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“I’ve been courting you, Luna,” I say plainly, steadily. “Openly. Deliberately. And I told myself I would never rush you. Never take more than you’re ready to give.” I lift the book, holding it like the sacred thing it is. “But this… this is the momentyouanswered me.”

She’s looking at me now like I’m something ancient and burning and brand new all at once.

“I didn’t know,” she whispers.

“I did,” I answer. “And I would’ve waited a hundred years more for you to do it.”

The wind curls between us, soft, catching her curls and lifting them just slightly, like even the air wants to touch her. I want to step closer. I want to press my hand to her cheek and feel the warmth there. I want to ask her if she’ll let me kiss her yet—but I don’t. Instead, I tuck the book into my coat, close to my heart, and reach for her hand instead. Just that. My fingers brushing hers.

“Let’s keep walking,” I murmur. “We’ve already begun something.”

I’m not one to shy away from the inevitable. I don’t play at affection. Don’t circle what I want like it might vanish if I reach for it. I’ve lived too long, watched too many centuries decay into ash, to pretend there’s time to waste.

She knows I love her.

It isn’t subtle. It never was. I made it known with every deliberate glance, every touch of her name on my tongue like it was stitched into my soul. I told her in the language of patience—how I never rushed her, never demanded. But I also told her in the silences, in the way I stayed close when she didn’t want to be touched, and closer still when she did.

And now, here we are. The garden curling around us like it knows what’s coming. She gave me a gift—handmade, personal, vulnerable—and she didn’t know what it meant. But I do. And soI turn to face her, fully, my body angled toward hers like she’s the axis of the world. I hold her gaze. I let her feel the gravity of this.

“You’ve answered my courtship, Luna,” I say softly, without ceremony. “The gift you gave me… you may not know what it meant, but I do. And I think, on some level,youdo too.”

Her brows knit, lashes fluttering just once before her lips part around a nervous breath. “Orin…”

“I’m not asking for what you aren’t ready to give,” I say, stepping closer, close enough that I can see the golden thread of magic flickering along her collarbone. “But Iamasking. Will you bond with me?”

She stares at me like I’ve just tilted the world off its axis. “Wait,” she says, blinking again. “Wait, what—like now?”

Her voice pitches higher at the end, and if she weren’t standing in front of me looking impossibly beautiful with her wet hair curling against her jaw and the scent of soap still clinging to her skin, I might laugh.

But I don’t. Because this is everything.

My lips twitch into a slow smile. I take another step forward until the air between us is warm, crackling. “There’s no altar,” I murmur. “No blood or fire. Nothing dramatic. Just yes or no. Just you and me.”

She swallows hard, her throat working, and I reach up, brushing my knuckles against her cheek. Lightly. Barely there. But her breath hitches, her body sways. She leans in, not even realizing she’s doing it.

I let my fingers trail to her jaw, tilting her chin up so she meets my eyes again. “If you’re not ready, Luna,” I say, quiet now, intimate, “then I will wait. As long as it takes. But if you are… if there’s even the smallest part of you that wants to say yes—don’t run from it.”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away. Just looks at me like the world’s cracking open again and she’s not sure whether she wants to step through or burn it down.

“I didn’t think you’d ask,” she whispers, voice fraying at the edges. “Not like this.”

“I didn’t think you’d give me something of yourself so freely,” I reply. “Yet here we are. And Luna…” My thumb traces the corner of her mouth. “Iwantyou. Entirely. Your soul. Your magic. Your loyalty. And I’ll give you the same. Every piece of me. Every dark, ancient, cursed piece.”

Her chest rises with a breath she doesn’t seem to know she’s holding. “What happens if I say yes?”

I smile then—slow, knowing, reverent. “Then I belong to you.”

Her breath catches again. Her lips part. But she still hasn’t answered.

So I wait.

And for the first time in a thousand years, I feel like I might not survive the answer.

Luna

The stone path curves beneath our boots, the gravel whispering like it’s been waiting centuries for this conversation to ruin me.

He hasn’t said anything since he asked. Bond with me. Three words. Quiet, deliberate. Not a question. Not exactly a command. He said it like it was already written somewhere—something old and holy, inevitable.