Rhain eyed me as if he expected me to run out of Nyktos’s office at any given second and into the middle of a firestorm. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me longer than it took to blink. Ector, on the other hand, was sprawled across the settee, eyes closed and quite possibly napping.

“It would calm my nerves if you sat,” Rhain advised with a tilt of his golden-red head. “Instead of pacing.”

“Pacing calms my nerves.” I made another pass in front of Nyktos’s desk. “And trust me when I say you’d prefer me to have calm nerves versus the opposite.”

“You’re probably right.” Rhain inclined his head. His eyes appeared more gold than brown as they tracked me in the glow of the wall sconces. “But trusting you…”

I muttered a curse. Bad word choice on my part. I kept pacing, even faster now, the skin on the back of my neck tight. Nyktos’s speech obviously hadn’t had that much of an impact on Rhain, and that left me a little sad. Rhain had been all smiles before, less guarded and friendly.

“You should trust her,” Ector chimed in. His eyes were still closed, but apparently, he hadn’t been sleeping. “Besides what she tried last night for us

—for all of us—that Cimmerian was gunning for you. She saved your ass out there. If she hadn’t hit him right between the eyes, you might be standing here with a couple of extra holes in you. Or not standing at all. The least you can do is thank her.”

“I don’t need his gratitude,” I said before Rhain could say something that would likely irritate me further.

“Well, you have mine.” Ector opened his deep amber eyes. “And mine,” Rhain grumbled. “Thank you.”

I snorted.

“That sounded as if it pained you.” Ector shot him a look I couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“It did. A little.” A muscle ticked along his jaw as he glanced at Ector. “What? Why are you looking at me like I’m being an ass?”

I arched a brow, for once keeping my mouth shut.

“Maybe because you’re being an ass,” Ector responded. “To the person who had your back out there. Who has had all our backs. Who also carries the embers—”

“I think he gets the point,” I interrupted. Ector’s defense surprised me, even with Nyktos’s speech. I’d had no idea where I stood with him. Then again, I hadn’t known before. Ector was an…odd one, joking one moment and somber the next. He was also far older than Nyktos, having known Eythos and Mycella fairly well, which I guessed played a role in why Nyktos had sent him to watch over me while I’d been in the mortal realm, along with the godling, Lathan.

“You’re coming at me?” Rhain demanded, taken aback. “In her defense? She plans—”

“Planned,” I interrupted. “Pretty sure we already covered this.”

“Does your change of heart erase the intentions that came before that?” Rhain challenged. “Does running off to get yourself killed somehow change it?”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“It doesn’t. No matter what you supposedly planned to do about Kolis or what embers you carry.” Rhain unfolded his arms and stepped forward. Ector sat up, alert. “You’re not the true Primal of Life. You’re a foster to the embers, and none of that makes up for plotting against Nyktos, no matter your reasons,” he said, and my face began to sting. “You have no idea what Nyktos has had to give up. What he’s been through. What he’s sacrificed for you, and then for you—”

“Rhain,” Ector warned.

I stopped pacing. “What has he sacrificed for me?”

“Other than his sense of security in his own home?” Rhain spat. “Other than that,” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Ector said, rising. “Rhain is just being overdramatic. He’s prone to being so.”

My eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“It comes from a good place,” Ector reasoned, going to Rhain’s side. He placed a hand on the god’s shoulder. “She’s not the enemy at the end of

the day. You should know that. But if you don’t, all you have to do is go back out onto the Rise and look at the lives lost.”

Rhain looked away as the annoying embers suddenly came alive, wiggling like a puppy greeting its owner. They might be happy for Nyktos’s eminent arrival. I, however, wasn’t.

The doors flew open, stopping midway as if invisible servants had caught them before they slammed into the walls. A ripple of icy-hot energy tore into the office first, tickling my skin.

“Daddy Nyktos is not happy,” Ector murmured. No, he was not.

“At least it’s not in response to something we did.” Rhain looked pointedly in my direction with a raise of his brows.

“This time,” Ector added.

Nervous energy buzzed through me as Nyktos blew into the office with the force of a storm. Swirling, silver orbs locked on me as he crossed the room, unsheathing his swords.

“Did I not tell you to remain inside?” Nyktos stopped in front of me, slamming the swords down on the desk behind me. “To not push me on that?”

