Chapter 3
MAIZE
This time when I woke, the warmth around me didn’t come from false sunlight moving across my face, a mirage of peace that Oberon had created inside my head.
No, this warmth came from the bodies pressed close, from the strength surrounding me.
Muscular frames that made me feel safe, content in a way the Maize of three months ago would’ve never believed possible.
Even a few weeks ago, I would’ve laughed at the idea of anyone taking my hand, let alone holding me like this.
Yet here I was, nose buried against Maddox’s chest. I wasn’t particularly short or small, but his easily six-foot-five frame still dwarfed me, even lying down.
The way his hand held tight to my hip, his breath steady, his lips brushing my forehead—each small touch made my heartbeat match his, slow and even.
I knew that if I pulled back, I’d see his crimson hair, the stark tattoo that covered half his face, and the vicious scar at his throat.
And if I looked into his eyes, those neon-green depths would burn with that same intoxicating mix of desire and love.
Especially when he used those psychic abilities of his, peering straight into my mind.
The man was intense, devastatingly powerful but almost lazy in how he wielded it, preferring the simplest things in life like cuddling on the couch.
I wanted to see that again, to take in every detail of him, but I didn’t have the strength to pull away from this.
From the quiet of us. From the comfort I had lost at the hands of Oberon, when he ripped him away from me so easily.
To wake and find not only Maddox but also Charm in bed with me felt nothing short of miraculous. The mix of Maddox’s sea-salt-and-caramel and Charm’s sweet vanilla scent almost hurt; it was too perfect.
Charm’s arms were wrapped around my waist, his heartbeat a steady thud at my back.
The darkness of the room folded around us, my body sheltered between their broad, strong frames.
My gaze moved down from Maddox’s chest, tracing the way Charm’s golden arms tightened around my waist, the glint of gold rings decorating his fingers.
For all his broody, cranky moods, the man was the definition of sunlight.
Golden, wavy hair. Sunflower-and-amber eyes that burned with impossible intensity.
He looked angelic, luminous, every inch a fallen angel.
And yet the darkness beneath that beauty, the danger that came with his ability to twist desire into nightmare, was just one of the many things I loved about him.
My magic hummed quietly, content, as I tried to gauge the time of day through the darkness.
My senses picked up two more heartbeats in the space, both familiar.
Two of my mates. One near the window wall, the other at the foot of the bed.
My confusion about the time, any doubts I had that this was real, faded, replaced by a wave of hope and relief.
I think…I think everyone was okay.
It didn’t erase the guilt twisting in my chest, the knowledge that I’d caused them panic and pain, but knowing that Oberon hadn’t truly been able to reach them—hadn’t hurt them—was everything.
As I slowly sat up, Maddox and Charm’s grips relaxed, though I had a feeling that if I tried to move off the bed it would be enough to wake them. So instead I stayed still, seeking out Cannon—my wolf shifter—whose massive frame was slumped in a chair by the window, as if keeping watch.
Maker, he couldn’t be comfortable like that.
Although, judging by how exhausted he looked, I wasn’t sure it mattered.
In fact, everyone seemed so damn tired, and I had a feeling the strain I’d put on our bond was to blame.
His dark hair was mussed, sticking in ten different directions.
His shirt was wrinkled, and his warm, sun-bronzed skin looked too pale in the dark.
Everything about Cannon was normally grounded, but I could sense his wolf pacing back and forth, anxious yet elated that I was awake. Even so, his human half remained unconscious. I wanted to see those white-hot eyes open and meet mine, but it was clear he needed his sleep desperately.
“Little rose.”
Philip’s rough, sleepy voice moved my attention to where he sat at the end of the bed, his focus locked on me.
He must have felt me wake through the bond—probably because he’d been monitoring my dreams. Those rich sapphire eyes were filled with concern, and without a word, I crawled forward until I reached him.
His muscular arms slid around me, pulling me onto his lap with that effortless strength that always made me melt.
I let out a shaky breath and buried my nose against his neck. A deep rumble vibrated through his chest as his fingers threaded through my hair, possessive and tender all at once.
After a long moment I pulled back, my gaze tracing the dark fabric of his shirt and the angular line of his golden jaw. When I finally looked up, I found his rose-colored hair tousled, falling into his face. I reached up to push it back, leaning forward until my nose brushed his.
“You scared the hell out of us,” he admitted roughly, his familiar rose scent wrapping around me. The soft, floral note should’ve been anything but masculine, but somehow it was. On Philip, it was magnetic—dangerous and charming, yet still vulnerable in ways that never failed to undo me.
“I know.” I inhaled sharply, my eyes closing for a beat. “I have so damn much to tell you. We all need to talk, but…what happened? How long have I been out?”
“A few hours. Not long. You probably need more sleep,” he said, brushing my hair back. “When you went down, Maddox tried to reach you, but at the same time David and his fucking crew showed up—”
“What?” I hissed, fury rolling through me before I could stop it.
“Bastards tried to say they were here to arrest you for treason, that Queen Gray sent them. But the minute Valerio called them on it, everything went to hell.”
“Shit.” Panic seized my chest as I looked him over, searching for injuries. “Are you okay? Did anyone get hurt?”
“It was easy enough to take down David,” he said with a shrug. “We captured him, then Cirdan took him in for questioning. We’ll see what they decide to do from there. But he’s officially under arrest, and his so-called soldiers aren’t a problem anymore.”
But Zagan was. Especially since David had only ever been a tool for him and for Oberon.
“He may not be a problem,” I conceded, “but Oberon is. Oberon is very much a problem.”
