She laughs, and the sound settles into my bones. We stand there for a moment, watching the party swirl around us. Cole is making some kind of elaborate cocktail while one of the prospects films him on a phone, probably for the bar's social media. Tate has won his argument with Shaw and is showing off whatever's on his screen with the enthusiasm of a kid at show-and-tell. Two of the prospects have abandoned the pool table and are now arm-wrestling at a corner booth, which seems like it's going to end badly for someone.
My family. Loud and chaotic and imperfect and mine.
"Come with me," I say, taking Gemma's hand. "I want to show you something."
She raises an eyebrow but doesn't question it, just lets me lead her through the crowd and out the back door. The night air is cool and sharp with salt, the harbor spread out before us in a tapestry of dark water and reflected lights. The dock stretches out into the bay, and we walk to the end of it in comfortable silence, our footsteps echoing on the worn wood.
"I love it out here," Gemma says, tipping her head back to look at the stars. "I used to sit on this dock when I was a kid. Cole and I would come down here after school and throw rocks into the water and talk about all the places we were going to go when we grew up."
"Did you go to any of them?"
"A few. Portland. Seattle. Phoenix, for a while." She's quiet for a moment. "Funny how the place I most wanted to leave ended up being the place I needed to come back to."
I reach into my pocket and close my fingers around the small box I've been carrying for a week. "I have something for you."
She turns to face me, curiosity lighting her features. "Is this why you dragged me out here? To give me a present?"
"Partially." I pull out the box, and her breath catches. It's small and velvet, the kind of box that usually holds a very specific piece of jewelry. I see the moment she registers what it might be, the flash of surprise and something else. Something that looks like hope.
"Will..."
I open the box. Inside, nestled against the dark fabric, are two items. A ring—simple platinum band with a single diamond, elegant without being flashy. And beside it, a delicate chain with a small iron pendant, the Brotherhood's symbol worked into the metal.
A ring. And a collar.
Gemma's hand flies to her mouth. "Will."
"I've been waiting," I say. "Trying to figure out the right time, the right words. Trying to make sure I wasn't rushing you, wasn't pushing for something you weren't ready for." I take the ring from the box and hold it up so the moonlight catches the diamond. "But the truth is, I've known since the night you called me Master and told me I'd earned it. I've known since you stood in that restaurant and faced down the man who tried to destroy you. I've known since you walked through the door all those months ago and changed everything."
"Will." Her voice breaks on my name, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"The ring is a promise. To love you, protect you, stand beside you for as long as you'll have me." I set it aside gently and lift thecollar, the chain pooling in my palm like liquid silver. "And this is a different kind of promise. That I will honor your submission, cherish your trust, and never, ever abuse the gift you've given me. That what we have is real, and permanent, and ours."
I hold both out to her. "Gemma Holloway, will you marry me? And will you wear my collar?"
She's crying openly now, but she's also laughing, a sound that's half joy and half disbelief. "You couldn't just do one at a time? Give a girl a chance to catch her breath?"
"I've never been good at half measures."
"No." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "You really haven't."
"Is that a yes?"
She looks at the ring, then at the collar, then at me. Her eyes are shining, but there's no hesitation in them. No fear. Just certainty.
"Yes," she says. "To both. To everything. Yes."
My hands are steady as I slide the ring onto her finger, but my chest aches with the weight of the moment. She holds her hair aside as I fasten the collar around her neck, the iron pendant settling into the hollow of her throat like it was made to rest there.
"I love you," I say, my voice rough. "I don't say it enough, but I do. More than I thought I was capable of loving anyone again."
"I love you too." She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and sweet and full of promise. "And you say it plenty. You just don't always use words."
I kiss her again, deeper this time, pulling her close until there's no space between us. The sounds of the party drift through the open door, laughter and music and the clink of glasses, but out here it's just us. Just the water and the stars and the woman who brought me back to life.
When we finally break apart, she's smiling. "We should go back. They're going to wonder where we went."
"Let them wonder."
