Chapter 2
Rhett
The sanctuary feels different when she’s sleeping.
Not quieter—the stone walls still hum with that gentle silver glow, and the guys are making enough noise in the main room to wake half the magical world.
But there’s something settled about the air now that Bree’s finally resting.
Like the whole place exhales when she stops carrying the weight of everything on her shoulders.
I hover in the hallway outside her door longer than I should, listening for any sign of restlessness. After everything that happened yesterday—Theo’s vision especially—I wouldn’t be surprised if she was still awake.
Silence. Deep, exhausted silence.
My hand is already on the doorknob before I realize what I’m doing. Just a quick check, I tell myself. Make sure she’s okay.
I push the door open an inch.
She’s curled on her side, breathing slow and even. Stellan’s there too—stretched out behind her, his arm draped over her—
What the hell is Stellan doing in her bed?
Heat flares up my spine. My hands clench before I can stop them. Every muscle in my body coils, ready to storm in there and drag him away from her.
The smell of heated metal cuts through my rage. I look down—the doorknob is glowing faintly under my grip, heat radiating through the brass. Before I can even let go, cool silver light flows down from the doorframe, and the metal cools beneath my palm.
The sanctuary. Keeping me from burning the place down.
I force myself to look back at her. At them.
She looks… peaceful. More peaceful than I’ve seen her in weeks.
Damn it.
I close the door, jaw tight enough to crack teeth.
She’s finally asleep. That’s what matters.
I make myself walk away, following voices toward the main room where the others have gathered.
The space has arranged itself around our presence like it’s anticipating something—comfortable seating in a loose circle, warm light glowing from fixtures that weren’t there yesterday, the faint scent of something like cedar and starlight.
Jace is already sprawled across one of the couches, a wooden board balanced on his knees loaded with what looks like half of Mairen’s kitchen. Cheese, bread, some kind of preserved fruit that gleams like jewels in the light.
“Kitchen lady priorities,” he says around a mouthful of something that makes his eyes roll back. “I swear she thinks we’re all about to waste away.”
“Maybe because you inhaled three servings at dinner and came back for more,” Theo points out from his chair. He’s got a book open in his lap, but his eyes aren’t moving across the page. Just staring at the same spot like his mind’s somewhere else entirely.
“Growing boy,” Jace says with zero shame. “Besides, carbs are a love language. This is basically a hug you can eat.”
Wes hovers near the food like he’s torn between wanting and restraint. There’s something restless in the way he moves—not the usual hunger I’ve gotten used to, but something sharper. More aware. Like his whole body’s tuned to a frequency the rest of us can’t hear.
Gray leans against the far wall, arms crossed, watching all of us with that quiet intensity of his. Not uncomfortable, just observing. Taking the temperature of the room.
And I get it. We’re all keyed up, pretending to wind down when really we’re just waiting for the next thing to go sideways. It’s been that kind of week.
Stellan hasn’t joined us yet. I try not to think about where he is.
“She’s finally asleep,” I say, settling into the chair closest to the hallway. Just in case.
“About time,” Jace mutters. “Bree looked like she was running on fumes and stubbornness.”
“Can you blame her?” Gray’s voice carries an edge. “After everything yesterday—”
“She handled it,” Theo says quietly. “Better than any of us would have.”
There’s truth in that. The way she stood in front of that crowd, called the Ether without flinching, made space and shelter for people she’d never met because they needed it—I’ve never seen anything like it.
But I also saw the way she swayed afterward. The careful way she held herself, like she was afraid of falling apart if she moved too fast.
“Still,” I say, heat flickering under my skin without my permission. “She shouldn’t have to—”
The door opens, cutting off whatever protective instinct was about to spill out of my mouth.
Thane steps inside, and something in the room’s energy shifts immediately.
It’s not obvious at first. He looks like Thane—same controlled posture, same silver eyes that see too much, same dark clothes that make him blend into shadows.
But there’s something different in the way he moves.
A looseness in his shoulders that wasn’t there yesterday.
A subtle ease that makes the dangerous edge of him seem less like a knife and more like a flame.
