<h4>Chapter 136: Lyre: Sight</h4>
<strong>LYRE</strong>
More knocks.
The bliss of orgasm has already faded, and Aaron tugs his boxers on swiftly. Thankfully, he isn’t one of those men who’dy there dazed for hours after even a brief burst of arcana.
The muscle in his jaw ticks as he watches me yank my shirt down over my hips. It barely covers what it needs to—just enough to maintain the illusion of modesty, which has never been my strong suit anyway.
Another sharp knock at the door. Owen has zero patience and even less consideration for what he’s interrupting.
I slide on my panties, ignoring Aaron’s glower as I move toward the door. His possessiveness radiates off him, hot and aura-dense. He looks ready to lunge between me and whoever’s on the other side.
I roll my eyes. As if he has any im over who sees my body. I could answer the door stark naked if I wanted to.
I don’t, though. Some battles aren’t worth fighting.
When I pull the door open, Owen stands there like judgment incarnate—all broad shoulders and nk expression, exuding an infuriating angelicposure.
"You got it, too?" I ask, not bothering with pleasantries.
He nods once, his silver-gray eyes flickering down to where my shirt stops and my thighs begin. His eyebrows twitch ever so slightly—a microexpression of disapproval he can’t quite suppress.
Typical. Angels are tedious prudes obsessed with other people’s genitals. They’ve got an entire rulebook about who can fuck whom and under what circumstances. Unsanctioned sex with non-Divine-affiliated partners is practically heresy. A "power imbnce," they call it. Morally corrupt. Eternally frowned upon.
Of course, once they <i>do</i> have sex? They’re like fucking bunnies.
Angel sex is divine. Pardon the pun. Definitely would do it again. But the <i>talking</i>... fuck, they’re annoying.
I wonder which section of the celestial handbook covers an Echo Witch getting railed by a Lycan Beta. Probably an entire appendix devoted to this particr sin.
"Thom still needs sleep," I say, cutting directly to logistics and ignoring his silent judgment.
Owen’s posture shifts minutely. "I can keep him asleep in the car."
I pause, weighing our options. With what’s most likely Chaos poking around, we need to move fast. But pushing Thom too hard could burn him outpletely—and a drained wizard would be worse than useless.
His tracking is currently unavable, more or less on pause as he sleeps off the sudden infusion of pure arcana. But it’s unlikely the direction will change much, and Grace and Caine are that way as well.
I nod. "Get everyone ready. We leave in thirty."
He doesn’t argue, but his eyes dart past me to Aaron, who’s standing halfway between the bed and bathroom, radiating territorial wolf energy.
My phone buzzes in my hand. I nce down, scanning Grace’s texts again. There’s also one from Caine.
I look back up at Owen. "Pretty sure Chaos is in the area."
He grunts acknowledgment before turning to walk back toward his room. I lean against the doorframe, watching him retreat down the dingy motel corridor. His shoulders roll with each step, the fluid movement of someone who knows exactly what his body is capable of.
Too bad he’s an angel. Such a nice specimen of man.
"Are you really staring at another man in front of me?" Aaron growls, sounding distinctly put out.
I turn slowly, arching an eyebrow. "Am I not allowed to?"
His face darkens like a thundercloud. He swears viciously under his breath, storms into the bathroom, and ms the door hard enough to rattle the cheap artwork on the wall.
From heaven to hell in only minutes.
He was fine until I opened the door skimpily dressed, of course.
I step back inside and close the door with a sigh. Wolves—so predictably territorial. You give them an orgasm and suddenly they think they own exclusive viewing rights.
A pulse throbs behind my eyes, and the world disappears for a heartbeat. My Sight flickers on without permission—a snapshot of something not quite here and now:
Grace and Caine standing close. A tension between them that’s more than sexual. Something electric. Dangerous. And someone else—a presence I can’t quite make outing toward them. Someone with purpose.
The vision slips away like water through fingers, leaving nothing but uneasy prickles along my spine. The most frustrating part is not knowing when. Could be happening right now. Could be a month from now. Could’ve already happened hours ago, the damage already done.
I rub my forehead, irritation simmering under my skin. Divine interference always gives me migraines.
My thumb swipes over my phone, opening the Divinity App. The interface glows, notifications stacked high in the corner.
I open the messaging section and type:
<strong>[LYRIELLE: You know Bnce is gonna kick you in the ass for this, right?]</strong>
I hit send, though I know better than to expect a response. At least not yet. He likes to keep people on edge. It’s his nature.
A swift response is toofortable for him.
I toss my phone onto the bed and grab my jeans from the floor, yanking them on with more force than necessary.
"Pretentious cosmic assholes," I mutter, shoving my foot through a pant leg. "So many lifetimes of the same tedious script. You’d think at least one of them would y by the fucking rules."
It’s funny how they’ll call me out every time I step in, but whenever something seems interesting enough, they’ll dive in without remorse.
But not when they’re desperately needed. Or wanted.
No, it’s always on their own agenda.
The whole pantheon needs a collective kick in the ass.
The bathroom door opens just as I tug my shirt back down. Aaron stands there, water droplets clinging to his chest, eyes dark and searching. Did he throw himself into cold water to calm his temper?
Seems so.
Adorable.
I ignore him, focusing instead on the task at hand. We have children to protect, Chaos’s interfering hands to smack, and miles to cover before anything happens to Grace.
The game we were ying will have to wait.
The universe has terrible timing. Always has.