Twenty years had passed since the Shadow Wars ended, and Laura Ravenwood—no, Laura the Crimson Queen—slept peacefully in her chambers for the first time in months.

The room was warm, filled with the steady breathing of her four mates surrounding her. Lucian lay to her right with his arm draped protectively across her waist even in sleep. Dante was pressed against her back, his face buried in her hair. Zephyr occupied the space at her feet like he always did, claiming he preferred the cooler air there. And Nikolai had somehow ended up half on top of her, one leg thrown over hers in that possessive way he had even...