Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

LILITH

T he Duvall mansion was eerily quiet, the usual hum of magic that permeated the air now a muted thrum beneath the surface. It felt as though the entire house held its breath, waiting for the storm to break. Inside, Lilith paced back and forth, her bare feet gliding across the smooth, polished wood floors. Each step made a soft sound, almost inaudible, but to her sharpened senses, it was a drumbeat in the stillness of the night.

Her mind raced as she felt the gravity of her decision. The Duvall sisters, Ronan, Zephyr—all of them were part of a tangled web she had chosen to step into, a web that had her standing on the edge of betrayal. She had turned her back on the High Council, the one she had served faithfully for centuries. The one that had shaped her into the warrior she was.

And yet, here she was, standing in the heart of the Duvall mansion, a traitor to her own people, her allegiance now uncertain.

Lilith ran a hand through her hair, her thoughts clouded with doubt. The scent of her surroundings—rich, earthy, and tinged with something darker—only deepened her unrest. The distinct aromas of fae, shifter, and demon magic mingled in the air, creating a volatile mix. It was the scent of unlikely alliances, of desperation, and of something more dangerous brewing beneath the surface.

Tensions ran high in the mansion. It was palpable in every glance exchanged, every whisper that passed between the sisters as they planned their next move. Lilith could feel Ronan's presence just behind her, like a constant pull at her senses, a distraction she couldn't afford but one she couldn't ignore. He hadn't said much since they arrived, but she could feel his gaze on her, burning through the space between them, watching her every move.

She stopped pacing and turned toward one of the room's large windows, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared out at the shadowed garden below. The moonlight bathed the flowers and vines in an ethereal glow, but even the beauty of the scene outside couldn't calm the storm inside her. The tension in her muscles refused to release, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting loyalties and unresolved desires.

Behind her, she heard the soft creak of floorboards as Ronan moved closer, his footsteps heavy and sure. She didn't need to turn around to know he was there; she could feel him, his presence like a storm at her back, threatening to overwhelm her every sense. The air between them crackled with the same energy that had been building since the first moment they crossed paths—a volatile mix of frustration, desire, and unspoken words.

"You've been pacing for over an hour," Ronan said, his voice low, the deep rumble of it sending a shiver down her spine. "It's not going to solve anything."

Lilith's lips tightened as she turned to face him, her violet eyes locking onto his golden ones. There was a heat in his gaze, barely restrained, and it matched the slow burn simmering inside her. "I don't need advice from you, shifter."

Ronan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with a casualness that only made the tension between them more intense. His eyes never left hers, and that maddening smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're wound tight, Lilith. So tight you're going to snap."

"Maybe," she bit out, "but that's my business. Not yours."

"Isn't it?" Ronan took a step forward, closing the space between them just enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the wild scent of him that clung to his skin—earth, sweat, and something distinctly animalistic. "Because from where I'm standing, you, the Duvalls and Zephyr have dragged me into this mess, and now it's very much my business."

Lilith's breath hitched, and she hated herself for the way her pulse quickened at his proximity. The tension between them was becoming unbearable, strung taut as if just waiting to snap. Every time he was near, her body responded, her magic pulsing in time with the pounding of her heart.

"Then you've got more than enough on your plate," she said, her voice sharper than intended, though she couldn't stop herself. "Maybe you should focus on that instead of watching me."

Ronan's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. He took another step toward her, closing the gap even further, until they were mere inches apart. "Maybe," he said, his voice rough, "but I can't seem to stop watching you, can I? Any more than you can take your eyes off me."

The admission hung in the air between them, and for a moment, Lilith forgot everything—the Duvall sisters, the High Council, even the looming threat of Oberon. All that mattered was the heat of Ronan's body so close to hers, the way his golden eyes seemed to burn right through her, making her skin tingle with awareness.

Her hands flexed at her sides, the urge to touch him, to feel his skin against hers, overwhelming her for the briefest moment. But she shoved the feeling down, clamping a lid on it with an iron will.

"Is that supposed to intimidate me?" she asked, her voice softer now, edged with something darker.

Ronan's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "No, Lilith. That's supposed to warn you."

Before she could respond, his hand shot out, catching her wrist and pulling her against him. The contact sent a shockwave of electricity through her body, and her breath caught in her throat as their bodies collided, his chest pressed against hers. She could feel the raw power in his frame, the tension coiled tight in his muscles, ready to explode.

"You can keep running," Ronan growled, his voice low, barely more than a breath against her ear, "but we both know what's going on here."