“You did.”

His chin dipped. “And yet you did exactly what I asked you not to do and went out onto the Rise, risking not only your life but also Saion’s.”

“You didn’t ask that of me. You demanded that of me.” “Same thing.”

“It absolutely is not the same thing, and how did I risk Saion’s life? He chose to follow me—”

“He had no choice in the matter, as he was tasked with keeping you inside,” he said. Over his shoulder, I saw Rhain and Ector steadily slinking toward the doors. “He’s lucky I’m not in the habit of punishing another for someone else’s misdeeds.”

Frustration rose, joining the anxious hum. “The only one committing misdeeds at this moment is you.”

Nyktos’s brows flew up. “I cannot wait to hear your rationale on this. I’m sure it involves something along the lines of: I do what I want because I can and fuck the consequences.”

Right then, something shifted from deep within that crack. Something absolute. I didn’t reach for the veil of nothingness as a raw, volatile mix of

anger and determination pounded through me. “From the moment I learned that I no longer had to answer to a duty I never had a choice in accepting, I became my own person. Someone who gets to make their own choices. I will not be ordered about and told what I can and cannot do as if I have no power or control over my life, no matter what risks I may be taking. I am done living like that.”

Nyktos withdrew, taking several steps back. The wisps of eather slowed in his eyes, evoking a small change in the cold set of his features. A tense silence followed until he said, “One of you please retrieve a bowl of clean water and a cloth for me. The other needs to leave.”

“You know, I think I’ll get that stuff for you and then make myself… scarce.” Rhain backed up, grabbing Ector’s arm. “Come, be scarce with me.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Ector pivoted. “He’s got the scary face again.”

He kind of did.

Nyktos waited until we were alone. “Someone has to worry about something happening to you since you don’t. You never do.” Nyktos took a measured step forward. “You want to make choices no matter the risks? The problem with that is you don’t ever think about those risks. Or the consequences.”

“That is not—” I sucked in a sharp breath. Nyktos was suddenly standing no more than a foot from me. “Can you not do that?”

“Why?” He stared down at me, the wisps of eather growing brighter in his eyes again. “Don’t tell me it scares you.”

“It doesn’t scare me. It just annoys me.”

His lips twisted into a tight smile. “Of course, not. You don’t have the instinct that warns most when they’re in grave danger.”

“Not true.” I started to cross my arms, but the tug on the wound along my waist stopped me. “My instincts work completely fine. Earlier they warned me that you’d be angry with my decision to go out onto the Rise.”

His eyes narrowed into thin, glowing slits. “Have you ever tried, oh, I don’t know? Listening to it? Valuing your life?”

“I’ve never really had the opportunity to do so, now, have I?” I snapped.

Nyktos went completely still, all except his eyes. A long moment passed, and I wished I had his ability to read emotions, to gain some sort of

insight into what he was feeling or thinking. He turned then, walking stiffly to the credenza and picking up a crystal decanter full of amber liquid. “I know I said this before, but I mean no offense when I say you don’t value your life,” he said, pouring a glass, stopping, and then pouring a second. “It’s truly not meant to be an insult.”

I snorted. “Sure sounds like one when you say it.” “Then I apologize. I’m sorry.”

My head jerked. “You’re seriously apologizing to me?”

He came back to me, offering me a glass. “You don’t think you deserve one?”

“Uh…” I thought about that as I took the drink, unsure if I did or not. I shrugged.

His lips curled faintly. “Well, you have it anyway.” He downed the whiskey in one swallow. “I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” I took a little less-impressive gulp, but half of the whiskey was gone when I lowered my glass.

He sat his glass behind one of his swords, dragging the edge of his fangs over his lower lip. “How you’ve become who you are.”

The whiskey hit my chest and then my stomach in a warm rush. “I’m not really following what you’re asking.”

“Most wouldn’t attempt to seduce and kill the Primal of Death. Not even if it was a duty drilled into them from birth. Not even for their kingdom. Then turn around and plan to do the same thing to another Primal. I wouldn’t even say it would be a lack of courage on their part.”

“Just a lack of common sense on mine?” I retorted. That damn eyebrow rose again. “You said it.”

I took another drink before I threw the glass at his face. “My kingdom is dying. I believed—we all believed—it was due to the deal King Roderick made. What was I supposed to do?”

