"I love you."
"I love you," she answered.
"Four! Three! Two! One!"
"Happy New Year!"
The tavern exploded with noise and celebration. Dante kissed his mate, his lioness, his future wife, tasting joy andforever on her lips. The pendant gleamed between them, two lions eternally entwined.
No beginning. No end. Just choice, freely made and fiercely kept.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, Maeve pressed her hand over his heart.
"Best year ever." She declared. "And it just started."
"Going to be even better." He promised, meaning it absolutely. "Every year after this."
She believed him. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she leaned into him like he was home.
And maybe that was the real magic of Hollow Oak. Not the Veil or the prophecies or the fated mates.
But the choice to love fearlessly. To stand together. To build something worth protecting.
He'd spent a decade running from that truth.
Now, with Maeve in his arms and their future stretching bright before them, he'd never run again.
40
MAEVE
The apartment was quiet when they finally stumbled through the door.
Four in the morning. The tavern below them dark and locked, the last revelers sent home with well wishes and knowing grins. Maeve barely had time to turn the lock before Dante's hands found her hips, pulling her back against his chest.
"Finally." He breathed the word against her neck, making her shiver. "Thought they'd never leave."
"Twyla lingered." She twisted in his arms, her eyes bright despite the late hour. "Pretty sure she was hoping for a show."
"She'll have to use her imagination." He walked her backward toward the bedroom, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that started slow and turned hungry. "This is just for us."
She hummed agreement, her fingers already working his shirt buttons open. They'd barely touched all night, too busy celebrating with friends, accepting congratulations, planning a future that stretched bright before them. But now, alone in the darkness with dawn still hours away, her lioness demanded what it had been denied.
Her mate. Her lion. Her husband-to-be.
They shed clothes between kisses, leaving a trail of fabric from the living room to the bedroom. His shirt. Her sweater. His belt buckle hitting the floor with a heavy clink. By the time they reached her bed, she wore only the pendant and a scrap of black lace she'd chosen specifically for this moment.
"That's new." He traced the edge of the lace with one finger, watching goosebumps rise on her skin.
"Thought you might appreciate it." She reached behind herself, unclasping her bra with practiced ease. "Though I'm guessing you want it off."
"Eventually." He backed her onto the bed, covering her body with his. "Right now I want to look."
She let him. Let his amber eyes trace every curve and scar, felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. The carved lions rested between her breasts, rising and falling with her breathing. Her short black hair spread across white pillows, and she watched him watching her with heat building low in her belly.
"You're beautiful." He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the mate mark that sent sparks of pleasure straight to her core. "Every part of you."
"Dante." His name came out breathless as his mouth moved lower, mapping the curves of her breasts, the dip of her navel, the scar on her hip from some long-ago fight. "Stop being reverent and touch me."
