I hesitate. I’ve faced down Hunter kill-squads and enraged vampires without blinking. But this? This terrifies me.
"I went back toBelle Rêve," I say, looking at her. "The house is a wreck. They set fire and took most of the east wing. But I found something in the rubble. Something that survived."
I yank the tarp off.
Moonlight hits polished mahogany and brass.
It’s a grandfather clock.
It stands seven feet tall, a monolith of dark wood and intricate carving. The glass face is cracked, spiderwebbed with age and heat, but the pendulum is there. The weights are heavy brass cylinders. It smells of smoke and old magic, but it’s solid. It’s beautiful.
Miranda gasps. Her hands fly to her mouth.
"It’s... it’s a 1790s Robineau," she whispers, stepping forward. She reaches out, her fingers hovering over the wood like she’s afraid it’s an illusion. "The escapement mechanism on these is legendary. I’ve only ever seen pictures."
"It’s broken," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. "The mainspring is snapped. The gears are seized up with soot. It don't tick."
I step up behind her. I put my hands on her shoulders.
"I figured... you like fixing things," I rumble. "You like taking broken, messed-up things and making them work again."
I lean down, my lips brushing her ear.
"You fixed me," I whisper. "I thought maybe you could fix this, too. We could put it in the cabin. Or the big house, if youdecide you want to claim your throne. I don't care where we live, Miranda. As long as I can hear you winding this thing every night."
She turns in my arms. Her eyes are wet, shimmering in the moonlight.
"You got me a clock," she says, a tear sliding down her cheek.
"I got you a project," I correct. "Because I know you get bored if everything runs smooth."
I reach into my pocket. I don't pull out a ring. I pull out the winding key. It’s heavy brass, ornate and tarnished.
I take her hand. I press the key into her palm, closing her fingers over it.
"I don't have a ring," I say. "I don't know jewelry. But I knowus."
I drop to one knee.
The wood of the dock is hard under my shin. The water laps against the pylons, a gentle, steady rhythm.
Miranda stares down at me, the key clutched to her chest.
I look up at her. She is the Chimera. She is the bridge between the species. She is the strongest thing in the swamp, and she is looking at me like I’m the only gravity holding her to the earth.
"I ain't a poet," I say, thick with emotion I don't know how to name. "I’m a Wolf. I’m a killer. I got nothing to offer you but mud, loyalty, and a heart that stopped beating for itself the second I smelled you."
I take a breath. I switch to the language of my blood, the language that carries the weight of the pact.
"Sois mon Alpha,"I whisper, the Cajun French rolling off my tongue."Sois ma femme."
Be my Alpha. Be my wife.
It’s a surrender. It’s a submission. An Alpha Wolf never submits, but for her, I will. I will follow her into the dark. I willbleed for her. I will build a kingdom for her out of the ashes of the old one.
Miranda stares at me. The silence stretches, long and terrifying.
Then, a smile breaks across her face. It’s not the polite smile she gave the vampires. It’s not the terrified smile she gave me when we first met. It’s radiant. It’s the sun breaking through the storm clouds.
