Maeve finishes with a soft invocation, her voice more reverent than I've ever heard it. "Bound not by ownership," she says, "but by will. By choice. By what endures. You are husband and wife in nature's eyes, and in all of ours."
Something unfurls in my chest, a pulse of energy that blooms outward, warm and alive. Sage feels it too. Her eyes lift to mine, luminous in the lantern light. And for the first time since she lost herself, I feel therealSage shining through the sorrow.
I reach for her slowly. She follows, meeting me halfway. When our lips touch, the bond ignites. Life answers life, flooding through us both. The world narrows to the pulse of her heart and the warmth of her breath. For a brief, unguarded moment, I pull her closer, overwhelmed by the simple wonder of having her here, alive, in my arms.
As my wife.
When we part, the air shimmers faintly with what we've created.
Applause rises around us. Voices, laughter, the soft hum of celebration. I hear them distantly. My attention stays on her.
She glances between us—between me and the two vampires—and though their smiles are tempered by complexity, there is warmth in them. Relief and gratitude, too. She is here again, and that is enough.
Sage exhales, trembling slightly, then whispers, "I want to try."
I nod once. "Go ahead."
She kneels, pressing her hand to the grass. For a heartbeat, nothing happens, and then, with soft hesitancy, her power stirs. The soil hums beneath her touch. A tiny bloom uncurls from the earth, slow and deliberate, its petals opening to the moonlight. Her laugh is light and disbelieving.
Sage springs to her feet, turns and throws herself into my arms. "Thank you," she breathes.
I catch her and hold her close, one hand at the small of her back, the other holding her up. "You're everything, Sage," I whisper against her skin.
She tilts her face to mine, cheek brushing cheek, her voice a sigh. "I feel… like we should…"
"The nature demands," I murmur, a faint smile ghosting my lips.
Without another word, I start walking from the grove, away from the lanterns and the crowd, deeper into the forest where the air hums with the promise of renewal, the last, sacred part of the ritual waiting for us in silence and moonlight.
Sage
As we leave the grove, I look back one last time. Asher gives a short, measured nod. Kayden smirks, raising his glass in mock salute, the champagne fizz catching in the light. A breath escapes me. Even after everything, they're with me. Choosing me.
The air feels different as Darius and I walk away. It's softer and more alive than before. A warm wind brushes my skin, carrying the scent of earth and sap. Nature is awake, and she's watching.
Darius lowers me onto the moss, his palm tracing my jaw as if relearning my shape. "You are radiant," he murmurs. "I'm glad to see you whole again."
"I'm not whole," I admit, leaning into his touch. "Just… less broken. The darkness is quieter now."
He studies me, reverent, almost in awe. "I had nearly lost hope that you could love me again."
"I never stopped, Darius," I whisper. "That was never the problem."
The words barely leave my lips before his mouth is on mine—hungry, tender, desperate. The kiss unravels what little distanceremained between us. When our clothes fall away, the forest hushes, bearing witness.
He is all sinew and heat, carved like something ancient, made by the same wild hands that shaped mountains and storms. My breath catches as he lifts me effortlessly, my back pressing against the rough bark of a tree. The moment our skin meets, I feel the ground stir.
Vines, alive and sentient, emerge from the earth, winding over my thighs, coiling around my wrists, circling my waist. They move like a lover's hands, patient and certain, until I'm suspended in their hold, offered to him and to the earth that binds us both.
Darius steps back a pace, his gaze molten green. With a subtle flick of his fingers, the vines respond by parting me, baring every trembling inch to his view.
"You are nature itself," he says, voice low. "And I will worship you as such."
When he kneels and his mouth meets my core, the forest exhales with me. The first touch of his tongue sends a shudder up through the vines, and they tighten, like nature herself can feel my pulse. I arch helplessly, the world blurring around the rhythm of his worship. Darius doesn't rush. Every kiss, every stroke is deliberate.
My body is suspended, weightless, the vines cradling me. His mouth moves over me with patience and precision, his tongue painting slow circles that build and build, until my entire being is humming with that deep, pulsing ache. He knows me. He knows my body. We're just getting our rhythm back.
And then… the forest answers.
