Page 109 of His Atonement
"I'm sorry I cried,” Frankie whispers, another tear sliding over her sunkissed skin. "That was just super intense and so beautiful…"
I lean down and kiss her softly, kiss her with my eyes open because I will not miss one second of this. "No need for apologies, darling. It was very intense and extremely beautiful. Your tears change nothing."
"God, I love you.” She leans up and kisses me once, twice, a hundred times. "You know that, right?"
"I do.” I bring her hands down, wrap them around my neck then cage her head between my forearms. "I know without question, without doubt, that you love me just as I know I love you the same."
Frankie kisses me again, over and over, as I flatten my body on top of hers, trying to burn the feeling of us skin to skin, completely wrapped up in each other into my mind for all time.
Gods, how I love her.
Gods, how I hate that this is the end.
We lay there for what feels like hours, kissing, holding each other, my mate silently crying periodically.
It is beautiful and tragic all at once, moments I'm both grateful for and angry at The Maker for causing.
It is only fitting I suppose. Demons were never really meant to find their mates, only gifted the opportunity in order to try to save our dying breed.
Love was never factored in, the mate bond never expected to be so intense.
Gifting demons with the promise of a mate was merely a way to encourage procreation if it happened, and I imagine even The Maker assumed we would not fall in love, would feel nothing at all but the primal urge to rut until life was created.
No one expected a demon to actually feel the emotions we've never understood; therefore, giving one a mate like mine would not matter.
How could a demon be heartbroken over the loss of their mate when they are incapable of love at all?
It only makes sense that I would be able to feel that and so much more, to find a love so deep it knows no bounds, then have it taken from me in such a short period of time because I am demon.
I am cold.
Calculating.
Heartless. Soulless.
Selfish. Undeserving.
A monster.
It is but another cruel joke on my hollow existence; to give me a taste of the most precious love one can receive only to have it taken away and destroyed in the end.
Cruel and twisted, most heartless bitch The Maker, The Creator of Life, turned out to be.
"Can we go over my list one more time?" My mate breaks through my thoughts as she holds me harder. "I know we've been over it twice already but—"
"You need to do it a third time so it feels right.” I smile down at her, pushing her hair from her eyes. "Yes, my darling girl, we can review your list one more time. Shall I retrieve Thor now or afterward?"
"Now, please.” Frankie gives me a watery smile. "I want him with us."
I nod and very reluctantly remove myself from her delicious body, the loss something I feel much heavier than I should, then silently pad my way to the pigpen where our baby plays happily, oblivious to everything that is about to transpire.
When I return, Frankie is sitting up in our bed, her notebook on her lap, her skin sparkling, hair a beautiful mess of kinky curls, Nic Cage peeking out from behind her back.
A vision of unmatched beauty, sheer and utter perfection.
Thor squeals as he wiggles in my hands, the little porker attempting to get to his mummy before I'm even close enough, and for some reason that saddens me further.
How do I explain to apigthat the woman who adopted him, the one who has shown him so much love and adoration, is gone and never coming back?
