Chapter 29 Bree
Bree
The world folds like a page and I’m somewhere else.
No transition, no falling asleep. One moment I’m lying in my bed, the next I’m standing in a room made of mirrors and golden light that smells like sweat and honey.
The chamber stretches impossibly wide, each surface reflecting warmth that makes the air shimmer. This isn’t the sanctuary—definitely not anywhere I recognize. But it feels like home in a way that makes my chest tight.
“You came back.”
I turn toward the voice and see her. The woman from before. Dark hair, green eyes that actually sparkle instead of carrying all the weight mine do. She looks like me, but… better. Like someone took all my broken pieces and put them back together the right way.
Riley.
“I’ve been waiting,” she says, and even her voice sounds more confident than mine ever has. “They’re here too.”
Gray appears at my left, shoulders relaxed for once instead of tensed for the next disaster. His thumbs circle my cheek, slow as worship. “Let me keep this,” he breathes, and the word feels like a promise.
Rhett’s hand finds the small of my back, protective warmth turned intimate. “You’re mine to keep,” he says like a vow, voice low and certain in a way that makes heat pool in my stomach.
Wes moves to my right, none of that careful hunger in his eyes that makes him hold back. His palm settles over my heart. “Here. I belong here,” he says, steady as a promise, and for once his touch doesn’t make him flinch.
Jace laughs, soft and edged with ownership. “Don’t go anywhere. Not on my watch,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the line of my jaw like he’s memorizing it.
Theo steps closer, none of the guilt that’s been weighing down his words lately. “No more distance,” he says, hands anchoring me like salvation. “No more walking on eggshells.”
And Thane—God, Thane. He leans against one of the mirrors with his usual elegant composure, but there’s no coldness in his silver eyes. His gaze is hungry and soft at the same time, watching me like I’m something worth keeping instead of something that might break his careful control.
Even Stellan is here, and his touch barely brushes my shoulder, but there’s approval in the stillness. That polite distance he always maintains has melted into something warmer, more present.
This is what I’ve been craving. What I’ve been missing since everything went to hell. To be cherished instead of managed, claimed instead of protected from afar.
Riley watches from beside one of the mirrors, smiling like she knows a secret. “This is how it should be,” she says softly. “This is what you deserve.”
Gray’s grip on my face becomes firmer, more possessive. “No more secrets,” he promises, and the relief that floods through me is so intense it’s almost painful.
Rhett pulls me back against his chest, and I can feel the heat radiating from him like being wrapped in fire. “All ours,” he murmurs against my ear, voice rough with want.
Thane pushes off from the mirror, moving with that predatory grace he has. “Mine to protect,” he says, voice carrying that dangerous edge I’ve learned to crave. “Mine to feed from. Mine to keep safe.”
Stellan’s fingers tangle in my hair, touch light but possessive. “You don’t need anyone else,” he whispers, breath warm against my neck. “We’re enough. We’re everything.”
The golden warmth wraps around me, but it’s more intense now. Heavier. Like being claimed by all of them at once, and I want to drown in it.
But Riley’s reflection starts to waver, and she’s smiling wider now. “You could have him too,” she says, voice growing distant but pleased. “Why settle for just them?”
The golden light fractures, pulling Riley into darkness that swallows her whole. The guys fade with her, but not before I see something flicker in their eyes—a hunger that goes deeper than want, darker than love.
Then I’m alone in the dark, but it’s not empty.
It’s full of him.
He steps out of the dark like a sin I’ve been rehearsing for.
“Hello, little queen.”
The voice slides through me like warm honey, and I know exactly who he is. The sound of it is carved into my bones, whispered in my dreams, threaded through every moment I’ve reached for more than I was offered.
“Ethos,” I breathe, and saying his name feels like coming home.
Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Dark hair that catches light that doesn’t exist, pale skin that seems to glow from within. When he looks at me, those silver-black eyes hold recognition, like he’s been watching me my whole life.
“You have been calling,” he says, moving closer. Not an accusation—a certainty. Like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
“I haven’t—”
“Haven’t you?” His fingers brush my wrist, and silver chains shimmer into existence.
Not rough metal, but something that looks like captured moonlight and cool against my skin.
“Every time you take what you want instead of waiting to be given scraps. Every time you demand instead of asking. You’ve been becoming who you were meant to, becoming mine. ”
The chains feel like silk, beautiful and binding. “This is what you crave,” he says, voice dropping to that intimate tone that makes my skin burn. “Not their careful touches, their held-back hunger. You want to be consumed.”
His lips brush my throat, and I gasp as more chains appear, winding around my ankles, my waist. Each one sends pleasure shooting through me, dark and addictive.
“Surrender is not loss,” he murmurs against my neck. “It is choosing who holds you.”
I want to argue, but his touch is setting me on fire. The chains tighten in rhythm with his movements, and I realize they’re not just restraining me—they’re bringing us together, closer than I’ve ever been with anyone.
“Give me your light,” he whispers as my Ether flows between us in steady pulses. With each one, he grows more solid, more present, more real.
“That’s it,” he encourages, voice rough with hunger. “Give me what you want me to take.”
