He scoops me into his arms, gently and carefully as if I’m made of something irreplaceable.
My heart folds in on itself as he carries me upstairs and lays me on the bed, covering my body with his, kissing me slow,sweet, reverent, until the anger and fear dissolve into something aching and real.
We make love—soft, slow, tender—every touch a vow he’s too undone to speak aloud.
When I’m sprawled under him, breathless and warm, I drag my wrist into the moonlight. The tattoo he designed for me glows softly where his lyrics circle my skin.
His gaze follows my fingers.
“And this,” I whisper, touching it, “means something. It anchors me.”
He brushes hair from my face, gentle hands, reverent eyes.
“But you know what I wouldn’t mind being surprised with?” I say.
His gaze sharpens. “What, baby?”
“A…ring.”
Zane freezes. Then vaults off the bed, gloriously naked, and crosses the room, enters the wall safe with the urgency of a man defusing a bomb, and returns holding a velvet box.
My breath stutters as he opens it.
Inside sits an exquisite diamond, haloed by deep, blood-red, breathtaking ruby stones set in platinum, catching every sliver of light.
My hand flies to my mouth. “God, Zane…”
He slides it onto my finger, slow and careful, his one hand trembling. “Had this started the morning I came for you in the coffee shop,” he rasps.
Of course he did.
It fits perfectly.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs softly. “And I’m yours. Forever.”
Tears spill down my cheeks.
He doesn’t give me time to overthink. He doesn’t even let me wipe my face.
I sink to my knees and take him into my mouth, humming the melody he wrote for me—the one that belongs to us, to this baby, to the life he’s fighting for.
He curses my name, voice cracking, hands buried in my hair, body shaking under the sound he can’t survive and can’t live without.
After he comes down my throat, he pulls me up, strokes my cheek, and lifts me into his arms again.
He holds me close, foreheads touching, breath shared.
“I love you so fucking much,” he whispers. “We’re going to have the best life, Ruby Draven. The fucking best.”
EPILOGUE
PART I
The lights explode across the arena, bright enough to laser through bone, and the roar of the crowd hits me with the force of a goddamn tidal wave.
Last gig of the tour.
Last night before we disappear into the studio and make the album that already lives under my skin.
