Page 33

LILLITH

T he air inside the cottage was thick with peace.

It wrapped around the stone walls and drifted lazily through the open windows, where warm morning light filtered through gauzy curtains.

Somewhere in the trees, birds had the audacity to sing like nothing monumental had happened the night before.

Like the world hadn’t almost become chaos and healed itself at their fingertips.

Lillith stirred beneath the enchanted blanket Dominic had grumbled about the first night but now seemed to claim more stubbornly than his morning coffee. The threads shimmered faintly in the light, stitched with protection runes and laced with old magic that hummed like lullabies.

Beside her, Dominic sprawled across most of the bed. An arm tossed over her waist, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His hair was tousled, lips parted just slightly in sleep, the sharp lines of his face softer in the morning glow.

She couldn’t stop looking at him.

Gods, he was hers.

No more bonds, no more curses. Just… this.

Love.

He stirred and cracked one eye open. “You’re staring.”

“I am,” she said, unashamed.

His mouth twitched. “Why?”

“Because I still can’t believe it.” Her voice dropped, like it might shatter the quiet. “We survived. You’re here.”

He pulled her in closer, voice thick with sleep and something sweeter. “Where else would I be?”

Her answer was a soft kiss to his chest. Right over his heart.

They stayed like that for a while. Wrapped in warmth and breath and silence.

Eventually, she untangled herself and padded into the kitchen, tugging one of his non-ripped shirts over her shoulders like a shield.

The floorboards creaked familiarly under her bare feet.

She set water to boil and rummaged through her absurd collection of teas.

Dominic had teased her for having over forty blends.

She’d dared him to try them all before judging. He’d made it through twelve.

She chose one he liked—smoky with a hint of lavender—and began preparing two mugs.

He came in behind her, yawning and scratching his chest. The sight of him, rumpled and real and still shirtless, made her heart stutter in her chest.

“You making that weird forest brew again?” he asked, sliding his arms around her waist.

“You love the weird forest brew.”

“Only because you make it,” he muttered into her neck.

She laughed, the sound soft and rare. “You’re ridiculous.”

He kissed her temple. “And you love it.”

They curled up on the couch, the enchanted blanket now draped across their laps, mugs cradled between hands. Rain began to tap gently against the windows, slow and rhythmic, like the forest was finally settling too.

“You ever think we’d get here?” he asked after a few minutes.

She took a long sip before answering. “No. I didn’t let myself.”

Dominic turned to face her more fully. “Why not?”

“Because people like me don’t get endings like this. We get warnings. We get curses. We get told to be careful with what we love.”

He reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. “And now?”

“Now,” she said slowly, “I think maybe we fought hard enough to deserve it.”

His grin was slow and dangerous. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat for a while longer, exchanging stories of childhood memories and half-forgotten dreams, until the air turned quieter, cozier. She leaned forward and grabbed a small carving stone from the side table, along with her favorite rune chisel.

Dominic raised a brow. “Crafting already?”

“I want to make something,” she said, brushing her fingers over the smooth stone. “Something just for you.”

She carved slowly, pressing her magic into the grooves. Each stroke was careful, intentional. When it was done, she handed it to him.

His name was etched in ancient runic script across the stone’s face. Woven through it were smaller sigils of loyalty, strength, and soul-binding.

He turned it over in his hands like it was something holy.

“I want you to keep it,” she said quietly. “It’s yours. It means you’re part of this place. Part of me.”

He set the stone down on the coffee table and then turned to her fully. His expression shifted. Gone was the teasing softness. In its place was the full, steady intensity that had always been so uniquely Dominic.

Alpha. Unyielding. Steady as mountain.

“Then I want something too,” he said.

She blinked. “Okay…”

“I want it official.”

“Official?”

He reached out and took both of her hands in his. “I want to marry you. I want you marked. Bound. Not because of magic. Because I’m yours. And I want the realms to know it.”

“Dominic—”

“I don’t care about ceremonies or courts. I don’t need a crowd. Just you, me, and whatever ancient spirits you want to invite to make it official.” His grip tightened, not in force but certainty. “Let me be your mate in every way.”

Her eyes burned. “You already are.”

“Then let’s seal it. Soul to soul.”

She hesitated only a second. “Yes.”

His mouth crushed hers in answer. The kiss was wild, claiming—but beneath it, the thread of reverence stayed.

They moved together again, slow and consuming.

This wasn’t desperation or reunion. This was a beginning.

A promise. Her rune-laced fingers tangled in his hair, his body mapped hers with hands that knew every scar and curve.

When they lay together, breath mingling, magic humming between them, she knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Lillith wasn’t afraid of what was to come. Or who would see the real her. She simply… was.