Chapter 13 Heidi
HEIDI
Istill don't know what was in that tea.
Whatever Mihalis gave me this afternoon worked like magic—which, knowing him, it probably was.
The bone-deep exhaustion that's been clawing at me vanished within minutes of drinking it, replaced by energy I haven't felt since this whole mess started.
But I caught the way his shoulders sagged afterward, how his usual commanding presence seemed diminished.
When I pressed him about it, he deflected with that infuriating arrogance of his, but I could see the shadows under his eyes.
He gave me something of himself. I know it as surely as I know my own heartbeat.
The thought makes my chest tight with emotions I don't want to name. Gratitude, yes. But underneath that, something warmer and more dangerous—the terrifying realization that someone would sacrifice their own wellbeing for mine without expecting anything in return.
I've spent my entire life learning that everything has a price. Every kindness comes with strings attached, every offer of help masks an ulterior motive. But Mihalis... gods help me, I'm starting to believe he might be different.
Which only makes the decision I have to make that much harder.
The bond isn't going away. I've been lying to myself, pretending that if I just resist long enough, it will fade into nothing more than an uncomfortable memory.
But watching myself slowly waste away these past weeks has forced me to face the truth—this thing between us is permanent.
The only question is whether I let it kill us both or do something about it.
The thought of completing the soul bond makes my skin crawl with old fears.
Being tied to someone, belonging to them in a way that can't be undone.
.. it's everything I've spent years running from.
Even knowing that Mihalis isn't like the others, that he's shown me nothing but respect and patience, I can't shake the terror that comes from giving up that last piece of control.
But then I remember the way he looked at me when I played with Irida today. Not like I was a possession or a problem to be solved, but like I was... precious. Important. Like seeing me smile mattered to him in ways that had nothing to do with magic or obligation.
A part of me—the part I've been trying to silence since the day he carried me away from Vestige—is screaming that I can trust him. That whatever this is between us, it's real enough to be worth the risk.
I just don't know how to trust that voice.
My thoughts scatter when someone knocks on my door.
The sun set hours ago, which means it's time for Vestige—and the nighttime portion of Noxalyth.
Despite everything, excitement curls in my stomach.
I've heard whispers about what happens during the "unwatched hours," and while I've never experienced it myself—even I know better than to tempt fate by going out around xaphan with no limits—the promise of chaos and freedom calls to something wild in my chest.
"Come in," I call, smoothing down the black dress Thera insisted I wear tonight. It's more revealing than anything I'd normally choose—fitted bodice, bare shoulders, skirt that ends mid-thigh—but it makes me feel powerful in a way I haven't in weeks.
Mihalis steps inside, and I have to bite back a sharp inhale.
He's dressed in all black—leather pants that cling to his muscular thighs, a shirt that's open at the collar to reveal the sun-sigil scar over his heart.
His wings are tucked close to his body, the red-tipped feathers seeming to pulse with inner heat in the lamplight.
He looks every inch the dangerous predator he is, but when his molten gold eyes sweep over me, the hunger I see there isn't threatening.
It's reverent.
"You look..." He trails off, jaw working like he's swallowing words that might be too much.
"Recovered?" I suggest, spinning once to make the skirt flare. The movement doesn't leave me dizzy or nauseous, and I can't help but grin at the simple pleasure of feeling like myself again.
"Beautiful," he says instead, the word rough with honesty. "You look beautiful."
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don't look away. "You don't look so bad yourself. Though you could use some color in your cheeks."
His mouth quirks in something that might be a smile. "I'm fine, Heidi."
"Right." I don't believe him for a second, but I also know that pushing will just make him more stubborn. "Ready to show me what all the fuss is about?"
"Vestige is the center hub for tonight's festivities," he says as we make our way downstairs. "It will be... intense. More than usual."
"Good." The word slips out before I can stop it, and his eyebrows rise. "What? I like intense. I want noise and chaos and enough stimulation to make my head spin."
"Careful what you wish for," he murmurs, but there's something almost fond in his tone.
Tonight, with the city alive, Mihalis agrees to forgo the carriage.
The walk to Vestige passes in comfortable silence, broken only by sounds of celebration echoing through the streets.
Groups of revelers move between venues, their laughter and shouts creating a symphony of controlled chaos that makes my pulse quicken with anticipation.
When we arrive, the club is already packed despite the early hour. The line outside wraps around the building, but Mihalis leads me through a side entrance that bypasses the crowd entirely. The bouncer—a massive xaphan with silver-tipped wings—bows respectfully as we pass.
"Boss. Miss."
Music pounds from speakers I can't see, the bass line vibrating through my bones in a rhythm that's primal and magnetic. The dance floor is already crowded with bodies moving in ways that would make a sailor blush, sweat gleaming on bare skin in the flickering firelight.
"Your office?" I ask, raising my voice to be heard over the din.
But I don't want his office tonight. I want this—the press of bodies, the wild music, the feeling of being alive and electric and free. After weeks of feeling like I was slowly dying, I want to celebrate being strong enough to stand.
