Page 267 of Intense

Stephanie and I press our palms together, blades poised.

“We bleed for each other.”

We cut a shallow line across our skin. I take her hand and lick the blood from her palm. She does the same to mine.

As the priest announces us husband and wife, I crash my lips to hers. One hand locked around her throat.

I kiss her with everything I am. Everything I’ll ever be. Everything she’s healed inside me.

A love like this burns eternal.

And I vow to spend every day of my life making sure my wife knows she saved me. That she brought me back to life. And that I would die for her.

She is my purpose. My fucking world.

Our love is intense. Some might say it’s crazy. But, it’s perfect, and it’s ours.

Forever.

THE END.

Epilogue

STEPHANIE

Iknow he’s behind me before I even look. But I can’t. Because before I can even turn, my stomach wrenches and I’m throwing up into the toilet again.

This time, when it’s over, I actually feel lighter. I sit back on the cold floor, breathless, and Finn is already there, rubbing slow circles into my back.

“You okay, love?” he asks, lowering himself beside me on the tiles like he belongs there.

“I’ve been better. Do you think it was the fish? But you aren’t sick?”

I press the back of my hand to my forehead. I’m not sweaty. Not feverish. Just… off.

Finn chuckles, that dark sound that always carries a secret, and lays his palm against my stomach.

“No. I don’t think it was anything you ate. I think it’s something I put inside of you.”

I swallow hard, fighting the sting of tears.

“You’re late, temptress. Three days, if my calculations are correct.”

“I’m pregnant?” The words come out broken, almost a hiccup.

I shoved that thought so far back, I almost convinced myself it wasn’t possible. I didn’t want the disappointment. I should have known better. I should have trusted Finn. His obsession with tracking me, my body, my cycles. When he wants something, he always gets it. And what he’s wanted—what we’ve both wanted—is a baby.

He pulls me up from the floor, steadying me with his hands around my waist, grounding me in his arms.

“I hope you’re right, Finn.” My voice is barely a whisper.

His face softens, that hard mask of his cracking, and he presses a kiss into my hair.

“So do I.”

He grabs a bottle of water and presses it into my hand. His eyes flicker with that dual edge of care and control.

“Are you well enough to host the Decadence Trials? I can start without you.”