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Since there’s nothing I can do but go forward with it, I swallow roughly and take his hand once more. “I’m ready.”

Despite the lingering heat between us, the words betray a small edge of uncertainty. And, as I’m learning about my husband’s perceptiveness, it doesn’t get by him.

Instead of commenting, he squeezes my fingers in his own and smiles down at me, every hint of earlier sensuality traded in for steady comfort. “I’m going to lift you into my arms.”

I nod, and he moves, hefting me up against him. My legs clamp around his waist, my arms around his neck, careful of where his wings connect to his powerful shoulders.

His arms settle around me like iron bands. “When we step in, it’s going to be… intense. I want you to hold on to me tightly. If you feel yourself slipping, let me know.”

“What happens if I fall?”

“You won’t fall,” he promises with absolute certainty.

“What if—”

“Nothing will happen to you, Allie.”

I’d been staring over his shoulders into the shifting light of the Veil, but at his serious tone I draw my attention back to him. Eren holds my gaze with a soul-deep steadfastness that makes the backs of my eyes prick.

“Do you trust me?”

I nod, suddenly out of words, as a fresh wave of nerves hits me.

“Tell me, Allie,” he commands. “Tell me you trust me.”

“I trust you, Eren,” I whisper, and lean forward to catch his mouth in a gentle kiss.

It’s so different from the two we’ve shared before. Eren lets his lips relax, lets them mold to mine, and when his tongue presses forward to dance with my own, it’s a gentle reassurance rather than a provocation.

“Allison Amethyst Ashblood,” Eren breathes, pulling back slightly. “I promise to see you safely to my realm.”

Some dim part of me chafes against the fact that I never told him I’d take his last name, but it’s a quiet voice, drown out completely by the thrill of his claim and the trust I now place in him.

“Let’s go, then,” I whisper, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

Chapter 6

Eren

Allison Amethyst Ashblood is a revelation.

Warm and trusting in my arms, I can’t help but pause to savor the feel of her there for a few long moments. She’s soft, so achingly soft, and fits perfectly into all the contours of my body like she was always meant to be there. Like she was always meant to be mine.

Did she accept my surname? I don’t know, but I’ve given it to her all the same. She’ll fight me on it, I’m sure, if it’s not something she wants.

I have absolutely no doubt my bride is more than capable of pushing back against me when she needs to. Even in the short time we’ve known one another, I’ve watched her conquer her fear again and again, watched her accept this blessing from the Goddess with a natural-born grace and a spine made of iron.

She’ll have me, but it will be on her own terms. She’ll accept this pronouncement from the Goddess, but not without making me earn every inch I take from her. With each stubborn, courageous step forward, I understand a little more about my witch.

The Veil looms before us. Wrapping my arms tighter around my wife, I lean in to speak against her ear.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“And if you think you’re slipping?”

“I’ll tell you.”