“Literally anything else.”

My fingers tightened on the glass. “Like what, All-Knowing One? Ask you to stop the Rot? Why would that have even crossed my mind when we believed the Rot was due to the deal expiring, and not something you were doing? We didn’t even know who Kolis truly was.” Or even who and what I was. But gods knew I wasn’t going there right now. “So, what should I have done? Summoned a god or Primal again and tried to make another deal?

Kicked the can down the road for someone else to deal with? Live my kind of life?” I laughed harshly. “Or just do nothing and let my kingdom die?”

“And what kind of life did you really live?” he asked quietly.

The heat returned, sweeping through my chest, and it had very little to do with the whiskey. I set the glass on the desk. Rhain returned then with the items Nyktos had requested. Sending me a sharp look, he quietly placed the bowl and towel on the desk beside the swords. He quickly left, closing the doors behind him.

But what the god had said before Nyktos arrived remained with me. “What have you sacrificed for me?”

Nyktos’s eyes lifted to mine. “What has one of my guards said?” “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“That’s not an answer.” My heart thumped heavily.

“It’s because I haven’t sacrificed anything,” he said, and I wasn’t sure I believed him. “Lift your sweater.”

I blinked, wondering if the whiskey had gotten to me that quickly. “Excuse me?”

“You were wounded. I want to see how bad it is.” “It’s not—”

“Lift your sweater and allow me to check your injury, Sera.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”

I hesitated, only because he’d asked this time. And only because he’d said please, and that was still a weakness of mine.

Nyktos briefly closed his eyes. “I don’t think you’re wounded enough that you’ll need blood, so you don’t have to worry about me taking advantage of you.”

The fact that I felt even the tiniest bit of disappointment at hearing that told me I needed a hefty dose of whatever Nyktos had just insinuated I lacked. Common sense.

Thick lashes lifted. Silver eyes lit softly from behind pierced mine. Knowing my luck, this was probably one of those moments where he was either intentionally or unintentionally reading my emotions. He would’ve felt the disappointment, and I didn’t even want to know what he thought—if he saw me as someone so desperate for affection that I would seek it from someone who didn’t even want friendship from me.

And that would be accurate on some level. My entire life lacked not only touch but also affection. I did crave it, but I wasn’t desperate enough to take whatever meager scraps were offered to me by anyone.

I just wanted his affection because I thought I’d had a taste of it before he learned the truth. He’d wanted me then, to the point of distraction, but I thought he had also been fond of me. That he cared. Now, there was only a physical desire, one that he’d likely deny to his very last breath.

Then what he said struck me. “Wait. Do you think you took advantage of me after you gave me your blood?”

“I knew what my blood would do to you. I should’ve been able to restrain myself or left you alone the moment you started feeling the effects.”

I stared at him. “My reaction had very little to do with your blood.” “Sera.”

“And everything to do with my attraction to you. I told you that then. It hasn’t changed.”

His jaw flexed. “Even so, I should’ve been able to control myself instead of becoming a man with no control over his body.”

I laughed. “You are not only a man.”

“Just because I’m a Primal doesn’t mean my body responds differently.”

“I didn’t realize that Primals—or men in general—had such little control over their cocks,” I snapped, annoyed that he would excuse his reaction, his pleasure, as something he had no control over.

“That’s not what I—never mind.” His eyes flared bright briefly. “Let me see your wound.”

“Whatever.” I grabbed the hem and the slip underneath, lifting them to my ribs. “It’s not bad. See?” I looked down, cringing slightly at the thin gash running along the left side of my waist. “Just a flesh wound.”

“There’s no such thing as a flesh wound.”

I started to lower my sweater, but Nyktos palmed my hips. The contact startled me enough that I didn’t protest as he lifted me onto the desk. His hands lingered there. The reminder of his strength was always a surprise. It made me feel incredibly dainty, and I was not even in the same realm as dainty. No part of me wasn’t, as Tavius had once said, plump.

Fucking gross bastard.

Gods, I almost wished he was still alive so I could shove something harder than a whip down his throat.

Nyktos’s eyes lifted to mine. “You’re projecting again.”

“Sorry,” I muttered as he reached for the cloth. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I’m doing it because I want to.”

