Damon gives us a private room.
Small, but private.
Shadow locks the door behind us, and suddenly it's just us. Just me and my husband in a quiet room, finally alone after the nightmare.
"Come here," Shadow says, his voice rough.
I go to him, and he pulls me close, his hands running over me—my face, my shoulders, my ribs, touching everywhere like he needs to confirm I'm whole.
Shadow pulls back to look at me, cups my face in his hands.
His eyes are wet, tears he won't let fall.
"I love you," he says fiercely. "I love you so fucking much. And if anything had happened to you?—"
"It didn't. I'm here. Because you came for me."
"I'll always come for you. Always."
He kisses me, desperate and claiming and possessive.
His hands in my hair, on my body, needing to touch, to claim, to reassure himself.
I kiss him back just as desperately.
Needing this. Needing him. Needing to feel alive and safe and loved.
"You're mine," he murmurs against my lips. "You're mine and I'm never letting you go. Never letting anyone hurt you again."
"I'm yours," I whisper back. "Forever."
His hand slides under my shirt, up my ribs to the bandage covering my fresh tattoo.
His name. Permanently marked on my skin.
"This," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "This right here. You're mine. My wife. My Grace."
"Yours."
We don't have sex—I'm too exhausted, and he's too afraid of hurting me. But we touch. Hold onto each other. Claim each other in every way that doesn't involve crossing that line.
His hands memorize my body. My hands reassure him I'm real.
"I watched you kill him," I say quietly. "You and my father. IwatchedFlint die."
Shadow goes still. "And?"
"And I'm glad he's dead. I'm not horrified. I'm not traumatized by the violence. I'm relieved." I look up at him. "Does that make me a bad person?"
"No." His voice is firm. "It makes you someone who understands this life. Someone who knows that sometimes violence is necessary to protect the people you love." Shadow kisses me again, softer this time. "I don't deserve you."
"Yes, you do."
We lie down on the bed, and I curl into his side, his arms wrapped around me, his body between me and the door.
Protection even in sleep.
"Venom's still out there," I say quietly. "In Houston with his club."
