Ciaran's POV
She was still humming with the echo of their joined pleasure—her limbs loose, her mouth slightly parted, even as Ari's consciousness clawed her way back into dominance. But Therrin was still there. Just beneath the surface. Watching. Breathing. Burning.
"You feel that, little shadow?" he whispered in her mind. "You think you can pretend you don't crave this? Pretend you're still afraid of me?"
There was silence for a moment, but it wasn't empty. No—Therrin's energy pulsed behind the veil like a storm held barely at bay. He could feel her emotions churning. Hunger. Confusion. Lust. Guilt. Longing.
"I felt you open to me."
"I felt your soul answer mine."
"You can let Ari play innocent all she likes. But you and I—we're carved from the same dark."
sweat not his own. The memory of her pressed against him still lingered in every breath.
And that was when the air thickened.
The cold came first. Not natural cold—but ancient. The kind that made stars weep and gods kneel.
From the edges of the void, something began to form.
A woman. But not.
She stepped forward from nothing, dressed in shadowed silk and bare feet that never touched the ground. Her hair spilled like smoke behind her, endless and alive. And her eyes—goddess, those eyes—were voids threaded with violet flame.
The Mistress.
Ciaran immediately dropped to one knee, head bowed. He knew better than to look at her too long.
"You've tasted the fruit before it ripened."
Ciaran didn't flinch. "She offered herself."
"She did. But not both. And not fully." Her tone didn't sharpen—but the air around him did, cracking with tension. "You dance on the edge of what is allowed, my faithful."
He raised his head slowly. "I haven't broken the bond."
She walked toward him, feet still not touching the dream-floor, the mist curling around her like a living veil. "No. But you tested it. Pushed into the thinnest crack. And now the twin souls stir against one another because of you."
Ciaran clenched his jaw. "She's mine. You said so."
The Mistress tilted her head, studying him with slow amusement. "I said she could be. If she chooses the shadow freely. But desire isn't the same as devotion. Not yet."
He hated how her words always cut deeper than they sounded.
"She felt everything," he muttered, trying not to betray the heat that still burned through his veins. "She came alive for me."
"She came alive with you," the Mistress corrected. "And yet she didn't stay."
Ciaran growled low, but forced his body still. He wouldn't let the disappointment show. Not here. Not to her.
"You're not angry with me," he said, narrowing his gaze. "You're curious."
The Mistress smiled. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm wondering… if your hunger will ruin her before she's ready."
"She can handle it," Ciaran said with quiet fire. "She was meant for this."
The Mistress moved closer now, her shadow wrapping gently around his throat—not choking, but marking. Reminding. "She was meant for power. Not just pleasure. Don't forget your place in this game. Or I'll let her twin devour you from the inside out."
He bared his teeth, breathing hard, but nodded once. "As you command."
The Mistress leaned close enough to whisper against his temple. "We're almost at the choosing. Let her burn—but not break. And don't lose her before the end."
And with that, she was gone. A ripple in the dark. A breath swallowed by the void.
Ciaran stood slowly, the imprint of her power still searing through his body.
Therrin was silent now.
But he knew she'd felt all of it.
And she wouldn't be able to forget.
Not the way he touched her.
Not the way she craved it.
Not the truth in the Mistress's warning.
She was caught in this now.
And he'd make damn sure she never wanted to leave.