Lilith's heart hammered in her chest, and for a split second, she wanted to give in, to let the current of desire sweep her away. But she wouldn't. She couldn't.

Her lips curved into a smile, sharp and defiant. "You think you know me, Ronan?"

In one swift motion, she twisted free of his grip and stepped back, putting just enough space between them to regain control. The air between them sizzled with tension, but Lilith held her ground, refusing to let him see how much he affected her.

Ronan's golden eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and something else—something far more dangerous. But before either of them could speak again, the door to the study creaked open, and Maeve stepped in, her disdainful gaze flicking between them.

"If you two are done with this part of your foreplay," she said, her tone dry, "we have a plan to figure out."

Lilith shot her a sharp look, but Maeve's expression remained unreadable, as if she'd been watching this back-and-forth between Lilith and Ronan for far too long. Still, the moment broke whatever spell had been building between them, and Lilith turned away, her pulse still racing, her skin still buzzing from Ronan's touch.

Following Maeve as she led them to where the sisters had gathered, Ronan noted that none of their mates were present. "I hope this isn't a girls' only club."

"Hardly," snorted Maeve. "The girls are drained and exhausted. The boys have gone out on patrol to let them rest, but my nieces don't know the meaning of that word so here we are plotting our next step."

As they gathered round the table, Lilith could feel the tension between them—all of them—had shifted. It wasn't just between her and Ronan anymore. It was in the air, thick and electric, laced with the unspoken fear of what lay ahead and the undeniable pull of the dangerous attraction between them.

Lilith forced herself to focus as Phoenix began to lay out their strategy. She tried to focus on the task at hand, but every time she glanced at Ronan from the corner of her eye, her pulse quickened, her thoughts wandering to the way his body had felt pressed against hers just moments ago.

The Duvall sisters, Ronan, and Lilith sat around the grand oak table in the center of the mansion's library. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of magical wards flickering around the edges of the walls, but the atmosphere was thick with tension. Catalina was speaking, her voice low and commanding as she laid out the plan to face Oberon's forces, but Lilith found it hard to concentrate with Ronan standing so close, his presence a constant reminder of the unresolved tension that still simmered between them. He seemed to sense that and got up, stretched and moved over against a far wall.

"…we can't face him head-on," Catalina said, her sharp gaze cutting across the room. "Oberon's magic is too powerful. We'll need to disrupt his network first, hit him where he's weakest—his supporters."

Lilith nodded absently, her mind still running through the events of the past few hours. Her loyalty to the Fae High Council had been stretched thin before, but now it was crumbling entirely. Oberon had made it clear that he wasn't just after the Duvalls; he had his sights set on something much larger. She could feel the threads of a larger conspiracy weaving around her, pulling her into a web of deceit and danger that went far beyond the job to which she'd been assigned.

And then, there was Ronan. His golden eyes tracked her every move, his presence like a fire burning too close to her skin. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze never leaving hers—his stare made her heart race and her body betray her in ways she hated to admit.

She couldn't afford this. She couldn't afford him. But the more she fought it, the stronger the pull between them became, drawing them closer with every breath.

Before she could dwell on it further, the air around them shifted.

A sudden jolt of magic surged through the room, a sharp, electric crackle that set every hair on Lilith's body standing on end. The sisters felt it too—Phoenix's eyes widened in alarm, Savannah gasped, and Geneva's hand flew to the ancient wards encircling the walls.

"Shit! We're under attack," snarled Phoenix as the mansion's defenses shook violently and then crumbled.

"What the fuck?" snarled Savannah. "We have got to put more oomph into our wards."

Maeve nodded. "This is the second time they haven't held."

The wards shattered like glass, sending sparks flying through the room as an ear-splitting screech filled the air. Acrid smoke billowed into the mansion, thick and suffocating, obscuring their vision as dark shapes slithered through the broken defenses. The sound of magic crackling and fire igniting filled the air, and Lilith's instincts kicked into high gear.

Without hesitation, Lilith drew her blade, her magic flaring to life as she positioned herself in front of the sisters, her senses on high alert. Out of the haze, figures emerged—dark, shadowy creatures summoned by ancient, corrupted magic. Their forms twisted and contorted as they advanced, claws slashing through the air, eyes gleaming with malice.

Lilith spun, her blade slicing cleanly through one of the creatures, the steel glowing with a faint blue light as it cut through the smoky form. But more came, too many to count. She unleashed her magic in a wave, sending a bolt of energy crashing into the advancing horde, but the creatures absorbed the blast, their bodies reforming within seconds.

