Page 56 of Shadowkissed

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I say, voice flat.

“Neither are you,” he replies, stepping into the light like a scene-stealing villain. He’s beautiful, in that eerie, polished way that makes mortals trust monsters. Tall. Elegant. Dressed in black and bone-white, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat, revealing the faint runes scrawled across his collarbone—Seraphiel’s mark of ownership.

“Get out,” I snap.

He doesn’t move. “You’re empty,” he says, cocking his head like he’s surprised. “He’s gone from you.”

My blood runs cold.

He smirks, licking his bottom lip like the taste of my grief is delicious.

“Do you know what that does to you?” he murmurs. “To be half of a bond with no anchor? You’re unraveling, little fae. And you didn’t even notice.”

I reach for the dagger in my boot.

He tuts. “Temper, temper. I’m not here to fight.”

“Thenwhyare you here? I did what your master wanted. There’s no need to threaten Dante or me right now.”

He steps closer, movements slow, deliberate.

“Because he’s ready,” Riven whispers. “Seraphiel’s done waiting. The altar’s prepared. The blood spells are cast. He just needsyou.Willing or not.”

“I’m not coming.”

His expression sharpens. “Then he’ll take you.”

“Over my dead body.”

His eyes flash. “That’s the plan.”

Before I can strike, he moves faster than I remember.

He’s in front of me in a blink, one hand curling around my wrist, the other brushing the side of my face like he owns it. Like he’s already imagining what I’ll look like bound and broken.

“You smell like him,” he murmurs. “Even now. But it’s fading. Which means I can touch you again without him knowing. Without that Guardian dog searing through your skin.”

I jerk back, but his grip tightens.

“You’rehis,” he breathes, voice reverent and twisted. “And soon, you’ll beours.”

“I’d rather die.”

He leans in, lips brushing my ear.

“Oh, love. You will.”

That’s when I let go.

Let the shadows pour out of me.

They rip across the theater like a storm, crashing into him and throwing him backward with enough force to crack the stage. The wooden boards splinter beneath him as he slams into the floor, breath knocked from his lungs.

I don’t wait.

I run.

Out in the alley, under the bruised twilight sky, I collapse against the wall and gasp for breath. My magic still churns, barely under control, coiled and wild andhungry.

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