She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.
A slow song started. And with it, the hush of anticipation. Lillith looked over at him.
“Ready?”
He stood, holding his hand out. “For the rest of my life.”
They stepped onto the grassy clearing. The lanterns above glowed brighter, casting gold on her skin and shadows across his jaw. The music wrapped around them, soft and spell-sweet.
Dominic swayed with her in his arms, her cheek brushing his collarbone. Her dress whispered against the earth, and he felt the pulse of her soul against his chest.
“It’s strange,” she said, voice barely audible. “How it feels even deeper now.”
“Because we chose it,” he murmured. “And I’m marking you tonight.”
She looked up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “I waited because it felt right. But now?—”
“Now I’m yours,” she whispered.
“And I’m yours,” he answered.
They weren’t tethered by force anymore. No magic chain. No curse.
Just love. Steady. True. Fierce enough to level realms.
And as the dance continued, under floating lanterns and moonlight woven by their friends, Dominic didn’t feel like a man who had survived a war.
He felt like a man who had finally found peace. And tonight he was going to claim what was rightfully his.
37
LILLITH
Lillith closed the cottage door behind them with the softest push, sealing out the hum of the reception—the laughter, the clink of glasses, the joyous chaos of friends and family who’d spent the evening celebrating what they’d become.
Whatshehad become.
Her fingers lingered on the doorframe, grounding herself. Not from nerves—but from the magnitude of it all. And when she turned around, he was already there.
Dominic stood in the heart of their home, half-wild, half-undone—shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His tawny hair was tousled from wind and dancing, those golden eyes still burning like embers through smoke.
He looked at her like the night hadn’t just ended, but like everything was finally about tobegin.
The fire cracked behind him, painting his golden-brown skin in shifting light. He was still wearing the obsidian ring she’d slipped onto his finger beneath the arch. That same hand flexed open and closed like he was holding back something feral. Hungry.
“You’re quiet,” he said, voice low, smoke-soft.
“I’m… thinking,” she murmured.
He stepped closer. “Good things?”
She nodded, throat tight. “Dangerous things. Big things. All the ways I didn’t think I’d survive long enough to feel this.”
Dominic reached for her, slow and reverent, even now asking permission.
She gave it with her body. Her mouth. Her magic.
