Chapter 22
ALIC
What the hell is taking them so long?
I’d already paced the hallway twice, checking for any other point of entry. You never knew with supes; some could phase through walls, while others shimmered into existence without a sound. I’d seen it. You couldn’t assume you were safe just because a door was shut.
That was what was driving me mad. That door. With Aniyah just behind it, out of my line of sight, anything could be happening, and I’d be the last to know.
Then there was Rasmus.
Yeah, I’d met the guy a few times. Never paid him much mind as long as the computers and security system worked, but ever since he stepped into that room, my brain was playing the same damn question on repeat. How the fuck did he know about the bomb?
Everything in me was screaming to watch him closely. Out of everyone in there, he was the dangerous one, but when I actually looked at him, sized him up, I knew I could take him down in a heartbeat. So, why did he set off every internal alarm I had?
That voice in my head, the one that wore my failures like medals, started its poisonous whispers again.
Maybe it’s because he mentioned her.
Rotten memories crawled into my mind, sickening and slow. Mia’s soft, warm laugh rattled around my skull like it had nowhere else to go. The snide fairy council’s voices followed, always there to remind me I was never enough. Placed by her side to fail. Never wanted.
That seemed to be an inescapable theme of my life.
My fairy mother didn’t even look at me after I was born, just handed me off and disappeared.
I was her one-night mistake with a troll she’d probably glamoured herself to forget.
And the trolls? They didn’t want me either.
I looked too much like them—bright-colored eyes, delicate features, and smooth speech patterns.
I was too fairy to be a troll, too troll to be fairy.
When the Faerie realm collapsed, I’d hoped things might be different here—a new world, a new start—but as soon as we crossed over, the old patterns followed like shadows.
The fairies hoarded the realm’s wealth, leaving scraps for the rest of the creatures from Faerie.
Humans flinched when they saw us. Jobs dried up. Doors slammed shut.
That was when I found the Syndicate.
They didn’t care what you looked like or where you came from. They didn’t care that I’d been guarding a disgraced princess who ended up dead while I was a few doors down, drinking, bitching about her. That I’d spent that night cursing her, blaming her for everything I hadn’t achieved.
Mia.
She wasn’t like the others. She’d seen what was coming and tried to warn the other royals that only one of them would survive, that a new kind of royalty would rise, one made of mixed bloodlines and broken castes.
They called her mad and locked her away.
She drowned herself in fairy wine to silence the visions.
And I—I cursed her name and spat her worth into the dirt. I thought if she was gone, they'd finally see me. Give me a real assignment and a chance to prove my worth.
After she was murdered, all I was left with was regret and self-loathing.
The Syndicate gave me purpose, and Syris gave me a way out.
Under the Rossey clan, I proved myself. Over and over.
I was a monster in the eyes of the civilian world—pistachio skin, slitted yellow eyes, scars that wouldn’t fade—but I earned the Syndicate’s trust with sweat and blood.
So, when Nova assigned me to guard her sister and head up the security at the Winged Palace, I saw it as a second chance.
A chance to redeem the sins I couldn’t wash off.
Then I met Aniyah.
I knew she’d be smart. You couldn’t run Glovefox’s empire if you weren’t, but I wasn’t prepared for the fire, the sass, the way her mouth curved around insults that somehow sounded like promises.
I hadn’t expected just how gorgeous she would be.
I tried to stay focused on routes, exits, weapons, but the moment she left the room, all I could think about was her, bent over, moaning, begging.
Her tight little body wrapped around mine. That wicked mouth full of my cock.
She invaded everything. My mornings. My nights. My every goddamn breath.
That all changed the night I saw her with Van.
The desire. The ache. The disgusting, all-consuming hunger I had for her.
I stuffed it into the darkest corners of myself like a rabid thing I had to cage, locking it behind the cold steel bars of duty and discipline.
I told myself it didn’t matter who she fucked.
That it wasn’t my place. Not with someone like me.
I wasn’t born to be loved or even desired.
That was for the Vans of the world, the beautiful ones who fit in, who could stand beside her without looking like they’d been carved from a warzone.
Those old voices came roaring back. You’ll never be enough. Never were. Never will be. No one will love you.
Those voices were right.
