Ryder POV

I watch Jolie sleep, light pulsing faintly beneath her skin with each breath.

She's been out for three hours now, exhausted from dealing with Morrison and reading through the war crime files Blackwell left. Even in sleep, she can't fully dim the moonfire. It bleeds through like she's made of stars instead of flesh.

I hate it.

Not the power itself, I've always known my mate was extraordinary. But I hate what it's costing her. The constant demands, the political games, the way everyone ...