Page 25

Zoya

F ive Years Later

It's the middle of the night when I sneak out, my feet silent on the boards of the porch. The scent of grapes wafts toward me on the breeze, mingling with the sharper scent of the sea. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself as I hurry down the steps.

My feet immediately turn toward the winery, but I skirt around the building, sticking close to the vines.

I don't even make it halfway down the side of the building before I hear him following behind me. I smile to myself and hurry my steps, fighting a laugh.

He mutters a curse behind me when I slip around the side of the building, disappearing from his sight. By the time he clears the building, I'm behind the old harvester, carefully out of sight.

"What the fuck?" he mumbles, his steps loud as he searches around for me.

I hold my breath as he gets closer. His bare back gleams in the moonlight as he peers through the blooming vines for me.

"Looking for someone, handsome?" I ask, stepping up behind him.

"Jesus Christ!" He spins around like I just gave him a heart attack, his wild eyes falling on me.

A laugh burbles from my lips as his eyes narrow on me. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that stalking is illegal?"

"Might have heard that a time or two," he growls, reaching out to pull me into his arms. "But chasing after my wife isn't stalking, princess."

"Oh, really?" I loop my arms around his neck. "What is it then?"

"Protecting what's mine."

My heart swells in my chest at his words.

God, I love him. He's just as wild for me now as he was the first time he followed me out here five years ago.

And just like then, I see the bad intentions reflecting in his eyes as he pushes me up against the side of the harvester, pinning me to the metal surface.

It's not like I'm complaining. His bad intentions lead to some of my favorite moments with him.

They're the ones where we're alone and the whole world fades.

We aren't parents to a four-year-old and two toddlers in those moments.

We aren't from two different worlds. We aren't defined by our jobs, our fears, or any expectations.

We're just Jareth and Zoya, wildly in love and free.

Those moments are some of the most beautiful in our story.

His lips come down on mine as his hands slip down my body. My robe falls away, fluttering to the ground at our feet.

"Don't let anyone hear you scream," he whispers.

I don't. I never do. Not even when he lifts me so high, I feel like I'm flying.

I float down in his arms much, much later, the sweat cooling on our skin in the summer breeze. His heart pounds beneath my ear, his arms steady around me.

"Thank you," I whisper, snuggling up against him.

"For what?" He glances down at me, his brows furrowed.

"For chasing me."

His lips curve into a grin, his expression soft. "What'd I tell you, princess? I'll always chase you."

I don't doubt him. I no longer doubt myself, either. He taught me how to trust my heart…and I finally learned how to listen.