So, I built my walls higher and reinforced them with routine. Surveillance. Planning. Strategy. I told myself this was what mattered—protecting her.
Not touching her. Not claiming her. Not fucking her senseless like I fantasized every single goddamn night. No. Protection was the point. That was my connection to her. The only one I was allowed to have.
I clung to that connection like it was the only thing tethering me to sanity.
I tried to keep my distance, to be the guard. The brute. The impenetrable wall… until my sanity left my body, and I hunted her down, taking her like she’d always been mine.
Shaking off the ghosts of the past, I pressed my ear to the wall, then the door, straining for any sound, any whisper that might justify how long this was taking. What the hell are they doing in there? This was supposed to be a quick stop. Grab the gear. Head back to her place. Nothing complicated.
The silence was too perfect, or was that all in my head? While my senses were going crazy, I still hadn’t heard anything that was concerning.
I tried to brush it off, to rationalize everything that I knew about this demon. He was vetted. Boss Calix doesn’t make mistakes like that. Maybe he lives close by because he’s always on call. Maybe he takes the equipment home to avoid disturbing the guests.
Then there was the worst excuse of all. Aniyah seems to trust him.
That one made something coil in my gut like a burning rope pulled too tight. She trusted him… and I hated how much that mattered.
He wasn’t the only one sniffing around her anymore. They were all coming out of the woodwork, throwing the word mate around like it gave them license to claim her. Like she was something to win. To fuck. To own.
Starved fucking wolves that wanted to take a piece of her.
And me? I was just the goddamn wall keeping them from tearing her apart, and in a world where mates were everything, where the pull of that bond was sacred, binding, unshakable… where the fuck does that leave me?
The pain bloomed behind my ribs, bright and biting. I’d just started getting used to the rhythm of our lives, the quiet moments between her chaos and my duty. I'd just begun to breathe again after surviving the fight I didn’t ever want to repeat. So, why the fuck couldn’t things just stay the same?
Then I saw it.
A shimmer across the door. Soft, subtle but unmistakable. Magic.
My heart seized. My jaw locked so hard I thought I heard a crack. That son of a bitch had spelled the door, and not just locked it, but sealed it. Made it soundproof.
My fury snapped, and I detonated from the inside out.
Neck rolled, muscles twitching, my skin already beginning to harden. Stone crept across my body—my armor—as I pulled the power from deep inside my core, feeding it into every inch of me. I didn’t care what kind of game Rasmus was playing. I didn’t care how fucking vetted he was.
He’d locked her in. Alone. With him, behind a spelled door. He hid her from me.
He knew what he was doing.
He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing.
With a roar burning in my throat, I charged the door and smashed through it, sending splinters flying like shrapnel.
I would not fail her. I didn’t give a shit if she had one mate or a million.
I didn’t care if the entire pantheon of gods came down and claimed her as theirs. She was mine to protect.
Stalking the empty foyer to the vacant TV room, I seethed with each step I took without her in my arms.
Then I heard it. A breathless cry. Her cry.
My instincts surged, leaving no thought in my head except one. Find Aniyah. Save Aniyah.
I tore around the corner, ready to kill. Ready to rip the demon limb from limb. And then I saw her.
Naked from the waist up, Aniyah rode Rasmus’ face like she was born to break men.
Her body glistened with sweat, flushed and glowing, hips moving in that slow, deliberate rhythm that told me she was close, so fucking close.
Her head tipped back, a soft cry curling from her lips like music I wasn’t meant to hear.
Her spine arched, delicate and strong, her breasts heaving with each breath, her fingers tugging at her nipple as her mouth fell open in a moan that hit me like a goddamn prayer.
His fingers carved into her ass, lifting up the small skirt, drowning in her like I had dreamed of.
The fury that had been tearing through me only seconds ago dissolved into ash, swept away by the storm of her.
I forgot Rasmus. Forgot the door. Forgot who I was or what I was doing.
All I could see—all I could feel—was her.
The way her hair stuck to her neck, the little shiver that ran through her thighs, the way she said his name like it tasted good on her tongue.
Then she moaned, "Fuck. Ras. I’m coming. Drink it down… like you promised… my good little stalker."
That was when I noticed the wall behind her.