He’d said that before. And my reckless heart leapt, just like then. He pressed his fingers to the skin beneath the wound, the touch gentle and yet another shock. I jolted.

“Sorry.” He withdrew his hand. “I didn’t mean to cause pain.”

“You didn’t. It’s just…I wish your touch was warm again,” I said, which wasn’t entirely untrue. “Did it warm because you fed?” I asked, knowing that Nyktos rarely fed. From what I could gather, Primals didn’t need to feed often unless they were wounded and weakened. And I had weakened him, just a little, when I hit him with that blast of eather.

He shook his head. “My skin has never warmed to the touch after feeding. It has always been cold.”

“Then why…?” I figured it out. “The embers?”

“I am Death,” he reminded me. “And you carry the embers of life in you. Your blood is what warmed my skin.”

“Will my blood have any other effects on you?”

There was a quick upward curl of his lips. “That is yet to be seen.”

I was staring way too hard at his mouth, so I shifted my gaze to his… throat. Something about what he’d said didn’t make sense. He wasn’t the true Primal of Death, just a Primal of Death. So why would his skin be cold in the first place? Then again, maybe it was because he was a Primal of Death.

Now I was just confusing myself. “I wonder if Taric could taste it. I mean, he knew I had at least one ember in me when he went through my memories, but if he hadn’t, would he still have known?”

Eather flashed brilliantly in Nyktos’s eyes. “No other will feed from you, so that’s not something you’ll need to worry about.”

My brows rose.

“But, yes,” he said, his voice thin. “He would’ve tasted it.” “Does my blood taste like it smells?”

He was silent as he dipped the cloth into the water. “It tastes like a summer storm and the sun.”

An unsteady laugh left me as my chest warmed. “What does that even taste like?”

“Heat. Power. Life,” he said without hesitation. “Yet soft. Airy. Like sponge cake. Like…”

I was staring at his mouth again. “Like what?”

Nyktos cleared his throat, shaking his head. “By the way, when you think I’m moving too fast? I’m not actually moving—not in the way you think.”

I frowned. He was clearly changing the subject. “Then in what way are

you moving?”

“I use eather to will myself where I want to go,” he said, gently pressing the cloth to the skin around the wound. “It’s called shadowstepping.”

I stared at him, my brows raised. “Isn’t that normally called plain old walking?”

Nyktos chuckled. “It’s a bit different than that. When I will myself to move like that, I’m becoming a part of the eather—the air around us. Mortal eyes simply cannot see us do it.”

Curiosity rose. “What does it look like?”

“A glimmer of shadow, moving very rapidly,” he answered. “And the more eather a god carries, the farther they can shadowstep, and the faster they move.”

“Is that what you did when you took me from the Great Hall in Wayfair?”

“Yes. I summoned mist to hide us first. And because you’re mostly mortal, it would have been a very painful experience for you if awake.”

I’d take his word for that, but then I remembered what he had told me about not being able to will himself from my lake. “So you can will yourself wherever you want to go…” He smirked. “How far can you… shadowstep?”

He glanced up at me. “As far as I want.”

I blinked slowly. “Then why do you use a horse? Or walk anywhere? If I could do that, I probably wouldn’t walk a foot.”

A faint grin appeared. “Just because I can do something doesn’t mean I need to.”

He’d said some variation of that before when we were at my lake. “I bet there are many things you can do that I have no idea about.”

His grin kicked up farther on one side. “Will I be able to do that if I Ascend?”

“You will Ascend,” he corrected. “And it will all depend on how much eather you have in you. Based on what you’re already able to do, I imagine you will be able to shadowstep in some capacity. Many gods can. Though they cannot travel the distance a Primal can or cross realms.”

I tried to picture myself shadowstepping out of one space and into the next, and quickly decided that I probably wouldn’t ever walk normally again.

“What were you thinking about?” Nyktos asked after a couple of moments. “Just a few minutes ago when you felt as if you…wanted to murder someone.”

Caught off guard, I blurted out the truth. “Tavius.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he continued carefully wiping at the blood around the wound. “Part of me doesn’t want to know what made you think of him.” A lock of hair slipped from the bun he’d tied his hair back in, falling across his cheek. He was quiet as he dipped the cloth into the bowl again. “Did he hurt you before that day?”

I stared at the top of his head as he bent once more, all thoughts of shadowstepping disappearing.