Fed, my brain supplies, and I don’t know why that word comes to mind.
But before I can place what’s changed, Stellan enters the room and goes completely still.
My jaw clenches the second I see him. Heat prickles under my skin—the memory of finding him in her bed flashing through my mind like a brand.
But he’s not looking at me. His focus is locked entirely on Thane, and there’s something about his stillness that makes my anger shift to unease.
Not human-still. Predator-still. The kind of motionless that means every instinct just snapped to attention.
Jace is still talking about something, gesturing with a piece of bread, but my focus narrows to Stellan’s face. The way his gray eyes track over Thane—once, quickly, then again slower. Taking inventory.
Then Stellan smiles.
It starts small, just a quirk at the corner of his mouth. But it spreads, disbelief and amusement and something that looks almost like pride mixing together until he’s grinning like he just witnessed a miracle.
“You son of a bitch.”
The words drop into the room like stones into still water. Conversation dies instantly. Theo’s book snaps shut. Wes freezes mid-reach for another piece of cheese. Gray straightens from the wall.
Stellan chuckles as he crosses the room with that too-smooth stride of his. When he reaches Thane, he claps him on the back—friendly on the surface, but there’s weight behind it. Like a test.
Thane doesn’t flinch, but something flickers across his face. Color. Actual color, rising along his sharp cheekbones like he’s—
Like he’s blushing.
Thane doesn’t blush. Ever. In the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him show that kind of reaction to anything.
“Okay,” I say, standing up because suddenly this feels like something I need to be ready for. “What the hell is going on?”
Thane’s jaw ticks. “Nothing.”
“Everything,” Stellan says at the same time, and his voice carries a note I’ve never heard before. Something between amazement and satisfaction. “Absolutely everything.”
He takes a step back from Thane, but his eyes never leave his face. Reading something there that the rest of us are missing.
“You’ve been fed,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Properly. And not just fed—”
The pause stretches, loaded with implications I can feel but don’t understand.
“Bonded.”
The word hits the room like all the air’s been sucked out.
Gray straightens completely from the wall, tension coiling through his frame. Theo’s book falls forgotten to the floor. Wes goes so still he could be carved from stone.
Jace breaks the silence first, because of course he does.
“Well, shit.”
My mind races, trying to process what Stellan’s implying. Bonding isn’t casual—not for Feeders, and definitely not with anyone magical. It’s not something that just happens by accident, not something you walk away from unchanged.
“Who?” Wes asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Thane’s jaw ticks. He doesn’t answer.
Stellan’s smirk widens. “Oh, I think you know.” His gaze flicks meaningfully toward the ceiling. “I can smell her on you. Sweet vanilla and starlight.”
Bree.
The words hit me like ice water.
Of course it’s Bree.
Gray’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “You bonded with her?” His voice is deadly quiet.
I look at Thane—really look at him—and suddenly everything makes sense. The loose shoulders, the subtle ease, the way he’s standing there like he finally found something worth fighting for.
Theo’s gone completely still in his chair.
His eyes have gone distant, unfocused, that familiar glassy look that means he’s seeing something the rest of us aren’t. His hands grip the arms of his chair, knuckles white.
Then his gaze snaps to mine, clear and certain and somehow ancient.
“It’s meant,” he says quietly.
The words land in the silence like a benediction. Or a judgment.
“What does that mean?” I ask, but my voice sounds far away.
Stellan chuckles, dark and knowing. “It means our vampire friend here just got himself permanently tethered to the most powerful magical being in existence.” His gaze flicks between Thane and the rest of us. “Congratulations. You’re all going to have to share.”
Thane doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t confirm it either. Just stands there with that faint flush still visible along his cheekbones, silver eyes daring any of us to make this a problem.
But it’s not anger I see in his expression. It’s something rawer. More vulnerable.
Like he’s waiting for us to tell him he doesn’t deserve it.
The silence stretches, heavy with questions none of us know how to ask. Above us, Bree sleeps on, unaware that the room downstairs just got turned completely upside down.
Whatever happened between them last night, it’s not nothing.
It’s going to change everything.
And I still need to figure out why the fuck Stellan was in her room this morning.