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His shoulders inched back. “Course I did.”

Emotions flitted across her face, too fast for him to process, until finally, she grasped his head and planted one on him.

Her kiss said more than words ever could. He kissed her back, his own emotions rising to choke him. That one kiss banished every ache and pain, all his fear and heartache. His Bride was back in his arms, and he was never letting her go.

“Sir?”

“Mmm.”

“Excuse me.”

“Mmm.”

“Sir, our payment?”

Liam tore himself away from Vivian’s lips and twisted his head, snarling, “Having a moment here, asshole.” Then he flipped the dagger in his hand and extended it to the head priest, hilt first.

The cloaked male was all too eager to relieve him of his promised payment. Liam watched as another hooded figure stepped forward, his manner less subdued than the others. When he reached for the soul sword, a gold ring glinted on the male’s pinky finger. Without another word, the monk strode down a darkened hallway, robes swishing, an odd swagger in his step. Liam frowned, watching his hasty departure.

When he’d contacted the temple, the head priest had done a good job, assuring Liam there was no soul-eating monster at the bottom of the well. In fact, he’d sworn to his gods only peace awaited those who were trapped in the stone. Still, for some reason, it didn’t sit right watching that monk strut away with the goods.

Vivian claimed Liam’s attention as she took in her surroundings. “You brought me to the Well of Souls?”

“That’s right.” He helped her sit up. Seeing her alive and whole banished all thoughts of the priest’s behavior.

“Goddess save me,” she squawked. “I’ve been mummified. Get me out of this stuff.” She kicked her bare feet, shimming out of the muslin wrapped around her legs.

Once free, she hopped off the altar, turned, and gave it a glare.

He felt the same. “No more altars?”

“No more altars,” she agreed.

At the sight of Vivian’s curvy body in a pair of lacy drawers and a camisole, sounds of shock and muttered indignation rolled through the group.

Before Vivian made them abandon their vows, Liam saluted the gathering of monks. “Pleasure doing business with you, fellas.” Then he turned to his Bride. “Ready to get the hell out of here?”

“So ready.”

He guided her out the doors to the top of the stairway. From up there, it looked as if the steps were never-ending. Felt the same on the way up.

“You’re kidding,” she scoffed, eyeing the steep descent.

He hitched a shoulder. “Stairs are the only way in or out unless you want to take your chances with the waterfall. Pool at the bottom is rumored to stretch all the way through the earth’s core and come out the other side.”

“Guess it gives all new meaning to the term infinity pool,” she teased, her tone dry and full of sass.

Hips swishing, she stalked to the opposite edge of the temple walkway and looked down. Then she grinned back at him, mischief gleaming in her eyes. “The water looks crystal blue at the bottom.”

He cocked a brow. He’d just gotten her back. No way he was risking her life again. “Viv, you were just resurrected. Thinking we should play it safe and take the stairs.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure? Do you want to live forever?”

His chest ached. “With you, yes.”

Her expression softened, love shimmering in her eyes. “If we’re going to spend eternity together, we’ll need to keep things interesting.”

He tensed. “Now, Viv, hold up a minute. I carried you up here. I can certainly carry you—”