“He did, didn’t he? That bruise I saw on you. It was several days old, nearly faded. You said you walked into something, and yet I’ve seen few people as sure-footed as you.” He paused. “Except when around serpents.”

The corner of my lips twitched and then flattened when I thought of the cause of the bruise Nyktos questioned. Tavius had thrown a bowl of dates at me.

“Did he harm you?” Nyktos persisted.

I started to lie but realized I was simply too tired to do so. “He wasn’t kind.”

“And what does that entail?” He dabbed at the wound gently, but I still jerked at the sting of pain. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” My cheeks burned, either from the conversation or his apology. Maybe both. “He could be mean. Growing up, it was mostly verbal. When I wore the veil, he wouldn’t dare. For the most part,” I said, thinking of how he’d tried to touch me the night I’d first been brought to the Shadow Temple to honor the deal.

“And that changed?” Nyktos eyed the wound.

I lifted my right shoulder. “He touched you?”

“Sometimes.” My gaze lifted to the black doors trimmed in silver. “Most of the time, he didn’t get a chance.”

“You kicked his ass?”

My lips twisted into a smirk. “On more than one occasion. But others couldn’t always fight back.” I suddenly thought of Princess Kayleigh sobbing quietly in the woods. “Tavius was betrothed at one point, to a younger Princess from Irelone. I don’t think he was…kind to her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He fell quiet then, but not for long. “The day he whipped you…” he said, and my gaze flew to him. Nyktos dragged the cloth along the flesh above the waistband of my leggings, washing away the thin trails of blood. “Why did he do it?”

He’d asked that before. I hadn’t told him then. Nyktos waited, quiet as he bent his head. He didn’t look up at me, and maybe that was why I felt I could speak. “Tavius hated me. I don’t even really know why. Honestly, I don’t think it was personal. He wasn’t nice to many. He was just that kind of person, you know? Someone who derives strength and pleasure from dominating others. And when they can’t do that, it makes them all the more determined to do so.”

“I know the type,” he said.

I imagined he did. “His father—King Ernald—died the night before, and the King, he sort of…I don’t know. Reprimanded Tavius for his behavior before. I think I was more shocked than Tavius was, but with his father gone and him about to become King, it was like whatever had been holding him back was no longer there. He blamed me for the Rot,” I added after a few moments. “He thought I should be punished for failing.”

“Failing?” Nyktos’s shoulders tensed. “For me not taking you as my Consort?”

I looked away from him, focusing on the pinkish water in the bowl. “Among many other things, I’m sure. Anyway, he wanted to punish me.”

Nyktos lowered the hand that held the cloth to the desk. “And your mother? She acted as she did that day? Did nothing? Because she, too, blamed you for the Rot? Believed you had failed?”

There was really no point in answering.

“What would have happened if I hadn’t felt you that day?” Nyktos asked as my gaze shifted to his hand holding the bloodied cloth. His

knuckles had bleached white. “What would he have done to you once he had his fun with the whip?”

I shook my head, my stomach churning as I recalled Tavius holding me down on that narrow, uncomfortable bed. Pressing me into the thin mattress until I felt like I was choking. I shifted, gripping the hem of my sweater until I felt the thread beginning to pop.

Nyktos had picked up my glass with his other hand. “Drink.”

Knowing I’d likely hurled those stifling, choking emotions at him, I grabbed the glass and finished off the whiskey.

He took the empty glass, setting it aside once more and then returned to studying the wound. “What would’ve happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.” “It matters.”

“To who?” I laughed hoarsely, and then because I couldn’t bear the silence that was sure to follow, spoke again. “He…he would’ve done something that would’ve ended with his favorite part of him being shoved down his throat. He would’ve tried, that is.”

Nyktos twisted his head to the side. A sudden charge of energy hit the air, causing tiny goose bumps to spread along my skin. A burnt smell rose. I looked down to see nothing but ash remained of the cloth he’d held—and a charred mark on the desk.

“Others had to be aware. Your stepsister?” His tone was cold, flat.

Thin. “Holland?”

I swallowed the sourness gathering in the back of my throat. “What could any of them do? Holland would’ve been sent away or killed for speaking out—or at least they would’ve tried. He intervened more than once, in ways that he could. And I don’t think Ezra knew the full of extent of Tavius’s behavior.”

