"Me next," he said roughly, and it wasn't a request. It was a plea, dragged from somewhere deep in his chest. "Please. I need—I need you to?—"
I swam to him, and he bowed his head before I even asked.
Braiding Riven's hair was different.
His crimson strands were coarser than Kaelan's, marked with scars that ran across his scalp from whatever battle had given him the rest of his wounds. I touched each scar gently as I worked, letting my fingers trace the evidence of everything he'd survived. He shuddered under every touch, his hands clenched so tight at his sides that his claws drew blood. But he didn't move. Didn't pull away. Just let me work, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps.
"I never thought anyone would want this," he said suddenly, his voice raw, cracking on the words. "Would want me. I'm not—I'm not like them. I'm not gentle or beautiful or?—"
"You're beautiful," I interrupted, my fingers never pausing in their work. "Every scar. Every sharp edge. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I've told you that before."
"I didn't believe you," he admitted, his voice cracking, something vulnerable bleeding through the rough edges. "I thought—I thought you were just being kind. That you couldn't really?—"
"Riven," I said firmly, finishing the braid and moving to face him, forcing him to meet my eyes. "I'm not being kind. I'm being honest. You're mine now. That means I get to decide if you're beautiful, and I've decided. Understand?"
He stared at me for a long moment, something shattered and and a look of wonder entered his golden eyes, like I'd broken through a wall he'd spent centuries building.
Then he kissed me.
Not gentle—Riven was never gentle. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was air, like he was starving and I was sustenance, like I was the only thing that had ever mattered in all his long centuries of existence.
"Yours," he growled against my lips when he finally pulled back, his voice vibrating through me. "I'm yours. I've been yours since the first moment I saw you. I'll be yours until the ocean dries up and the stars burn out and there's nothing left but dust."
I kissed him again, softer this time, and felt something slot into place in my chest.
Vale was crying before I even reached him.
"I'm sorry," he said, swiping at his silver eyes with the back of his hand, his voice thick and unsteady. "I'm sorry, I know I should be composed, I should be?—"
"You should be exactly who you are," I said, swimming to him and taking his face in my hands, thumbs brushing away tears that just kept falling. "That's all I want from you, Vale. Just you."
He made a sound like something breaking, and then his arms were around me, pulling me close, his face buried in my hair.
"I've written so many songs about you," he whispered against my hair, his voice thick with tears, his body trembling. "Hundreds of them. Thousands. Every melody I've composed since I met you has been about you. About how you make me feel. About how terrified I am of losing you."
"You're not going to lose me," I said, pulling back to look at him, to make sure he could see the truth in my eyes. "I'm right here. And I'm about to make it permanent."
I tore another strip from my shirt and began to braid.
His silver hair was the finest of all of them—soft as silk, shimmering in the bioluminescent light like moonlight on water. I worked carefully, weaving the rough fabric through the delicate strands, creating something that was neither elegant nor beautiful but was entirely mine. Vale was silent through the whole process, tears streaming steadily down his face. When I finished, he reached up to touch the braid with trembling fingers, his expression one of pure wonder.
"I can feel you in it," he said, his voice hushed, awed. "Your scent. Your essence. It's like—it's like you're part of me now."
"I am part of you," I said simply, taking his hand and pressing it over my heart. "And you're part of me. That's what this means." He kissed me then—not desperate like Riven, not deep like Kaelan. Soft. Reverent. Like I was something sacred and he was grateful just to be allowed to touch.
"I'll never take it out," he vowed against my lips, the words a sacred promise. "Never. I'll wear your claim until the day I die, and if there's anything after death, I'll find a way to wear it there too."
I smiled, kissing him once more. "I'm counting on it." Thane was sobbing before I even turned to him.
"I'm sorry," he gasped, tears streaming down his face, his whole body shaking with the force of his emotion, barely able to get the words out. "I'm sorry, I can't stop—I just—you're actually?—"
"Come here," I said softly, opening my arms to him. He crashed into me, nearly knocking me backward in the water. His arms wrapped around my waist, his face buried in my neck, his tears hot against my skin.
"I never thought this would happen," he sobbed, his voice muffled against my throat. "I never thought anyone would want us. Want me. I'm not—I'm not strong like Riven, or steady like Kaelan, or talented like Vale. I'm just?—"
"You're just the kindest person I've ever known," I interrupted firmly, stroking his honey-colored hair. "The gentlest. The one who makes me feel safe just by existing. You're the one who cried the first time I told you about my past because you felt my pain like it was your own." I pulled back, forcing him to look at me, to see the truth in my face. "You're exactly what I need, Thane. Exactly what I want. Now hold still and let me prove it."
He held still. But he didn't stop crying.
