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“As long as there is life in my veins, I will defend what is mine. We have our strengths, and I do not diminish yours. Pick your battles, little Storm.” He paused, reaching out as if to touch my face before he refrained. “For there are some you’ll never win against me.”
“No part of me is here with you because we have a child. She’s the perfect miraculous bonus to this equation, but a child is never enough to make a true mate bond. Furthermore, you will not be dying in two hundred years, or any years. I have magics and knowledge to keep you alive, and that’s exactly what I’ll do. End of fucking story.”
“I promise,” he continued, “to not allow your insecurities to break us before we have a chance. I might have only just found you, Sam, but I’m already certain about one thing: you are mine.” Mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine.
“Heroes are overrated. Too many rules. Too many people to care about. We have our pack and the rest of the world be damned. Those outside the pack only benefit when saving the world saves them too. Otherwise, they’re not my responsibility.”
“WinterStorm. Since both of you have a reason to embrace the storms in your life, and the beauty of your bond.”