The Ether weaves between us like silk, and instead of feeling drained, I feel… connected. Like every pulse of power that passes between us proves how much we need each other.
“You were made for this—bright, burning, given wholly,” he murmurs against my lips. The kiss is everything—demanding, sure, unafraid. When his teeth graze my bottom lip, I gasp, and more silver light weaves between us.
The chains pull tighter, drawing more Ether, and the pleasure blurs with something darker. Something that makes the golden warmth from before feel pale and empty.
“More,” I hear myself whisper, and I’m not sure if I mean his touch or the strange sensations or both.
He smiles against my throat, fangs scraping skin. “Mine,” he breathes. Not a want, a fact. “You were made to be taken.”
The chains are bright now, fed by the energy flowing between us until they’re almost too beautiful to look at. And with every pulse that connects us, I feel more wanted, more needed, more whole than I ever have.
But something shifts. The pleasure frays at the edges—too sharp, too fast. The chains tighten like they’ve stopped listening to me, pulling harder than I meant them to.
“More,” I hear myself whisper again, but my voice sounds strange. Distant.
He smiles against my throat, fangs grazing skin. “There you are,” he croons, and the certainty in his voice should feel like safety. Instead, my chest flutters with something unfamiliar.
The mirrors catch my face—but the eyes staring back aren’t mine. Too bright. Too silver. A stranger wearing my smile.
“Perfect,” he says, voice soft as silk, and it sounds less like accusation and more like destiny.
But destiny feels heavier than I expected.
The chains pulse again, drawing more Ether, and this time the sensation makes me gasp. Not entirely from pleasure. A hollowness grows with each pull, spreading through my chest like cold water.
“That’s enough,” I whisper, but the words feel weak.
He doesn’t stop. His touch becomes more insistent, more possessive. “Don’t think,” he murmurs. “Just feel. Just give.”
The chamber around us tilts, and in the mirrors I catch glimpses of myself—pale, drained, while silver light mixed with black flows from me in streams that hurt and please at the same time.
My reflection smiles back at me with eyes that aren’t quite mine anymore.
“Something’s wrong,” I whisper, though even as the words slip free I can’t explain them. Everything feels perfect—too perfect—so why does my chest feel tight, like I’m already drowning?
“Nothing is wrong,” he says gently, thumb stroking over my cheek. “This is exactly what you wanted.”
And it is. Isn’t it?
The thought should comfort me, but it doesn’t.
The chains pulse one more time, harder, and my scream tears through whatever space we’re in.
I jolt awake gasping, sheets soaked with sweat. My wrists ache like they’re still bound, and I can taste copper and something older than grief in my mouth.My hands won’t stop shaking. My chest feels too tight, my breath too shallow.
It was good. It was everything I wanted.
So why does my body feel like it just survived something terrible?
Footsteps thunder down the hallway. My door crashes open, and they pour in.
“Bree,” Theo breathes, reaching for me first, fingers hovering before he settles his hand on my shoulder. “You’re here. You’re safe,” he says, voice thick with relief, and I can see the fear that’s been eating at him.
Rhett moves to my other side, scanning me for injuries. “What happened? You screamed.”
Gray appears at the foot of my bed, sharp eyes taking in my shaking hands, the sweat-soaked sheets. “Talk to me,” he says, steady despite the concern written across his face. “Are you okay?”
“Nightmare,” Jace says, but there’s no dismissal in his voice. Just worry. “Must have been a hell of one.”
Wes hovers near the door, dark eyes tracking the black mist still curling around me. His expression is careful, like he’s trying not to crowd me but doesn’t want to leave either.
Thane appears in the doorway behind them, silver eyes sharp and assessing. Stellan follows, quiet and watchful.
They’re all here. All worried. All looking at me like I matter, like my pain matters.
But they don’t feel like Riley’s men. Don’t move with that possessive certainty, that unquestioning adoration. They’re careful with me. Gentle. Like they’re afraid of pushing too hard.
Like they think I might break.
I try to speak, to explain, but all that comes out is a whisper that feels torn from my chest:
“Ethos.”
The name hangs in the air, foreign and heavy. I watch their faces change—confusion replacing concern.
Stellan goes completely still. “Where did you hear that name?” His voice is carefully controlled, but I catch the edge underneath.
“Who’s Ethos?” Gray asks quietly.
Thane steps into the room, recognition flickering in his silver eyes. “The voice,” he says slowly. “From the Void. That was his name?”
I nod, unable to find words.
“What voice?” Rhett demands, looking between us with growing alarm.
“There was something else there with us,” Thane explains, his voice carefully controlled even as his silver eyes track Stellan’s reaction. “Something that spoke. Tried to…” He stops, jaw tightening as he looks at me. “Something that wants her.”
Stellan’s face drains of color and he takes a sharp step back, like the words themselves are a physical blow. “No,” he breathes, voice raw with something that might be terror. “Not her. He can’t—” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair with shaking fingers.
But I can’t answer. Can’t explain how it felt more real than the room around me, or how part of me is already missing the certainty of those chains.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with dread and the lingering feeling of something dark.
And all I can think about is him.