Chapter 1
ONE
CADEN
My hands roamed her naked body feverishly, as if I’d fucking die if I didn’t touch every single part of her.
As if she’d vanish if I stopped. Every inch of her silk skin beneath my fingertips sent a new thrill through me, an intoxicating heat I never wanted to end.
She moaned softly, a sound so perfect, so raw, I knew in my bones I could live off it forever.
Her nipples—pink, plump, and begging for attention—hardened under my gaze.
My mouth closed around the left one, sucking deeply, letting my teeth graze the sensitive peak.
My fingers found her right nipple, twisting and rolling it between them.
Her sharp gasp turned into another moan, louder this time, and the sound ripped through me, driving me wild.
“You like that, baby?” I growled against her skin, my voice thick with need. “A little pain mixed with your pleasure?”
“Caden…” she whispered my name, breathless, pure ecstasy. The way she said it, like I was her everything, almost made me come right there.
“You’ll be screaming my name by the end of the night,” I promised, the words filled with hunger and darkness.
I crashed my lips to hers, my tongue demanding entrance, finding hers, devouring her.
The kiss was desperate, just like the fire roaring between us.
Her taste… Fuck, that taste was enough to ruin me forever.
She met my intensity with her own, her desire burning just as fiercely, and something raw, primal, deep inside me snapped.
I needed her, all of her.
More.
My hand drifted lower, slipping between her legs, and she trembled beneath me. My fingers traced her slick cunt, and I groaned at how ready she was for me.
“You’re soaked for me,” I murmured, pressing my thumb against her clit.
She bucked against my hand, moaning my name even louder. “Caden…”
“Louder,” I demanded with a dark growl. “If you want more, baby, you better scream for me.”
“Caden!” she cried out, full of need.
“That’s it, Nightcrawler,” I smirked, dipping my fingers into her wet heat, feeling her body tighten around me as I slid inside. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” I groaned, my restraint slipping. “Don’t worry, wife. I’m gonna stretch you out, get you ready to take my cock in this tight little cunt.”
I added another finger, the way she clenched around me making me lose control. I circled her clit with my thumb, her moans turning desperate, almost feral.
“Caden!” She screamed my name, exactly like I knew she would.
“Told you,” I whispered, my smirk deepening. “Told you you’d be screaming for me.”
“Caden!!”
Damn it. That wasn’t her voice.
My eyes flew open, heart pounding, pissed off as hell someone was waking me from the best fucking dream of my life.
“Caden! Get the hell out here!” Sean’s voice boomed through my door, instantly deflating my raging hard-on.
I groaned, dragging a hand over my face.
What now?
With magi coming out of the broom closet left and right these past four weeks, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d woken up without someone pounding on my door.
Only a few days ago, it had ended with me portaling to Monaco, dragging a dozen magi out of a lab right before they were sliced open for some godsdamn science experiment.
Seriously, those humans were unhinged.
“Caden!”
“I’m coming!” I shouted back at the impatient asshole, before I translated a shot of caffeine into my hands, hoping it’d hit fast enough to deal with whatever crap waited on the other side.
I threw the door open and couldn’t help my tone dripping with irritation. “What is it?”
Sean stood there, one brow raised with that all-too-knowing smirk plastered on his face. “Sorry, did I interrupt another wistful dream about Emma?”
I flipped him off while I grabbed my clothes from the floor and tried to ignore the heat rising in my face.
“I still don’t get it,” my fucker of a best friend said as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s been almost a month since she left, and ye’ve been even less charmin’ than usual. Why don’t ye just admit ye miss her and portal out to Cyclos? Go see her.”
"She’s busy patching things up with James," I snapped, yanking my shirt over my head. "You really think I want to go and fucking watch that?"
Sean winced, clearly not expecting the unfiltered anger in my words. "Ah, I didn’t mean it like that."
I sighed, walked over to him, and grabbed his shoulder in a halfhearted attempt at reassurance. "I know," I muttered. "It’s not on you. I’m the idiot who fell in love with a woman whose heart was already spoken for. Not much we can do about it now."
Sean shifted his weight before he spoke. "I’m sorry, man. I hate to see ye go through this.”
I nodded, his words settling over me like a bloody curse. The last thing I needed was to dwell on Emma right now. "So, what’s with all the pounding on my door?"
Sean’s face grew serious, and a rather familiar tension crept into the air between us. "Rocco received some news from one of our operatives in the US. And judging how much he’s spiraling, it’s not good.”
Sitting around the table with my team, I had to admit, Sean was right. It wasn’t good. And that was a big fucking understatement.
"You're telling me not only has the US closed all state borders, but they’ve actually found a maga or magus willing and powerful enough to bubble in the entire country?" My disbelief rang more than clear through the question.
We’d known the US had shut its national borders after the Great Exposure, but now locking down the individual states and bubbling the whole thing in? That was insane.
Rocco nodded, and though he was better known for bad jokes than hard truths, he was wearing none of his usual levity. "Yeah. I got a call from one of Crown’s Offensives stationed in California, through a human phoneline. Magic’s out for everyone in the whole continent."
Margaux—recruited only last week to replace Enya—flicked her raven hair out of her face. "What the hell does it even mean?"
"It means," Rocco replied, "no magi in the States can translate. They're all stuck, and they have been for the last eight days."
"No portals? No Nexus?" Margaux demanded, a note of panic in her tone.
Rocco shook his head, the weight of it all heavy in the room. "No communication possible. And if magi in Cyclos haven’t stocked up on water or food, they might run out of those as well."
I stared at Sean, my pulse pounding. "Emma?"
