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Toward midnight, Tristan and I left his parents’ treehouse and slowly walked over to ours, about two hundred yards north and snugly hidden between other enormous redwoods that had yet to be fitted with homes for more Shadians. Ours was the only residence in a hundred-yard radius, and I loved the thought of such extensive privacy.

Above, the night sky gleamed down at us through the occasional gap in the dark green canopy. Birds sang from their perches, their trills dancing on the air and echoing around us as if the forest itself was celebrating us in its own way. My hand fit perfectly in Tristan’s as we made our way down the path. It was barely a battered trace snaking through the woods, with tall grass and wildflowers rising on both sides.

“You know, if you think about it, nothing seems different about The Shade,” Tristan said. “I mean, look around…”

Indeed, we passed by people coming and going, either from or to the Vale or the Black Heights or Sun Beach, judging by the tans on some of the humans. They were friends and lovers, brothers and sisters, families with children and grandchildren. They belonged to different species, yet they got along perfectly. They went about their evening as though a bunch of clones had never trespassed through The Shade, stealing some of the residents and using never-before-seen weapons of war against the others.

“Like Esme said, there’s no point in losing yourself in fear and despair, right?” he added.

Looking at the couple that walked up a neighboring path, I caught a stolen glance. It was a little wary, reminiscent of the look I’d seen Ariana give Julian during dinner. It didn’t mean much, not considering how many behavioral details were jumping at me now that I was a living creature. I found it overwhelming and difficult to observe and record everything, and yet I couldn’t help it. This was my new nature. “They seem okay,” I replied, my voice low as we kept walking.

A deer broke a twig somewhere nearby. I caught its grassy scent and imagined its big brown eyes scanning us through the nocturnal semi-darkness. What a wonderful experience it was to be alive.

“I imagine they will all switch right back into battle mode if they have to, but for now, they’re staying calm and trying to go on with their lives,” Tristan said, and I nodded my agreement.

“There’s no point in giving yourself an ulcer. You used to say that.”

“I still do,” he chuckled. Our treehouse could be seen again, partially hidden by the other redwoods. “There it is. Home sweet home.”

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, seeing it through mortal eyes for the first time.

“No, you’re beautiful,” he whispered against my lips before dropping a swift kiss. My cheeks flared hot for a moment.

“Thank you, my love. But I mean it. This place, it’s… it’s wonderful,” I insisted, taking a moment to absorb my surroundings.

The house had a different, greater value to me now. The siding was built from elegant pieces of dark oak wood brought over from Calliope and renowned for their architectural integrity and resistance. The roof had been covered with slate gray shingles made of habiri gum wood from Neraka—a peculiar specimen praised for its elasticity and texture, the latter protecting the interior of the house from virtually any form of nature’s wrath. It also made outer sealing an obsolete process. Our treehouse was comfortably warm in the winter without need for much firewood, and exquisitely cool in the summer.

Its windows were wide, the frames painted white against the charcoal wall boards, and Ariana had hung white and yellow daisy curtains in the kitchen. I liked them even more now. I could already imagine myself in the morning, standing up there with a coffee mug in my hand and wondering how my life would continue to unfold. Yes, mortality had a certain magic to it.

Wooden steps had been fitted to spiral the massive redwood trunk, connecting the bottom to the elevated treehouse. Stopping right before we went up, Tristan cupped my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. Time itself seemed to stop as I reveled in the taste of him. The softness of his lips, the slickness of his tongue, these were still new and exhilarating sensations. I’d thought I knew love as a Reaper. I’d thought it was the most intense way to love somebody. But I’d been wrong. Oh, so wrong…

My body responded in ways I had trouble keeping up with, but Tristan knew just what to do, his hands slipping slowly from my face to my hips. He pulled me closer, firmly holding me against his solid frame. My pulse was rolling high, like a tide about to crash into the stony shore in the middle of a summer storm. “The house will come and go—it’ll be dirt and dust someday—but you, my love, are beautiful. Living, Reaper… it doesn’t matter. I love you either way.”

“I love you, too,” I said, trembling in his arms. “This feels… incredible.”

“Mhm, wait till we get to the best part,” Tristan chuckled, whisking me off my feet. He rushed up the stairs, effortlessly bringing us both to the front door. He didn’t need to let go of me, instead pressing his elbow down on the door handle to open it. Inside, a faint scent of lavender hung in the air. I’d left planters in every window, and Ariana had promised to water them in my absence. Even as a Reaper, I’d taken a liking to gardening in times of peace.

“Is this the best part?” I asked, my cheeks ablaze and my heart thundering against his. He shook his head as he carried me into our bedroom and settled me on the bed. The feel of the soft linens against my sweaty palms made me smile, as Tristan stood before me, tall and breathing raggedly. “No, this is,” I said, answering my own question as I unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the ropes of taut muscle beneath.

My husband’s skin was smooth, and I wanted to kiss every inch of it. He was a scholar. A stellar anthropologist who rarely resorted to violence—yet he could absolutely hold his own as a vampire, fiercer even than Esme sometimes. He was a man and a soul with enough strength to move mountains. He had the drive to rearrange the stars themselves, if only someone would give him the magical powers to do so.

But tonight, he was simply my husband, his only task to claim me for the first time as a living creature. We made love between the soft, cool linen sheets. He said my name as we experienced one another, skin on skin, heart to heart, and soul to soul like never before. I cried out his as we climbed the steps to ecstasy, our beings singing and humming, our bodies intertwined and never to be torn apart.

Tonight, Tristan was mine, and I was his, like the bonds of marriage had intended. It felt like a wickedly good start to the life I had envisioned for us. I allowed myself to hope that only the good stuff would follow after this. That nothing the universe would throw at The Shade or at our marriage would damage the exquisite thing we’d just started.

My heart might not be able to bear the disappointment of losing all this, I thought to myself as we held each other beneath the featherdown blanket, our hearts full and our spirits utterly sated. Here, love smelled like lavender.