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I walk into the throne room and look at my woman.

Queen Rachel. She sits on the throne, her back straight, her crown on her head. Her leash goes from her collar to the floor. Orr and Kriz are standing behind her, hands near their blades, ready to protect her from anything.

She stares at me, with her bright blue eyes, new determination and strength flowing through her aura.

I walk to her, reaching up, barely able to believe she exists. I unclasp her collar. Her brows furrow.

“I chose this. I wear it proudly,” she says, when I reach into my robes.

Her eyes alight on the golden collar. Solid gold, for a pregnant Mate. It was on the bodies of the Priests that were killed what feels like a lifetime ago, as they waited to present the honor to a pregnant Mate.

Now it is I who clasps it around her neck, linking the chain to my wrist and staring deep into her eyes.

“Ra’al. Come back to me. Come back to me. I’m waiting.” She smiles. “We’re waiting.”

I kiss her, deep, then break it off. “We’re not going anywhere. We will rule by your side. I will never leave you again, my Mate.”

Her eyes flash with surprise, then joy, and I never knew I could love someone so much. I’m here. I’m here, forever, more present than I ever was in battle or mating, standing in front of her as I know I will forever.

Our lips touch, hungrily, happily, and I send the image into her mind, the image I had as I stumbled to meet the War-God, of our babe, happily in the wooden crib, of her walking to him and lifting him with a coo, bringing my son to her breast. He suckles, drinking deep, to grow strong, to be a worthy protector of this throne and planet.

I break off the kiss, and she’s trembling.

“My love, we’ll be at your side forever.”

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