He shook his head once, a solemn confirmation of my worst fear.
My fists clenched under the table, tension coiling through every muscle. "How long since you last heard from her?"
My brother swallowed hard, and when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "Two weeks."
"Fuck!" I exploded, while I shot up from my chair. "We need to get them out. Now."
"How?” Jessica—our newest member, brought in to fill Kate’s position—asked quietly. “We can’t portal in or out of Cyclos."
"Then get me a fucking airplane!"
Sean's gaze hardened. "How are you going to get through the Layers without translation?"
"I’ll figure it out when I’m there."
"Caden, no," he said, standing up to face me. "Ye’ll be stuck, just like them. At least over here, ye still have yer powers."
Godsdamnit, I nearly strangled him for being right.
Breathing hard, I took a few seconds to think, a hasty plan forming in my mind.
"What’s the closest Collective to Cyclos outside the US?" I barked.
Saoirse was quick to respond despite having been silent until then—no doubt just as worried about her best friend.
"Kanata C. They’ve merged with the Canadian Human World effortlessly, and they’ve opened their doors to all magi migrants, offering sanctuary to those fleeing harsher regions.
We could head there, monitor the situation from closer by. "
"Who’s their First Offensive?" I demanded.
"Rachel Varez," Sean answered without hesitation.
"Get her on the Nexus, now!" I snapped, urgency burning through me. “And get me clearance!”
When Rachel and I first met a few years ago, back when she was still a Moderate, she didn’t shy away from making her intentions clear.
At first, I assumed it was purely physical, so I went along with it.
After all, with her Cuban roots, she was more than beautiful.
Her deep, golden-brown skin, and her thick, dark hair stood in beautiful contrast with her light-colored eyes.
She had this confident way of carrying herself, like she knew every head in the room would turn to follow her.
When it became obvious she wanted something deeper from me, something I couldn’t give, I respectfully ended things between us.
In contacting Rachel, a part of me worried our history might make her less inclined to help us now. But I was relieved to find she was not only willing, but almost eager to welcome me back into her Collective.
I’d left Sean in charge of Crown, gathered the essentials, and portaled into Kanata C by myself, exactly fifty-three minutes after finding out Emma had been off the grid for fourteen fucking days.
As the portal’s shimmer faded, I landed in what could only be described as the scenic route to godsdamn hypothermia.
How did anyone live voluntarily in this kind of blasted cold?
I started trudging through the deep snow, cursing myself I didn’t portal in a bit closer to their living quarters.
Kanata C was planted deep in a forest so thick, I could only assume someone high up had said, “What if we put a base where no one can find it? Including us.”
Nothing says strategic defense like twelve thousand identical trees and zero visibility. Towering evergreens stretched in every direction, and beyond them the Rocky Mountains loomed, their snow-capped summits piercing the gray sky.
However beautiful it was, the place still smelled of pine, wet dirt, and logistic denial.
The compound spread out beneath the snow-heavy trees, a weird mix of sleek design and backwoods charm. There were over twenty buildings, all clean lines and sharp angles, with too much glass for a place this cold.
The windows reflected the trees and the gray sky as if they were trying to blend in. Wood beams framed the structures, dark grain half-buried under snow, and chunks of stone jutted out as though someone had tried to make the place look “authentic.”
Snow covered the roofs and piled up in the narrow paths between buildings, silencing every step as if the place didn’t want to be heard.
Warm light spilled behind the glass, which was nice, if you were into the whole “cozy forest bunker” thing.
For how big it was, the place didn’t mess with the forest much.
It just sat there, quiet, like it was simply part of it.
Rachel stood waiting right beyond the clearing, her figure backlit by the soft, amber glow emanating from the Collective’s main structure.
She was dressed in Offensive attire, covered by a long, fur-lined coat, her dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, giving her an air of both command and warmth.
As I approached, I noticed how the light caught her gaze, a flicker of something—recognition, maybe even a touch of nostalgia—crossing her face.
“Welcome back,” Rachel said, sounding steady yet with an unmistakable undercurrent of curiosity.
I nodded in return. “It’s been a while.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us.
I cleared my throat, not sure how to proceed. “How have you been?”
“Good.”
Okay. Little awkward.
“Let’s uhm, let’s get you inside. Where the warmth, uhm, where it’s a warm. Well, warmer than here. In the cold, hah, obviously. You know, outside.” Watching Rachel stumble over her own words was rather fascinating. She was First Offensive for fuck’s sake.
“Rachel.” I softened my tone, letting a lower timbre carry the words. “It’s great to see you again, and I’m glad to know our friendship still stands.”
Her features softened visibly as she nodded once, then turned to lead the way to the heart of her home.
The Collective’s grounds fanned out wide, with smaller cabins and structures dotted throughout the woods, connected by cobblestone paths.
The place had an undeniable sense of order and serenity, almost peaceful despite the urgency gnawing at my insides.
A nearby lake shimmered in the evening light, reflecting the sky as if nature itself was watching over the people here.
Rachel gestured toward the main building, where I remembered most Council meetings were held. “Let’s get you settled in your old room at Arbor Hall. There’s much to discuss.”
I followed her inside, the scent of cedarwood mixing with the lingering aroma of a wood-burning fireplace. The familiarity of it all barely registered, since my mind was elsewhere, focused on Emma and on how every second was stretched too long.
As I stepped into the warm interior of Kanata C’s hotel-style Hall, my steps suddenly faltered, and a rush of adrenaline surged through me, turning my blood to fire.
There he was—seated at the long oak table like he belonged—even though it was the last place he should’ve been.
James. Fucking. Walker.