"We need to regroup," Phoenix barked, her own magic flaring as she sent a torrent of flames spiraling through the room, catching several of the creatures in a burning inferno.

But the attack was relentless.

Lilith felt a surge of heat at her side and turned just in time to see Ronan shift into his sabretooth form, his massive body launching forward with a primal roar. He tore through the creatures with savage efficiency, his claws slashing through them as if they were nothing but smoke. His movements were quick, brutal, but controlled, and Lilith couldn't help but feel the strange sense of synchronization between them.

As if they had been fighting side by side for years.

Lilith slashed at another creature, her blade glowing as she sent a pulse of magic into its chest. It dissipated into a cloud of smoke, and she turned just in time to see Ronan take down another attacker, their movements mirroring each other in perfect rhythm. Every step, every strike, every shift in their bodies was in sync, as though their magic—and their instincts—were connected on a deeper level. She had never fought like this with anyone, and she hated how natural it felt.

Another wave of creatures surged forward. Lilith and Ronan moved in tandem, their bodies dancing through the smoke, blades and claws cutting through the chaos. She could feel the pulse of his power beside her, wild and untamed, yet it fit perfectly with her own. It was like they were two parts of a whole, their magic feeding off each other, strengthening with every attack.

By the time the last creature fell, disintegrating into a cloud of ash, the room was silent, save for the crackling of dying flames. The caustic smell of smoke and magic hung heavy in the air, but the attack was over.

For now.

Lilith stood still, her chest heaving, sweat glistening on her skin. Her blade was still drawn, the faint blue glow fading as she lowered it, but her eyes were locked on Ronan. He stood a few feet away, his chest rising and falling with the same heavy breath, his golden eyes gleaming in the aftermath.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the space between them crackling with the unresolved tension that had only grown stronger during the fight. They had worked together seamlessly, as if they had been doing this for years, but the air was still thick with the danger of something far more powerful between them.

Lilith's pulse raced as Ronan stepped forward, his hand reaching out to brush a lock of her hair back from her face. His fingers were gentle, but the touch sent a bolt of heat through her, her body responding to him in ways she didn't want to acknowledge.

"You're hurt," he said softly, his voice low and rough, his golden eyes scanning her face.

"And you're naked," she said and corrected that with a flick of her wrist. After all, there were a bunch of other female fae around, and they didn't need to be looking at him.

She was fine. The cuts and bruises she had sustained were nothing. But it wasn't the wounds on her body that left her feeling vulnerable. It was the way Ronan looked at her, the way his presence wrapped around her like a vice, tightening with every second.

She met his gaze, her breath hitching as he stepped closer, his body mere inches from hers now. His hand slid to her waist, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of her shirt, and for a moment, Lilith forgot how to breathe. Every muscle in her body tensed, but not with fear—with desire. The pull between them was stronger now, undeniable, and she was done fighting it.

Lilith closed her eyes, her breath shaky as Ronan leaned in, his lips brushing against her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. The barriers between them crumbled, all the walls she had built up over the centuries falling away in the face of this undeniable connection.

"Damn you," she whispered, but there was no venom in her voice.

Ronan's lips curved into a wry smile, his breath warm against her skin. "I thought you liked a challenge."

And then, before she could respond, his mouth was on hers, and the world fell away. Somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind, Lilith knew they weren't alone, but suddenly it didn't seem very important.

The kiss was fierce, filled with all the pent-up desire and frustration that had been building between them since the moment they met. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, and she melted into him, her body responding to his touch with a need she couldn't deny any longer. She kissed him back just as fiercely, her fingers tangling in his hair as she gave in to the fire that burned between them.

For the first time, she let herself feel— truly feel —the connection between them. It was raw, dangerous, and terrifying, but it was also electric, setting her skin alight with sensation.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their eyes locked on each other, the importance of what had just happened hanging between them.

Lilith stepped back, her heart racing, her mind spinning. She had crossed a line, a line she hadn't even realized existed until now. And the worst part?

She wanted more.

But before Lilith could say anything to Ronan, Phoenix's voice cut through the silence that had seemed to have surrounded her and Ronan. Phoenix's tone was sharp. "We need to regroup. This isn't over."

Lilith tore her gaze from Ronan, her mind still reeling from the kiss, the fight, and everything that had come with it. But as she turned to face the sisters, she knew one thing for sure.

Phoenix was right; this was far from over.