TWELVE

Flare

Within Ishkur, on the continent of Cinder II, city districts twinkled like jewels in a sea of cranberry ink and forests of black sentinels. Overseers zipped between Ionas in the sky, free of an exploding star and blue as Rayne’s eyes by day. As dark as Xelan’s by artificial night. The space scrapers formed a tidy row on the major artery, pulsing with all manner of life. Each one sought entertainment and company at this late hour. So many unaware of the threat beneath their feet.

Night Rayne’s Tomb slept below, waiting to open her eyes and stretch in her bed of vice.

Nox and Rayne stood at the entrance in a pool of white light, simply another pair of faces in a crowd, eagerly awaiting entry. Korac would approve of Nox’s coat, long and leather with a hood to hide his features. Black, of course. But after Rayne’s remark about blue on Nox, he was wearing a cobalt button down for her. And as always, the pants matched the coat. She’d helped with his hair, and he’d basked in the comfort of her fingers entwining with the strands.

Rayne was wearing the same short dress as earlier, with one recent addition. A paper mask she cut to look like a butterfly and colored to match her clothes. With a piece of twine, she fastened it to her face. It should look silly, but came across more as mysterious and whimsical. Certainly turned heads.

The crowd’s chatter turned into a roar of excitement as music began to throb from the venue. A claustrophobic surge pressed them toward the door—More contact than Nox could take, and the overstimulation left him dizzy.

Rayne’s warm hand entwined in his fingers. She peered up at him through the holes in her mask, and without words, he knew what she was saying.

They were always safe together. For Eternity’s sake, she could level the city on her own. There was no danger here.

Aside from the random Icarean female with her eyes locked on them for six minutes straight.

Before leaving the treeloft, Rayne and Nox had talked about the agents in the crowd.

“Do you think it’s volition?” Rayne had asked, as she brushed hair from his eyes.

Pulling her closer to him in bed, Nox said, “Doubtless. We should mark their number, but they gain nothing of her abilities. Easily disposable and easily disposed.”

Rayne placed her hand over his nacre as she asked the next. “What about the Probability Matrix? Should we try to investigate—”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Shh, my dear martyr. One thing at a time.”

Celindria’s reach had extended to Ishkur. This was troubling, but good to know—

A horrible alarm rang through the deep ramp into Night Rayne’s Tomb from the street, and the nacre shields vanished. Thousands poured into the venue, drawing around Nox and Rayne like river water through rapids. Not to give themselves away, the pair let the current take them, spilling into a wide open… Tomb for lack of a better word.

Four walls were spread a mile apart in all directions, displaying a projected scene. A woman on a stage, singing and dancing along a gauntlet of blades and razor wire. She bore a resemblance to Rayne, which was the only reason Nox recognized it as her Shadow friend, Lucy. This monolith was a memorial to her band, and it played what could only be her music. These were songs about Nox and Rayne’s fictional—now real—romance.

Nice beat.

Expert use of synthetic sounds.

And a little string.

“I like this song,” Nox confessed, while leaning into Rayne.

Her laughter was a bright burst of joy, and he was proud it had come from him. It died quickly, as she whispered in his ear, “Have you seen them?”

Everywhere.

All races.

People stopped in the middle of conversations, ordering drinks, or dancing to notice Nox and Rayne. Acting ‘natural’ was outside of Celindria’s capabilities. He said, “At least this means we’re in the right place.”

But now what?

Caedes said he would send agents from the Shadow to investigate the human trafficking ring in Ishkur’s underground, but while they contended with that, Nox and Rayne should try to lure out Celindria. Or at least determine her actual whereabouts.

He leaned down to say as much, but the look in Rayne’s eyes stopped him.

Mischief.

She’d inherited Xelan’s brand of trouble making.

“Let’s dance.” Rayne pulled for Nox to join her on the dance floor.

After a second of consideration, he allowed it and followed her into the throng. The song was bassy and enticing. Even among all these bodies, they stood out with his size and her mask. The regular attendees gaped and whispered of sighting the pair from Cinder’s races, but those under Celindria’s volition glared through a venomous lens.

Nox opened his wings and enclosed Rayne with him, pushing some gasping onlookers away. At her quirked brow, he offered, “I suppose I’m an introvert.”

Rayne laughed, wrapped her arms around him, and slipped a hand under his shirt onto his back. On tiptoe, she kissed his neck. Their pulse raced with the spontaneous PDA.

This was not the mischief Nox had expected; however, it would certainly lure Celindria’s attention if the mad woman truly believed she and Nox were the Eternal Bind. A ploy should do the trick—

Rayne nibbled over Nox’s carotid, and it was no longer a ploy for him. He growled and gripped her nape, pulling her back to lift her mask and see her eyes.

Lost in passion, Rayne ran her tongue along her lips, and that was all the invitation Nox needed. Static charged their electric kiss and surged through his winged barrier.

They would do this.

In public.

Nox didn’t care.

Here and there massive caissons—structural support—ruined the venue’s open field effect. Rayne pulled Nox over to one in the dark, outside a ring of colorful and ultraviolet lamps. About the time her back hit the wall, Nox lifted her up and opened his wings. Rayne wrapped her legs around him and moaned when he ground into her, finding her ready. When she pulled, the buttons flew off Nox’s shirt, and Rayne greedily put her hands on him. He could not get enough of their scents together. Her nails raked the back of his neck, and Nox squeezed her ass, positioning her for—

“Rayne? Does Xelan know you’re alive?”

Whoever this auburn-haired male with freckles and a pair of dead eyes was, Nox hoped he brought a body bag.