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Nevertheless, I couldn’t tell her that, considering that would only disclose to her everything Margot was currently experiencing.

“What makes you think I don’t want you to remind me that I’m still alive?” Willow asked, the gentleness of those words conflicting with the heat of her stare.

“You’re grieving,” I said, shaking my head in denial. I wouldn’t take advantage of her.

Not like this.

The moisture in her eyes finally gave way, her face twisting. It left me with no choice except to surge forward into the shower, gathering her in my arms. The water soaked my clothes, making them cling to my skin as Willow wrapped her arms around my neck. She yanked me down to her height, capturing my mouth with her own.

It was a gentle demand; her need for touch communicated in the frantic grip of her fingers at my nape.

I stripped my shirt off, tossing it to the bathroom floor behind me. The squelching noise didn’t force me to take my lips away from my wife, refusing to sever our connection as I unbuckled my belt and shoved my pants down my thighs.

I separated from her only long enough to peel the wet fabric from my calves, kicking them and my boxer briefs to the corner of the shower. Willow lifted one of her legs in tune with me as I grasped behind her thigh, using that grip to lift her into my arms and guide her to the opposite corner. She braced a single foot on the ledge meant for shaving, offering support as she guided a single hand between our bodies.

There was no preamble or foreplay as she guided my cock to her entrance, shifting her hand out of the way so that I could push inside her. Her forehead rested against mine, her breathing turning ragged as I stretched her open for me.

Willow clung to me as if her life depended on it, as if her very being needed the reminder that I was real.

Her breath tangled with mine, and I knew I would never take a single one of those breaths for granted. Her heart pumped against my chest, her pulse thumping in tune with my own. I felt every beat of that heart within me, striking deep into the Source with the pull of destiny.

“I love you,” Willow murmured, her words spoken tenderly against my lips. She kissed me as I thrusted within her, her body opening for me to make love to the woman I’d almost lost.

“Witchling,” I moaned, the magic of the reds coating my skin. Willow cupped my face in her hands, her eyes flashing with the power of the Source as she stared down at me.

“I choose you, every day,” she said. Those words were all the reassurance of everything I’d ever wanted to hear.

Everything I needed to be at peace.

I devoured her mouth with mine, angling my head to kiss her long and deep. I moved within her with slow, languid strokes, bringing her to pleasure and giving her the reminder we both sought when we finally climaxed as one.

We were here. We were together.

We were home.

CHAPTER 47

WILLOW

Iwoke slowly, the faintest memory of my dreams clinging to me as the sunlight of mid-morning streamed in through the windows. My body felt far too tired as I pushed myself to sit, finding Gray seated in a chair in the bedroom. His eyes were watchful as I moved, observing each and every ache that came from the exhaustion only a depletion of my magic could cause.

The dagger had taken too much from me, and then the seal had taken what remained. However, I felt the Source moving within me, attempting to replenish what had been lost.

Gray set his book to the side, standing slowly. His chest was bare, only a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. He moved to the dresser, grabbing the tray with fruits and fresh vegetables, and placing it before me on the bed.

My gaze dropped to that maze I'd burned into his chest when I marked him as mine, wondering for a moment if I'd ever really marked him at all. The labyrinth was the physical reality of the Source itself, a symbol of the power flowing through me due to my bloodline.

What Charlotte had begun would end with my daughter--our daughter, I forced myself to think.

He was just as much a part of this destiny as I was.

Gray sat on the edge of the bed, stretching across the distance between us to cup my cheek in his hand tenderly. "How do you feel?" he asked, and I urged myself to push aside my thoughts and focus on my body.

Besides the fatigue and random aches, nothing of concern ailed me physically. "I'll be fine," I said, evading the real question.

That hollow well inside of me, the place where all my loss gathered, had another soul resting within it. One I was determined to get back.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," he said, his face soft despite the harshness of his words.