Page 320 of Cursed Evermore

We explored the island for the rest of the day, then each other the instant night fell. That's how we spent the next few days, neither of us mentioning the worries that awaited us, nor our curses. We were two people in love, and he was the pulse beneath my skin, the beat in my heart, the breath in my lungs.

I updated my journal every chance I got, trying to capture every moment and hold on to every last memory.

But then it was time to stop. Stop writing. Stop escaping. Stop pretending.

I felt the shift in the air when the new moon neared. Just like that night when the Phantom Moon rose, it thrummed through my bones and whispered to my soul. But this was a promise of loss.

Wolfe had a sleeping potion prepared for me. It was a kinder way to drift away, a small mercy to soothe the pain of the curse, but there was nothing kind about what awaited me on the other side.

"Ziyka." Wolfe brushed the underside of my jaw.

We lay together in the bed. I was cocooned in his arms and he held me close to his heart, like he never wanted to let me go.

"Yes," I breathed, clinging to his shirt.

"We have ten minutes."

"Ten... minutes." My throat tightened. "Wolfe, I... I can't breathe." The words caught in my chest.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered.

"You promise?"

"Always, my love." His lips brushed mine and lingered before he drew back with a waning smile. "And I have one last gift to give you."

My heart lifted, aching. "Oh, Wolfe, you don't have to give me anything more."

"There is one more thing. One more important thing."

He helped me sit at the edge of the bed, then knelt before me, taking my hand in his. His burning eyes were a storm of sadness and hope. "I saved this moment because I want it to be the last thing you remember about us when we find the ring and you get your memories back."

His thumb traced the delicate skin of my inner wrist worshipfully, as if mapping something sacred. "This is the moment I bind my soul to yours," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "The moment I claim you as myVelastra."

The word stirred something deep within me, a secret part of my being that would always belong to him. My lungs constricted as though the air itself had thickened. "Vel... astra?"

His smile was earnest. "It means soul-bonded." His thumb swept a hypnotic pattern over my pulse. "A Nightblade can only do this once in his life."

My heart raced, wild beneath his touch.Only once.The weight of that revelation crashed over me like a storm.Once.Which meant every other woman who had ever caught his eye, every possible love he might have chosen... none of them mattered.

The dark god of the Underworld knelt before me, offering his essence. His eternity.

"Wolfe... me?"

"Always you, Ziyka. Always," he pledged fiercely. "In three hundred years, I've never wanted anything more than I want you. And since I will never let you go, you will wear my soul mark."

His words sank into me, heavy as chains and holy as vows.

Wolfe lifted my wrist higher, cradling it between his hands like something fragile and sacred. Shadows curled low around us, not menacing, but reverent, as if they, too, bore witness to the rite.

"A mun dair, Velastra," he whispered. His lips brushed the inside of my wrist before pressing fully to my skin.

Heat lanced through me, a molten brand searing into my veins. Golden light burst beneath my flesh, twining with black shadow, spiraling up my arm, through my chest, and into my heart.

I gasped, clutching at his shoulders as the light and darkness tangled, coiling tighter until they carved themselves into an inky black sigil.

At its center lay a soul rune, stark and simple. Wrapped around it, a looping band pulled tight and knotted once to bind me fast. At the ends, the loop flared into dragon's wings, curved and fierce.

The mark pulsed, alive, before settling into my skin. Thrumming with my heartbeat. A permanent echo of Wolfe Nightblade inside me. His soul carved into me.