His calloused thumb brushes away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "You faced down gods and monsters without flinching. You've seen the darkness in me and claimed it as your own. You are mine in every way that matters across all realms."
He takes the ring from its velvet nest, holding it between us like a vow. "I want the world to know it, too. I want to watch you walk down that isle in white, wearing my mark, my ring for everyone to see. I want to claim you in the human way, just as I've claimed you in every other."
Tears spill freely down my cheeks now, but I don't look away from the fierce determination in his gaze.
"I know it's traditional, maybe even cliché," he says with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. "But after a millennium of darkness, I find myself desperately wanting these human moments with you. Will you marry me, Angel? Make this ancient, broken vampire the happiest man across all seven realms?"
A sob escapes me, joy so intense it feels like physical pain blooming in my chest. This man—this dominant, protective force of nature—demands my answer while offering me his immortal heart.
"Yes," I manage through tears, my hands clutching at his shoulders. "God, Rhyland, yes, yes. A thousand times, yes!"
Rhyland's smile blazes brighter than any light I've ever created—those damn dimples making my heart stutter in my chest. His hands, capable of wielding lightning and devastating enemies, are impossibly gentle as he slides the ring home. The metal feels warm against my skin, like it's always belonged there.
"Mine," he growls against my knuckles, pressing a kiss there that brands me straight to my soul. His voice carries centuries of possessiveness, wrapped in tender devotion. "Now and for all eternity."
"Yours," I whisper back, my heart so full it might burst. I press my forehead to his, feeling that electric connection spark between us. "I'll always be yours—I love you, you beautiful, brooding, towel-dropping disaster of a Viking."
His answering laugh rumbles through his chest, but his eyes—those ocean-deep eyes that first captured my heart—shine with such profound happiness that it makes my throat tight. In this moment, he's not the thousand-year-old warrior or Thor's grandson. He's just my Rhyland, looking at me like I've given him every star in the sky.
He claims my mouth in a tender and demanding kiss, the taste of salt mingling with the familiar heat of his lips. When we finally break apart, both breathless, he presses his hand over my heart, a gesture of possession and protection.
"You remade me," he states, the words an unbreakable vow. "Everything I am belongs to you."
I cover his hand with mine, feeling our hearts beat in perfect synchrony. "And everything I am belongs to you."
That signature smirk plays across Rhyland's lips as his eyes darken with hunger. "Now I'm going to give myfiancéea proper Christmas," he growls. His hand slides up my thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "But first—" he pauses, his gaze raking over me with such intensity I swear I can feel it like a physical touch. His eyes linger on my breasts, my hips, the apex of my thighs, claiming ownership of every inch. "—I need my damn breakfast."
The diamond on my finger catches the morning light, sending prisms dancing across his tattooed chest as he descends my body with single-minded purpose. There's nothing gentle in his movements—he stalks down my form like the apex predator he is, all coiled muscle and barely leashed power. His beard scrapes deliciously against my sensitive skin, the slight tickle only heightening my awareness of every touch.
His mouth blazes a trail of hot, demanding kisses along my stomach, each press of his lips a brand of ownership. He nips at my hip bone, soothing the sting with his tongue before continuing his journey southward. My fingers tangle in his sleep-mussed black hair, not guiding but simply holding on as he takes exactly what he wants.
"All mine," he rumbles against my inner thigh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers straight to my core. His hands grip my legs with firm insistence, spreading me open to his hungry gaze. His thumbs press into the sensitive flesh, leaving marks that will bloom into bruises later—a reminder of this moment that I'll secretly trace throughout the day.
He pauses, looking up the length of my body, and the expression on his face makes my heart stutter in my chest. There's raw devotion there, a soul-deep connection that transcends the physical, but it's tempered with such carnal intent that my breath catches. His eyes hold mine captive as he lowers his head, the first touch of his tongue making me gasp.
"Mmm—so fucking sweet, baby," Rhyland whispers against my core, his breath like a feather-light caress on my sensitive skin. His tongue swirls out in a slow, deliberate lick, starting at the entrance to my aching core and lazily making its way up to the swollen peak of my clit. "Marinated in my cum all night, making your perfect little pussy taste even better for me."
Holy hell.
My beautiful, savage beefcake. Here he is, finding new ways to set me on fire with that sinfully talented mouth of his, casually reminding me how thoroughly he wrecked me just hours ago—how the evidence of our wild night is still sealed inside me like his own personal brand.
He's absolutely unhinged, completely shameless, and I'm addicted to every single filthy word that comes out of that gorgeous mouth. He could teach a masterclass in dirty talk, and I'd be first in line to enroll.
He devours me, his tongue alternating between teasing flicks and deep, penetrating thrusts. His strong hands hold my thighs apart when they begin to tremble, refusing to let me close myself to his morning feast. When his lips close around my clit and suck with perfect pressure, I cry out.
Outside our window, snow falls in gentle, silent flurries, transforming the world into a pristine white canvas. The morning light filters through the frost-etched glass, casting an ethereal glow across our tangled forms. Such a stark, beautiful contrast—the peaceful winter wonderland beyond our walls and the consuming heat between us.
My delicious, sinful, man. Who's walked the earth for over a millennium, now worships between my thighs with the devotion of someone who's found his salvation. I never imagined this kind of happiness existed—this perfect blend of soul-deep connection and physical bliss. The engagement ring glitters on my finger as I grip his hair, a tangible symbol of the immortal heart I've somehow captured.
I smile even as a moan escapes me. From feared vampire warlord to my fiancé in just a few short months—who would have thought? But as his wicked tongue drives coherent thought from my mind, I can't help but think I'm the real winner in this arrangement.
Merry Christmas to me, indeed.
"Holy shit!" Lucian rips into the wrapping paper like a caffeinated raccoon on meth. "No fucking way..." He cradles the limited edition Iron Man Mark 85 helmet like he's just discovered the holy grail of nerdgasms. "Only 100 of these cock-loving beauties exist in the entire shit show we call Earth!"
He vibrates on the couch cushion, making Seraphina facepalm beside him. "Rhy-Rhy, you beautiful brooding thunder-fuck! Did you have to murder someone for this? Please tell me there was murder. Or at least some light maiming? I bet Erik went all 'grr-face' on some poor nerd. Give me the dirty details, you sexy Scandinavian snack!"
I snort-laugh as he jams the helmet on his head, the electronic eyes lighting up. "Friday, baby girl, do these circuits make my ass look fat? Quick, someone get me a cheeseburger and my collection of daddy issues! I'm about to science the shit out of this Christmas!"
