Chapter 89 Heat Rising
[Nyx]
"Lysander—" My protest became something else entirely as his teeth grazed my skin.
"Mm?" He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, and the heat in them made my breath catch. "You were saying?"
I grabbed the front of his shirt, cream-sticky fingers not caring about the fabric. "I was saying you fight dirty."
"You started it." Another spray of cream, this time along my jaw. His mouth followed immediately, kissing and licking with maddening thoroughness. "I'm just finishing it."
"Is that—" I gasped as he found that sensitive spot below my ear, "—what you call this?"
"No." He straightened, pulling me up with him, the bowl of strawberries forgotten on the desk. "This is called proving a point."
"What point?" My voice came out breathier than I intended.
His hands slid down to my hips, backing me against the desk. "That sometimes..." He pressed against me, and I felt every hard line of him, "...rest..." His lips brushed mine, barely a touch, "...can wait."
I yanked him closer, capturing his mouth properly. He tasted like strawberries and cream and heat, and when his tongue swept against mine, the exhaustion that had been weighing me down transformed into something else entirely—something electric and demanding.
"Bedroom," I managed between kisses. "Now."
"Thought you'd never ask." He lifted me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me toward the door.
The laptop, the meetings, the stress—all of it dissolved into sensation as he laid me down on the bed, his weight a perfect pressure above me.
"Still tired?" he murmured against my throat.
I pulled his shirt over his head, fingers tracing the defined muscles I'd been admiring for weeks. "Wide awake."
His laugh was low and wicked. "Good. Because I'm not done proving my point."
---
The next morning, I woke wrapped in Lysander's arms, my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
The phone shattered the peace.
I groaned, reaching for it blindly. Lysander's arm tightened around me, pulling me back against him.
"Ignore it," he murmured into my hair.
But the caller ID showed Damon's name. I answered.
"Selene's gone," he said without preamble.
I sat up abruptly, fully awake now. "What?"
"Last night. Someone breached detention, got past every guard. Took her out in under three minutes. Professional work." His voice was tight with frustration. "They left a message on the wall in blood: 'Blood for blood.'"
Ice slid down my spine. Lysander was already sitting up beside me, alert.
"Do you know who did it?" I asked.
"No." Frustration bled through his words. "We checked the surveillance footage, interviewed every guard on duty. The footage shows someone, but they knew exactly where the cameras were. Stayed in shadows, kept their face covered. Moved like a trained killer—fast, efficient, knew the layout."
"What about people close to her?" Lysander asked, leaning closer to listen.
"Already questioned everyone. Her lover, her friends, pack members loyal to her—all accounted for. None of them left the territory last night." Damon's exhale was sharp. "Whoever did this came from outside—or was good enough to cover their tracks completely."
My stomach twisted. Someone had rescued Selene. Someone wanted her free badly enough to risk a direct assault on Shadowcrest's detention facilities.
"Could be a mercenary," Damon continued. "Could be someone with a personal grudge. Could be anyone. But that message—'Blood for blood'—suggests revenge."
Part of me couldn't summon sympathy. She'd tried to kill Lilith. She'd tried to kill me. Whatever came for her now—she'd earned it.
"We're coming to the hospital," I said. "We need to see Lilith before we leave."
"I'll meet you there," Damon said, and hung up.
---
At the hospital, Lilith was sitting up in bed, color finally returning to her face. When she saw Damon, her expression softened.
"I have to go," he said quietly, taking her hand. "Selene escaped. I need to find her."
Lilith's grip tightened on his. "Be careful."
"Always." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
When he left, Lilith turned to me. "You're going home?"
"Yes." I moved closer, squeezing her shoulder. "But I'll call. Every day. And when you're cleared to travel—"
"I know." She managed a smile. "Go. Moonblade needs you."
---
The private jet hummed steadily as we climbed toward cruising altitude, leaving Shadowcrest territory behind. I should have felt relief—Lilith was safe, Selene was someone else's problem now, and we were finally heading home.
Instead, I felt hot.
Not uncomfortable warm. Not cabin-pressure warm. This was different—a slow-building furnace beneath my skin that made every fiber of my clothing feel abrasive and wrong.
I shifted in the leather seat, trying to get comfortable. Failed. Shifted again.
Through our bond, I felt Lysander's attention sharpen.
You alright? His mental voice carried concern.
Fine, I sent back, tugging at my collar. Just warm.
But I wasn't fine. My skin was becoming hypersensitive, every brush of fabric sending little electric shocks through my nervous system. When Lysander's hand settled on my thigh—casual, comforting—I had to bite back a gasp.
His touch felt like fire.
"Nyx." His voice had dropped an octave. "Your scent..."
I knew what he was smelling. That honey-and-musk combination that meant only one thing.
"No," I breathed, fear spiking through me. "Not now—I'm not ready for this—" The unfamiliar heat was spreading faster, making it hard to think clearly. "Lysander, I don't know—I've never done this before—"