But he hadn’t been there. They’d left a message with his apprentice. Hopefully this was the answer.
“It was,” Malcolm said.
“And?”
“It’s fine. Death broke the curse, but I’d already learned the skills required to be a warlock. Hence, I keep the power. He said that some warlocks believe you’re more powerful after death. It’s a transition. A magnifying glass.”
Her brows rose. “Wow. That makes sense though. You have to refuel your power so much less often, even when I siphon some off you for my own use.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “Which you’re welcome to do anytime you like.”
She grinned and pressed another kiss to his mouth, squeezing the shoulder that bore her tattoo.
She couldn’t get enough of kissing him now that he was back with her. The last month and a half had been divine. They’d settled into their routine—which wasn’t very routine at all—and it was like slipping into a comfortable chair.
A sexy, comfortable chair.
“Have you brought the gift for Inara?” she asked.
He nodded and held up the bag. “Good. We’ll put it with the others. And the turkey should be done soon?”
“Twenty more minutes.” He’d started cooking from scratch lately instead of using his magic, and she couldn’t wait to see how the turkey came out.
“Perfect.” Her grin was so big that it hurt her face. Fates, she loved this life. It was more than she’d ever hoped for.
“You know you’re everything to me, right?” he asked. His golden gaze was intense, devouring. It made her shiver.
She was damned grateful for what fate had finally given her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and met his gaze. “I love you—”
“More than life.” He finished her sentence for her. It’d become their thing, and though it was a bit morbid, it suited them. Because she did love him more than life, as he did her. And that’s what had saved them.
