed by me.”
The tremor that went through Mirel was unmistakable. Kylix didn’t know if it came from terror or want. Either way, it thrilled him.
He smiled, leaning back, voice steady again. “Good. You understand.”
Outside, the city lights thinned. The estate’s perimeter gates loomed, red lamps sweeping the car as it passed through. Kylix’s final words came quiet, almost tender. “When we get home, you’ll learn what it means to stay.”
They entered the estate without a word. The moment the door sealed behind them, Kylix turned, warmth radiating off him in waves. He didn’t wait. He dragged Mirel’s coat from his shoulders, stripping the shirt free, fingers burning where they touched.
“Up,” he said. “Now.”