Four

Flame

Surra’s eyes reminded Elden of storm clouds the second before lightning split the sky. He gazed into them, tilting his head left and right to memorize every facet of cold gray. This was the first time he’d seen them with the blessing—The white pearl Surra had asked him to swallow. Elden trembled from its awesome might as he reached to touch the magnificent angles of her face. So soft. So beautiful.

But when Surra’s eyes widened, Elden let his hand fall, not wishing to offend—

“No!” His goddess brought his palm back to her cheek and leaned into it.

Sweet tears spilled from Surra’s lashes. Unable to bear it, Elden brushed them away with his thumb, saying, “I am honored by your grace, Surra.”

With this pearl, Elden could admire the subtleties of her expressions. Sparkling eyes framed by gently arching brows. The pull on Surra’s lips in a soft smile. How her skin pulsed with a blue light, emphasizing the streak in her hair.

Surra said, “You reveled in my presence, and the moment you can speak, you speak only of me. What does Elden desire?”

A question Elden could answer with pure certainty and a smirk on his lips. “You.” Forever he’d waited for this moment, to voice his desire—To show Surra what she meant to him. Elden cupped her cheek, leaned down, and claimed Surra’s lips in a searing kiss.

The Icari swarmed and consumed the foreigner’s corpse while Elden carried his goddess back to her throne, where they spent many nights in each other’s arms.

All the while, Elden lamented that Surra never got to see his eyes before One and Tumu poured Li into them.

In her sleep, Rayne’s legs scissored together for sweet friction, gripping the sheets to hold on to—

Rayne’s eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded, and the bed was hot from… Well, Elden’s memory was vivid, and every sensation was burned onto her skin. Hands, lips, tongues—

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Honeysuckle.

Oh, shit.

Nox.

Flustered and frustrated, Rayne tiptoed to the edge of the loft and peered out. Her roommate was laid out on the couch—mostly on the couch—with an arm flung over his face so she couldn’t see his eyes. While she stared at Nox, who looked so at ease in this place, Rayne couldn’t help but notice he had taken his shirt off during the night. Who could blame him? The temperature was always perfect with a nacre, but dressing down was best for sleeping—

Who was Rayne kidding?!

Nox had spent millions of years honing his physique into peak fighting shape, and oh, Eternity, did it show. The only ounce of fat on the man perfectly filled out the back of his pants. Everything about Nox exhibited the power contained in him and made Rayne think of how he’d used it to help her. To seek redemption in saving their people. Which meant more to Rayne, since she was sure a good percentage of those people wouldn’t approve of this partnership.

Xelan.

Rayne turned away from Nox and went to develop some kind of morning self care routine when she glimpsed herself in the mirror. Her hair—It was wavy. And so much fun to play with. Yay, sleh oil!

With that, Rayne tiptoed down the stairs to keep from waking her distractingly attractive roomie and padded around the corner to the kitchen. From her own provisions, she ate a Vittle crop supplement and boiled some tea for breakfast, all while trying to keep quiet. It was nice living with someone else, so far anyway. While her tea steeped, Rayne mused to herself about building a bigger couch for Nox. Then she grabbed a tablet, curled up in the nook Xelan had built into the library wall, and sipped from her obscenely large tea mug.

Somehow the tech in this treeloft updated itself with current events, including Xelan’s Verse which had gone live two hours ago. Rayne sifted through public reactions. Still fresh in its establishment, Iona Pax’s King Elects voiced nothing but support for their Co-Emperors. People lauded all three Icari—Nox, Korac, and Xelan—as the bravest souls in the galaxy.

This reception could only mean Xelan didn’t publicize that Celindria was still breathing. It was probably for the best. A public uproar would only hinder Rayne and Nox’s work.

With a sip of her never-ending tea, she filtered through more news for reports of unusual activity, like the orphanage on Pil and the hospital on Reipon. The missing civic workers, and so on.

Wait.

There was something new from Pil. Five months ago, three hundred people were saved in a mudslide—No casualties. All the survivors claimed a man pulled them from the rushing mud at significant risk to himself. A fly-er with Icarean wings.

Rayne shuffled through more reports, this time from Lukemore. Three months ago, a mysterious stranger had stopped an underground slave ring—An attempt to maintain the old regime.

Lukemore’s angel freed one thousand children destined for underground vice trade and silk mills before departing without a word.

Then one more from last month in Reipon.

Serial pedophile found dead, ripped apart, on Prince’s yacht.

From her corner in the loft, Rayne peered over at Nox, still asleep.

What would Xelan make of his brother now? Would Nox’s good deeds ever compensate for the wrong he’d brought into these worlds? And how could Rayne show Xelan that his brother was a man worth knowing, a man worth forgiving? Could Rayne ever convince him to see Nox for what he was?

A man worth loving.