“You defend them?”

“Because they deserve to be defended. He was a Prince, and I was—” I cut myself off and squeezed my eyes shut, unsure why I had even told him any of this. It had to be the shock of everything, the adrenaline wearing off, and the exhaustion settling in. Maybe it was because it felt as if there was no reason to hide when he already knew other ugly truths. When I knew how all of this would end. It could’ve just been the damn whiskey.

“You were a Princess.” “I was never that.”

Nyktos didn’t speak, and I didn’t open my eyes. Several moments passed before he said, “When I didn’t take you as my Consort, I wasn’t giving you your freedom.”

A faint tremor ran through me. It wasn’t a question. It needed no answer.

“I’m sorry, Sera.”

My eyes flew open, every part of my being seizing as I let go of my sweater. He’d lifted his head, and with his eyes on me, seeing me—really seeing me—it made his apology all the more unbearable. My skin burned hotly. My chest seized. “I don’t want your apology,” I choked out. “I didn’t tell you any of that to get it. I don’t want your pity or your sympathy.”

“I know.” He touched my cheek, his fingers damp but warm. “Breathe, Sera.”

I sucked in air.

“I could never pity someone as strong and brave as you,” Nyktos said. “But you do have my sympathy and my apologies.”

I leaned back, but his hand followed. “I don’t want that. Or need it and

—”

“I know,” he repeated, his thumb coasted across my cheek. “But they

are there in case you are in need of them one day.”

Raw emotion swelled so quickly that I had to close my eyes again, because if I didn’t, that mess of emotion would make itself painfully visible.

Nyktos’s thumb stilled. “I will go right now and end your miserable excuse of a mother’s life and take her soul into the Abyss, placing it beside Tavius’s, where it belongs.”

My eyes snapped open. “You can’t mean that.”

“I have never meant anything more in my entire life,” he swore. “All you have to do is say yes, and it will be done.”

I sucked in air as a terrible part of me lifted its wretched head. The part that existed beyond the veil of nothing, that hid beneath the blank canvas and was the fire that forged the vessel into place. The part of me that wanted to scream yes and revel in the knowledge that it was I who’d brought about her end. Me. The one who wasn’t even worth looking in the eye half the time. The irony was too sweet. Wouldn’t it be? For it was she who’d built that canvas and wielded that fire.

Nyktos waited, and in that moment, I knew he would do it. Not because he was fond of me or cared, but because he felt responsible. Guilty. Maybe

even remorseful. Sympathetic.

I exhaled roughly and forced out, “No.” “You sure?”

“Yes. It wouldn’t be…it wouldn’t be worth it in the end.” I didn’t want her blood on my hands. I already had enough.

“If you ever change your mind, I know a guy who can get it done.”

I shook with a wet-sounding laugh. “Was that a Primal of Death joke?” “Perhaps.” Several long moments passed. Neither of us moved. His

His hand was still on my cheek, and our eyes were locked. The contact, the closeness… I soaked it in. Then he pulled back, lowering his hand, and I instantly missed his touch. “You need to rest,” he said before I could respond. “And I’m not commanding you. If you decide not to, that’s your choice. But your body needs it. Whether you want to admit it or not, the Culling makes everyone more vulnerable, and you’ve already pushed yourself beyond that once. The headaches will return faster and worse than before, and you could slip into another rest.”

“I don’t want that,” I murmured.

“Good. Neither do I.” His gaze lingered on my face. “The embers of life in you are very strong.”

“Yeah, I figured. You know,”—I lifted my hands, wiggling my fingers—“I can bring people back from the dead and, apparently, summon them when I’m really angry.”

A slight warmth appeared in his eyes. “I wasn’t referring to either of those things. You were cut with shadowstone. That would kill a mortal. It would also kill a godling. Your skin and veins would already bear the mark of it, and whatever blood of mine is in you wouldn’t have stopped it.”

“Oh.” My eyes went wide. He was right. I’d forgotten. Looking down, I yanked up my sweater. The cut was there, angry but no longer bleeding. “Wow.”

“Yes. Wow,” he repeated dryly.

A giggle crept up my throat, and that was totally the whiskey.

Nyktos smiled faintly. “Makes you wonder how else the Primal embers may be protecting you.”