The heavy scent of old leather, rich bourbon, and Julian’s intoxicating rain-and-ozone pheromones hung suspended in the dimly lit space of his private study. It was nearly two in the morning, the night before the historic Lunar Eclipse Summit, and the tension inside the Obsidian Fortress was coiled so tight it felt like a wire about to snap under the pressure.
I stood near the grand floor-to-ceiling windows, my fingers lightly tracing the cool, dark volcanic stone of the frame. Outside, the silver moonlight cut through the thick clouds, casting sharp, jagged reflections across the wild ocean waves crashing hundreds of feet below the cliffs. To anyone watching, I looked like a peaceful, contemplative bride-to-be, lost in the romance of the quiet night.
In reality, every single cell in my
