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His thumb brushed once across my flushed cheek.

I was utterly frozen, panting in my captor’s arms, equal parts of disgust and guilt warring inside me.

His eyes hardened as if sensing my thoughts. It was impossible, though, because I had built that wall around the bond the moment my power returned.

His mask slipped back into place, one corner of his mouth lifting as he stood with me in his arms, my bare legs still wrapped around his hips.

He gripped my calves, hands gliding behind my knees, and his fingers dug in a little too hard to pry me off him.

He let my breasts slide down the bare planes of his chest until my feet touched the ground. “Get cleaned up, sunshine. The guards will be here any moment.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chance

Lyra

Clean and dressed in the same white ensemble as the day before, I curled into the armchair and picked at the warm bread and butter that had been waiting on a silver platter when I emerged from the washroom.

My blood had been cleaned from the floor.

When I washed the blood from my body, I had expected wounds, but the evidence I should have carried was gone too, mended by whatever impossible magic belonged to me now.

The room looked as untouched as my body.

A shiver tore through me, and I placed the bread back on the platter and brushed the crumbs from my fingers.

Without realising, they drifted to my lips. They still hummed with the warmth of Helion's kiss.

Something had shifted the moment I kissed him, quiet and unseen, like the final piece of a shattered mosaic finding where it had always belonged.

I hated how right it had felt. The feeling sank into my stomach like a rock trying to drag me to the bottom of the ocean.

Helion sat on the edge of the bed, damp hair dripping onto the shoulders of his white tunic from his own bath. He ate with a hunger I couldn't seem to summon, tearing into the bread as though he were starving.

My gaze lingered long enough for him to notice.

He paused mid-bite, swallowed the frankly offensive amount of food in his mouth, and glanced at me.

“The games are the only time they feed us properly.” He reached for another piece. “Can't have their entertainment weak from starvation.”

My appetite disappeared entirely, mouth turning dry at the mention of what happens while the games are not being held. “How thoughtful.”

“Astaroth is nothing if not a generous host.”

The horrors of the night clung to me like dried blood. They seemed to slide from him as easily as water. Either he was remarkably good at pretending... or the Nether had long since taught him how to live beside agony.

I’d feel sorry for him if it were not his own fault.

The door slammed open, swinging on its hinges with loud crack. Guards stormed into the room.

Helion dropped to his knees, placing his hands behind his back in submission while still chewing the last of his food.

His eyes never left me.

Astaroth’s magic pressed into the room like a physical force, announcing his presence before I saw him. The air thickened. A metallic taste spread across my tongue.

I didn’t move as he strolled in, hands tucked into the tailored pockets of his trousers.