A million questions flickered in Philip’s gaze, but instead of asking, he only nodded, clearly understanding that I needed everyone together before I could explain. My gaze shifted toward the bathroom, a small frown tugging at my lips. “I should shower. Take a moment to gather myself and wake up.”
“Or sleep.”
Cannon’s gravelly tone pulled my gaze toward him. He’d straightened and crossed the room, his white-hot eyes calm in that dangerous way of his as he crouched beside us and took my hand. “You need sleep, Maize. I can feel how exhausted you are through the bond. I can feel how depleted you are.”
“I’m fine,” I promised, though the waver in my voice gave me away, and both of them caught it. “I just…I won’t be able to get everything off my mind unless I tell all of you everything.”
“You aren’t fine,” he argued. “You died on us, Maize.”
“I didn’t,” I said softly.
“You almost did,” Cannon countered, his tone unyielding.
“Hey.” I reached out, brushing my hand along his jaw. “I know how terrifying that was, but you need to hear what I have to say. I promise once I’m done I’ll rest. I won’t push myself unnecessarily.”
He held my gaze for a long moment before something in him shifted.
Cannon’s wolf released its grip, the intense pull of our mate bond easing just slightly.
I swear, Cannon was the most steady, grounded person I knew, but his wolf was different.
Wild. Feral. The untamed counterpart to my mate, and one that could be very, very stubborn.
“Give me a few minutes. I won’t be long.” I offered both of them one last look before pushing myself up and heading toward the bathroom.
The moment I reached the doorway, I froze.
My breath caught. The air seemed heavier here, thick with memory.
My gaze blurred as the last few hours replayed in vivid flashes—Oberon’s power crawling across my mind, the feel of magic tearing through my chest, the sudden, terrifying silence that had followed.
My knees trembled, my hand braced against the frame as my magic flared weakly in response to the shadow of it all.
For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move.
“This way, Maize.”
Cannon’s voice was warm and firm, cutting through the fog as his arm slid around my waist. I let out a shaky exhale as he guided me away from my bathroom and into the darkened hallway.
My body leaned into his instinctively, his warmth and strength a steady counterpoint to the chaos still humming beneath my skin.
Oberon hadn’t touched me physically, but I still needed to remove any trace of him, to wash away whatever remnant of his magic clung to my skin. I needed burning-hot water, needed to feel it scald through the places his acidic power still lingered.
A shaky breath slipped from my lips as Cannon guided me through his suite and into his luxurious bathroom. He moved ahead of me once through the door, starting the shower, vapor already curling into the air. My gaze caught on the mirror, and for a moment, I barely recognized the woman staring back.
My hair was a tangled mess, streaked with dried blood from the fall.
My skin—normally pale, almost luminescent—looked chalky and tired.
Even my silvery eyes seemed dull as I traced my collarbone, the oversized shirt hanging low enough for me to see the outlines of my mates’ marks.
Each one was different, just like them, and together they outshone the old scars on my back and wrists that had once defined me.
My wings fluttered faintly beneath my skin, threatening to surface, but I forced them still just as Cannon returned to my side. The air was thick with the scent of lavender soap, a comforting warmth that finally let me breathe again.
“Take as long as you need. We have all night,” he murmured, his rough hands cupping my jaw. “I’ll bring you your clothes, so don’t feel rushed.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He answered with another deep rumble, the sound vibrating through both of us before he stepped back and left me to the white noise of the shower.
As I stripped out of my clothes and stepped beneath the shower, I let my wings unfurl. Hot water cascaded over every inch of me, steam wrapping around my body as I slumped against the tile wall. Shades of pink and violet flickered in my periphery, my wings shimmering in the cozy light.
Underneath my exhaustion, I could feel the pulse of my familiars, still recovering.
Sy and Lu. They had tried so hard to protect me, and now they needed the rest. I whispered a ‘thank you’ to them in the quiet of the room, gratitude flooding my chest. They had shielded me from the very beginning, back when I lived in the castle and was dealing with threats from the SE.
One day, I hoped their biggest concern would be something simple—me overtraining, perhaps—but until then, they needed to stay as battle-ready as I was. Which meant resting when possible.
Something about Oberon always left my magic feeling sick. Off. Toxic. But the hot water worked its way into my muscles, and slowly, finally, I began to feel fae again.
When I was done, I wrapped myself in a thick robe and padded into the bedroom, a sigh of appreciation escaping me at the sight of fresh clothes laid out on the bed. I slipped into leggings, an oversized sweatshirt, and socks, breathing in Cannon’s cedarwood and smokey scent.
“You left our bed.”
Maddox’s deep rumble drew my gaze to the doorway.
He leaned against the frame, watching me with quiet concern.
I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around his torso and he tucked me against him, his chin resting on top of my head.
The steady thud of his heartbeat pressed against my ear, and I melted into it, letting its simple rhythm remind me I was home.
“I did. But you know we need to talk about what the hell happened,” I murmured.
Maddox nodded slowly. “Oberon has to die.”
I didn’t disagree. Not in the slightest.
“Charm’s already downstairs with the others,” he said, taking my hand and leading me toward the door. But before we could reach it, the outside world pulled my attention to the window on our left.
Frost clung to the edges of the glass, tracing delicate veins of ice across the pane. The house itself stood warm against the icy weather, the dark wood and low light cocooning us from the cold beyond.
Right now, this house felt like a shelter in the storm—fragile, temporary, but ours. I only hoped we’d be strong enough to withstand whatever Oberon had planned for us next.