She grins—wicked, brilliant, and completely irresistible. “You heard me. Promotional stuff. For the winter sale at my shop. Ya know… For fun.”
“I don’t…dosocial media,” I grumble.
“You’ll be great.”
“I terrify mortals,” I snort.
“You terrifyeveryone.” She pats my cheek like I’m a reluctant puppy. “That’s part of your charm.”
Before I can protest, she drags me into the kitchen, where she’s set up a little corner with holiday decorations: candles, faux snow, shiny baubles, and a tiny chalkboard that reads Slade’s Spicy Spell Picks in glittering gold handwriting.
“I didnotauthorize that name,” I say dryly, arching an eyebrow.
“I did. Now stand here,” Piper huffs.
She positions me beside a display of herbs and crystals, fussing with my hair like I’m being prepped for a magazine cover. Newt sits nearby, tail flicking, already judging us both.
“Okay,” she says, stepping back. “Look…powerful. But approachable-powerful.NotI will drag your soul into the void powerful.”
“That’s…literallymy only setting.”
She snorts and hits record, and we end up filming three videos.
The first is a simple product promo—except Piper keeps accidentally brushing myarm, and each time the bond flares warm and bright, and she blushes so hard the camera picks it up.
The second is supposed to be a tutorial, but Newt leaps into frame, steals a cinnamon stick, and Slade Athalar, Lord of the Ninth, ends up chasing him down the hall while Piper cackles.
The third is a trending audio that Piper insists I participate in—something about “my hotter-than-hell boyfriend doing witchy things.” She tries not to grin. She fails abysmally. I stand behind her and wrap my arms around her waist for the final shot, burying my face in her neck.
Her laugh in that moment is soft, breathless, joy distilled to sound.
We spend the next hour editing the clips on her phone, Piper perched in my lap, humming absently every time she cuts a frame or adds glitter text. She shows me the final videos, pride glowing in her eyes.
“See? Perfect,” she says.
I kiss her temple. “If you say so.”
She turns, cupping my cheek, expression softening into something quieter. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here,” she says simply. “For fitting into my life like you’ve always belonged here.”
The bond thrums deep in my chest—warm, steady, anchored. I tuck her against me, nuzzling into her curls. “I do belong here, Piper. With you. Wherever you are.”
She exhales shakily, leaning into me, letting the truth settle between us like a vow neither of us needs to speak aloud.
Later, we cook dinner together—her chopping vegetables while I stir the pan, our bodies brushing, bumping, orbiting in a dance that feels instinctual, familiar, effortless. She steals a taste from the spoon; I steal a kiss from her fingers. The apartment smells like ginger, garlic, and sage.
When we finally sit down to eat, Piper tucks her knee against mine beneath the table and smiles atme like I’m one of the only things her heart has room for.
And I realize—this is what eternity is supposed to feel like.
Not fire, or war. Not loneliness, but this. Softness, warmth…home.
And as Piper rambles cheerfully about tomorrow’s plans, I watch her. Heart full to the edge, knowing one truth with terrifying clarity… I would burn every realm to keep this.
To keep her—keep us.Forever.
