Chapter 13
Piper
Iwake to an unsettling quiet. Not bad, or even, cursed quiet. Just… different. Like the air is holding its breath.
I push myself upright, blurry-eyed, curls falling into my face. My room hums faintly with leftover magic—warm, simmering, restless. The kind that usually spikes when Slade is far too close for comfort.
Except—that feeling isn’t heat.
It’s weight. Calm, heavy, dangerous weight.
Something in him changed last night.
I hurriedly pull on black leggings, a cream-colored oversized sweater, and pull my wild curls back into a clip, adjusting the pendant at my neck. When I’m done, I grab my socks and head out the bedroom door. I almost trip, yanking on my thick Christmas themed socks, as I creep down the hallway.
“Newt?” I call softly.
A thump. The sound of paws hitting the floor. He appears—stretching, tail flicking, but… unusually alert. Eyes wide, and ears perked. Like he felt whatever shift Slade did. I scoop him up. “Okay, buddy. What happened?”
Newt headbutts my chin, which is reassuring… until he twists in my arms and stares toward the kitchen with an almost warning flick of his tail.
“Great,” I mutter. “Love that. What a vibe.”
Slade is standing at the counter. And I freeze. He’s… radiant. Not glowing, or sparkly. Just… more.
More presence—power. More demon prince energy he tries—and fails—to pretend he doesn’t have.
He turns his head slightly. “Good morning.”
My knees try to buckle and I silently curse them. “Hi,” I manage.
His eyes sweep over me once—slow, assessing, not predatory but not not predatory. “You look like you slept decently,” he notes.
“I tried.”
His mouth lifts slightly. “You succeeded.”
I roll my eyes to hide the treacherous warmth blooming in my chest. “Is Newt okay?”
“He’s fine.” Slade inclines his head toward the cat now weaving smugly between his ankles. “He is… comfortable.”
Newt rubs against him like they’ve been best friends for a decade. Traitor. But there’s another layer beneath it—something uneasy.
Rhea’s voice echoes in my head. “Let me take him if you go anywhere dangerous.”
I clear my throat. “Rhea said she’ll take him for a few days.”
Slade’s expression softens just a fraction. “Good.”
The tone beneath that one word chills me. “So,” I say cautiously, “you’re… different today.”
He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he turns fully toward me, arms crossing over his broad chest. And suddenly I understand exactly what changed. He’s in full demon-boss mode.
No teasing, smugness, or lazy flirtation. Just full on power.
“Piper,” he says quietly, “we need to discuss tonight.”
My stomach flips. “Lucifer’s Ball?”
His jaw flexes once. “Yes.”
I swallow. “Okay. Discuss.”
He watches me for a long moment, as if deciding how much truth I can handle. “There will be rules.”
Great. Rules from a demon. So reassuring. “Such as?” I ask.
Slade steps closer. Just one step. But it feels like a declaration. “One,” he says, voice low, “you do not wander. Not even a single corridor.”
“Noted.”
“Two. You do not drink anything that is offered to you, unless I personally hand it to you.”
“I sense a story there.”
“Several,” he says dryly.
Okay then.
“Three,” he continues, “the covens will be watching you. Some out of curiosity. Some, I suspect out of envy. Some because they’ll suspect you might hold something ancient.”
My heart thumps painfully.
“And four…” His eyes lock onto mine, burning green flame. “You do not take your eyes off me while we are in that realm.”
I laugh before I can stop myself.
“Slade, I don’t take my eyes off you here.”
“Yes,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “but tonight, it won’t be because you want to. It will be because you must.”
My laughter dies. “Why?” I whisper. It comes out smaller than I’d meant it to.
He hesitates. His voice lowers—dark silk, quiet and potent. “Because tonight,” he says, “all demon houses will attend. Every noble bloodline. Every heir. Every lord.” He pauses, green eyes blazing with something I’d rather not put a name to. “And they will all know what you are to me.”
A shiver runs through me. “And… what exactly am I to you?”
His throat works. “My mate.” The room goes still. Even Newt stops purring. “And that,” he adds softly, “will make you a target.”
My breath stutters. “But you’re just—you know. Slade.”
His mouth twitches. Then he steps forward, so close my heartbeat stumbles. “Piper,” he says quietly, “I have not been just Slade in a very long time.”
The power rolling off him finally clicks into place. I inhale sharply. “You’re a noble.”
“A lord,” he corrects softly. “By blood. By power. By birthright.”
My pulse kicks hard. Slade’s next words nearly melt my spine. “And when I walk into that ballroom with you at my side… they will all understand exactly what that means.”
I grip the counter for balance. “Which is…?”
He leans in. Not touching. Not quite kissing. Just close enough to steal air from my lungs. “That you are under my protection,” he whispers. “And mine to claim—whether I have formally made it or not.”
My pulse roars in my ears. “Slade…”
He steps back slowly, letting the distance clear the heat between us—but not the tension.
“We leave at dusk,” he murmurs. “Prepare yourself.”
“How?” I choke.
“Dress,” he says. “Arm yourself. Trust nothing. Stay close.” His eyes roam my face with a softness so fierce it hurts. “And Piper?” he adds, voice dipping low.
“Yes?”
“When we enter the Ninth Realm…” His gaze burns through me, “…do not let anyone convince you that I am anything less than the most dangerous thing in the room.”
I swallow hard.
“Because I assure you,” he finishes, “I am.”