"Actually," I say, catching his arm as he starts toward the stairs leading to the upper levels. "Can we stay down here for a while? I know you usually avoid the main floor, but tonight..."
"Tonight is different," he finishes, studying my face with those unsettling golden eyes. "You want to dance."
"I want to live," I correct. "I want to drink and move and feel like I'm not made of glass about to shatter."
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe, or approval. "The drinks here are stronger than what you're used to."
"Then we'll start slow and work our way up." I grin at him, feeling reckless in the best possible way. "Come on, Mihalis. When's the last time you actually enjoyed your own club instead of just overseeing it?"
He considers this for a long moment, and I can see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes. The responsible club owner warring with whatever part of him wants to give me what I'm asking for.
"Fine," he says finally. "But we stay together."
"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."
The bar is a work of art in itself—curved black marble shot through with veins of gold, tended by bartenders who move with practiced efficiency despite the chaos surrounding them.
Mihalis orders something I don't recognize, two small glasses filled with liquid that seems to shimmer with its own inner light.
"What is this?" I ask, accepting my glass.
"Essence of fire," he says, lifting his own. "Traditional Noxalyth drink. It's meant to..."
"To what?"
His mouth curves in a smile that's all sharp edges and dark promise. "To help you embrace your wilder impulses."
The drink burns going down but leaves a pleasant warmth in its wake, like liquid courage pooling in my stomach. Within minutes, I can feel it working—not dulling my senses but heightening them, making every sight and sound and sensation more vivid.
Including my awareness of Mihalis.
I've been trying not to notice how good he looks tonight, but the drink strips away my careful self-control. My eyes keep drifting to the strong line of his jaw, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, how his wings shift restlessly when he's trying to contain himself.
"Another?" he asks, and I nod without hesitation.
The second shot goes down easier than the first, heat spreading through my veins like molten metal. The music seems louder now, more compelling, and I can feel my body starting to move with the rhythm almost without conscious thought.
"Dance with me," I say, surprisingly nervous.
"Heidi—"
"One dance." I step closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Please?"
For a moment, I think he might say yes. His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, and I can see the conflict written across his features. But then he shakes his head, stepping back just enough to put distance between us.
"I don't dance."
"Everyone dances. You just choose not to."
"The distinction matters."
Frustration wells up in my chest, made sharper by the drink and the pulsing music and the way he's looking at me like he wants to devour me but won't let himself take a single bite.
"Fine," I say, turning toward the dance floor. "I'll find someone who will."
I don't make it three steps before a hand catches my arm. The touch is wrong immediately—too rough, too presumptuous, nothing like Mihalis's careful strength.
"Looking for a partner?" The voice belongs to a xaphan male with sandy hair and wings the color of dried blood. He's handsome enough, but there's something in his eyes that makes my skin crawl. "I'd be happy to oblige."
"Thanks, but—"
"Come on." His grip tightens, already pulling me toward the dance floor. "Don't be shy. It's Noxalyth—time to embrace the darkness."
I dig my heels in, ready to tell him exactly where he can shove his embrace, when suddenly he's not touching me anymore.
Mihalis moves like violence given form, shoving the other male away with enough force to send him stumbling backward into a group of dancers. The crowd parts around them, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, and I can see several people reaching for phones to capture whatever's about to happen.
"She's taken," Mihalis snarls, the words carrying clearly despite the music. His wings spread slightly—not fully, but enough to emphasize his size, his power, his absolute willingness to shed blood if necessary.
The other male looks ready to argue until he gets a good look at Mihalis's face. Whatever he sees there makes him raise his hands in surrender, backing away with the quick steps of someone who's just realized they've made a potentially fatal mistake.
Before I can process what just happened, Mihalis's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against his side with possessive force that sends heat racing through my veins. I can feel the tension in his body, the barely leashed violence, and instead of being frightened I find myself getting wet.
"Mine," he says, the word pitched low enough that only I can hear it. But the claim in his voice, the raw possessiveness, is unmistakable to anyone watching.
Then he's moving, cutting through the crowd with me pressed against him, heading for the stairs that lead to his office. I don't resist—can't resist, not when every cell in my body is screaming yes at the way he's holding me, protecting me, claiming me in front of an entire club full of witnesses.
He doesn't speak during the climb, but I can feel his control hanging by threads through the frayed bond between us. The possessive need radiating from him is intoxicating, making my skin feel too tight and my breath come in short pants.
We reach his office and he practically shoves me inside, slamming the door behind us before leaning against it, his back to me. His wings are spread wide now, trembling with the effort of holding himself together, and I can hear his harsh breathing in the sudden quiet.
Through that frayed bond, I feel flickers of everything he's trying to contain and I know him just well enough to make sense of it.
The raw, primitive need to mark me as his.
The fury at seeing another male touch me.
The desperate hunger that's been building between us for weeks, held back only by his iron self-control.
And underneath it all, that bone-deep possessiveness that should terrify me but instead makes me feel more desired than I've ever been in my life.
I want him. Gods help me, I want him so badly I can taste it.