2. CHAPTER 2
CILLIAN
Misha shook me from behind, hands gripping my shoulders. “You walked straight across the nave during initiation, moved an Aster boy out of his own seat, stroked your fingers through Moon Hyun-seo’s hair, and whispered in his ear while every masked fuck upstairs watched.”
He jumped over the pew and sat down next to me. The side aisle was colder now that the crowd had thinned. Rain still hammered the high windows.
“Sounds strategic.” I shrugged.
“Sounds like you’re one bad decision away from writing his name on your ribs.”
“Wasn’t that serious.” The corner of my mouth curved, anyway.
Misha pushed to his feet, pacing between the pews. “Half the gallery saw you eye-fuck an Aster prince in front of God.”
“Wasn’t eye-fucking,” I said, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Was appreciating what’s already fucking mine.”
Sawyer Whitlock shoved himself between us and took Moon from me. So yeah. I was going to break his fucking shoulder for it.
The cathedral doors opened behind us. Misha turned first. I didn’t. I already knew who it was.
Aleksei Lovchy. Black coat buttoned tight to his throat, light hair swept back, pale eyes sweeping the room once. High cheekbones. Clean jaw. Mouth pressed into a flat line.
Same Lovchy blood as his twin. Nothing else in common.
Where Misha bounced through life like trouble looking for a good time, Aleksei looked like the consequence that showed up later to collect. He didn’t scan the crowd. He checked each person one by one. I stayed sprawled in the pew.
I watched Moon go and wondered how far he really thought he could run. Dark hair. Sharp cheekbones. The silver in his ears caught the light every time he turned his head. Open black shirt under the tan suit.
Fuck. Still hot. Still mine.
He wouldn’t get far. Not from me. Not after the way he’d looked at me in Saint Lucia, lips parted like he was terrified of how badly he wanted it.
“There you are,” Aleksei said.
Misha spread his arms wide. “Missed me, brother?”
Aleksei’s eyes cut straight to me. “Do I want to know why my twin brother is unsupervised with you, Ashbourne?”
Misha pointed at me like Exhibit A. “Cillian found religion.”
“No,” I said. “I’m appreciating craftsmanship.”
Aleksei pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Of course.”
“He means Moon,” Misha continued, far too helpful.
“I know what he means.”
“He was appreciating him.” Misha grinned wider. “With his eyes.”
“Misha.”
“And his thigh.”
Aleksei opened his eyes slowly. “No one in this Court understands discretion,” Aleksei said.
“I do,” Misha protested.
“You tried to bribe an MGIMO dean with stolen cognac and a wolf’s tooth.”
Misha pulled out his butterfly knife and started flipping it absently between his fingers. “First, it was excellent cognac.”
“It was stolen.”
“From family.”
I laughed despite myself.
Aleksei’s stare snapped to me.
I stopped. Immediately.
“Thorn used to make men piss themselves,” Aleksei said. “Grandfather still talks about this Court like it was held by men who knew their place and made sure everyone else learned theirs. Now half the academy thinks we’re a bunch of bored rich kids waving steel around.”
Misha froze, then quickly hid the knife behind his back. “That’s unfair.”
Aleksei’s pale eyes flicked over him, unimpressed.
“Mostly unfair.”
Aleksei’s voice hushed. “There is a Blood Writ on the table.”
That got my attention.
“Already?”
“Opening night,” he said. “Everyone wants leverage before the first tally.”
“Beautiful tradition,” Misha cut in.
Aleksei folded his hands behind his back.
“Sawyer Whitlock fed us Aster-side dirt. The Whitlocks are notorious for their games. My guys found something interesting… In case he’s feeding us exactly what he wants us to hear.”
Sawyer. Interesting.
Aleksei’s expression changed. Not for the better.
I already knew I was going to hate whatever the fuck came out of his mouth next.
“Target is Aster’s likely Patronage Seat candidate.”
Moon. Of course it was fucking Moon.
Each Court put forward one heir for the Patronage Seat. Win it and, I dunno, you were basically fucking student president or some shit.
Suited Moonshine to a T.
Aleksei met my eyes. “Whether Moon’s part of it or simply standing too close to Whitlock, it doesn’t matter. We treat him as leverage either way.”
Heat coiled in my gut. My cock twitched at the mere mention of his name. Wrong fucking time. Wrong fucking place. Didn’t matter. He was already under my skin.
But now they wanted to make him a target. Pretty fucking terrible luck for him. He still thought he got a choice. I wanted every version of him. I’d take all of it eventually. Sawyer Whitlock wanted him hit without dirtying his own hands. Smart. Cowardly. So fucking Aster.
I rolled my shoulders once, already impatient to move.
They could plan whatever they wanted. Anyone who touched him was going to lose a hand. After that, consequences were their own problem. And when the time came, I was going to enjoy every second of watching him stop fighting what was already mine.
“The objective is not injury,” Aleksei said. “Not spectacle. Not whatever romantic shit you’re planning. Moon is Aster’s Seat. If he stays calm, Aster gains ground. If he reacts, their perfect candidate becomes manageable. Turn their golden boy into a liability.”
“Sawyer wants him out,” I said.
“Sawyer wants him weak,” Aleksei said. “There’s a difference. He won’t go after Moon openly. Too much Aster Favor to lose.”
Misha whistled low. “Pretty boy politics.”
Rain hammered the stone outside.
“Why tell me?”
Aleksei’s expression didn’t change. That was answer enough.
“Because you already have access.”
“I annoyed him in public.”
“You made him react in public.”
“Barely.”
“Barely is enough when the entire gallery is trained to count every twitch.”
Every twitch.
Misha leaned in. “Especially the hair grip.”
“Misha.”
“What? I’m helping.”
Aleksei ignored him. “You crossed the nave, displaced an Aster Patronage candidate, sat close enough that Sawyer Whitlock intervened, and Moon did not remove you.”
My smile thinned.
“That is access,” Aleksei said. “Exploit it.”
A Blood Writ wasn’t gossip. It was authorization to ruin someone. Usually the kind of thing I did best.
Tonight, it sat wrong.
Not because of Moon.
Because Sawyer had handed him over like a tool and expected me to break him on command. Aster never threw the first punch. They made someone else do it. Poor Sawyer. He picked the wrong hands.
“You take the Writ for Thorn. For Favor. For the Chalice. Nothing else.”
“Obviously.”
Misha beamed. “See? Now I don’t believe you.”
I ignored him.
“Grandfather wants Thorn feared again. Not treated like a joke. Feared. We make everyone wonder why Moon keeps looking at Thorn.”
Aleksei struck a match and lit his cigarette, not looking away.
“You accept or not?”
Moon cracked. I wanted to see it again. And now nothing was stopping me. Those tipsy, conflicted eyes in Saint Lucia. He needed convincing. I wasn’t about to waste a single second of it.
“Give me the Writ.”
Misha clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s my boy.”
I stood before he could finish.
The Writ gave me every excuse I needed. Sawyer thought he’d handed me a knife. Cute. Practical. Thorn needed Favor. Aleksei needed the seat weakened. The Writ gave me both.
And the only person I wanted under it was the same one I already planned to keep. I’d use every inch of it until there was nowhere left for him to run that wasn’t already mine.