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I knew the truth—that I’d give anything, any limb, any life, any realm, to bring Arwen back. That I would shear the skin from my own bones, tear the world to pulp to hold her in my arms even just one more time—
“Shh.” His words muffled against me. Those lips. That dark, bearded chin. “My love,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
“If I go to you…If I hold you…” His voice broke on the word and I began to cry in earnest. “Arwen…” His next words were said so low, his tormented expression was the only proof I’d not imagined them. “It will break me.”
“Come here,” I whispered, scooting to the side carefully. “And I will put you back together.”
“Easy,” he said, voice husky and low, though I could feel his lips grinning against mine. “Let me take my time with you.”
“I’m here. You’re here, and we’re together,” he mumbled, rocking his hips a little as if he weren’t fully in control. “Arwen, I love you. I’m here.”
Had I bypassed Acorn’s squawking and hurtled into the hallway with nothing but a decorative pillow to cover myself, dark-winged lighte surging from my bare shoulders and arms, and roared at the guard on duty to tell me that instant where the fuck my wife was—even though Arwen was not my wife and I’d never seen the shaking kid before? Yes, yes, and…yes.
“It kills me, bird, that I cannot promise you any of it. All I can promise you is myself—my love, my respect, my devotion—every day that we have together, and every day that exists beyond then.” Kane’s eyes gleamed. “In life, in death, my soul is yours. Arwen, will you be my wife?”
revealed the sparkling crown. Dimples in full effect. “I had it made for you.” “When?” We’d been a little busy. “After I had more fun trapped inside a wine cellar than I’d had in two hundred years of living.”
“Please,” she begged, and my heart ripped from itself. “Forgive me,” I murmured, pulling her close, feeling consciousness slip from her. Smelling honeysuckle and orange blossom for the last time. “I love you. I’ll love you wherever I am, whatever I am. Always.”
