“Always deflecting.”His thumb traces my cheekbone.“When are you going to accept that you’re extraordinary?”
“When are you going to accept that you’re not cursed?”
“I’m working on it,” he admits.“Every day I wake up beside you, and that nothing terrible happens, the voice gets a little quieter.”
“Just a little?”
“Sometimes a lot.”He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine.“When I look at you, the voice goes completely silent.And I think: this is what healing feels like.Not the absence of scars but learning to live with them.”
I kiss him, soft and slow.The champagne sits forgotten beside us.The wedding magazines scatter as I shift closer, crawling into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I love you,” I whisper against his lips.
“I love you too.”His hands slide down my back, pulling me closer.“More than I ever thought I was capable of loving anyone.”
The kiss deepens, heat building between us with the familiar electricity that’s been there since the beginning.
“Bedroom?”I ask, breathless.
“Bedroom,” he agrees.
He stands in one fluid motion, lifting me with him, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me through the penthouse.
The bedroom is bathed in golden light, the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Boston’s skyline.Shelby lays me on the bed like I’m something precious, and the tenderness in his expression makes my heart ache.
I pull him down to me, silencing him with another kiss.“I want you.I always want you.”
His groan vibrates against my mouth as he settles his weight over me.We undress each other slowly, deliberately, nothing like the frantic encounters of our early days.This is different.We know we have time.We trust that tomorrow will come and we’ll still be here, together.
“You’re so beautiful,álainn,” Shelby murmurs, trailing kisses down my throat.“I still can’t believe you’re mine.”
“Yours,” I confirm, arching into his touch.“Only yours.”I rake my fingers through his hair.“Always yours.”
He takes his time worshiping my body, his mouth and hands mapping familiar territory with renewed reverence.I shatter once under his tongue before he finally slides inside me, and the connection overwhelms us because it’s physical, emotional, and spiritual.
We move together in perfect rhythm, building toward something inevitable.Shelby’s eyes stay locked on mine, showing me everything in their blue depths: love and desire and gratitude and fierce protective devotion.He’s the man who came for me when I was chained in a dungeon.The man who killed for me without hesitation.The man who knelt in front of the entire Syndicate and asked me to marry him again.
“Serena.”My name is a prayer on his lips as we climax together, pleasure rippling through us in waves that seem to go on forever.
Later, I rest my head on his chest, his fingers trace lazy patterns on my back.The sun has set, and the city lights glitter beyond the windows like earthbound stars.
“I’ve been thinking about the wedding,” I say eventually.
“Hmm?”His voice is drowsy, satisfied.
“Wychmere Harbor.The ceremony.Alexia suggested it, and...I think she’s right.”
Shelby’s arms tighten around me.“Mom always said she wanted her boys to find partners who challenged them.Who made them better.”He presses a kiss to the top of my head.“You make me better, Serena.Every single day.”
I shift, propping myself up on my elbow to look at him.In the dim light, the sharp angles of his face are softened, the permanent tension in his jaw finally relaxed.He looks younger like this.Peaceful.I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertip.
“When I look at you and think about our future, I hope.Like maybe everything we went through was leading us to this moment.To each other.”
Shelby catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm.“Love you,álainn.”
“Love you more,” I whisper.
We’re quiet for a while, listening to each other breathe, existing in the sacred space we’ve created.Outside, Boston continues its endless rhythm with cars and people and lives intersecting and diverging.Inside, there’s only us.
