The Den of Ecstasy pulsed like a living thing, heat and rhythm intertwining in a haze of bodies and forbidden pleasures. The scent of wine, sweat, and something sweetly decadent saturated the air, clinging to your skin and clothes. Fae lights loom overhead, casting the stone walls in hues of violet, emerald, and indigo, their glow caressing the sin-streaked faces of the patrons. The music—low, throbbing, hypnotic—guided you, each beat syncing with the sway of your hips.

Here, in this sanctuary of indulgence, none of it mattered. Not the Court, not the politics, not the crushing weight of familial expectations. No lectures, no lessons, no endless reminders that you carried a name like a crown and a chain. Here, you were just a body in motion, no titles or responsibilities tethering you to the world outside.

Your partner—a stunning Fae, all sharp angles and sly smiles—had hands that knew exactly where to linger. His touch sent shivers down your spine, a heady distraction that drowned out everything else. His laugh, low and inviting, wrapped around you like silk as he pulled you closer.

Then you felt it.

A familiar presence pressed against your mind. It shouldn’t have been possible—Helion’s wards made sure of that. But there was no mistaking the icy brush of his power.

You kept your eyes shut for a moment longer, clinging to the warmth of your dance partner’s hands, to the fleeting freedom in their touch. But it was no use. His presence grew more insistent, dragging you back into reality.

When you finally opened your eyes, you felt it before you saw him: the tension of shadows coiled in the room, dimming the lights and stealing the air.

There he was. Nyx.

Tall, imposing, and unimpressed, his blue eyes burned like ice beneath the shimmer of the Fae lights. His arms were crossed, shadows flickering restlessly at his shoulders like caged beasts. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. That sharp, protective glare was enough to peel away the thin veneer of rebellion you’d been clinging to.