The air thickens with perfume. Not one scent, but a dozen: wild jasmine, crushed violets, something like cedar warmed by the sun. I can feel the roots beneath us quiver, the ground alive with energy. The vines tighten, then loosen in rhythm with mybreath and his touch, until I'm not just suspended, but a part of it.
"Darius," I breathe, my voice cracking around the swell of something too vast to contain. My hands grip the vines, slick with dew. My heart races.
"Let go," he whispers. "Let nature take you."
And I do.
The climax comes not like thunder, but like sunrise—light spilling through me, radiant, warm, and endless. My head falls back as I cry out in pleasure that overwhelms me. The trees seem to lean in. The earth bursts into bloom beneath us. A ring of white flowers spirals outward in every direction, blooming in real time, echoing my release.
The vines release me gently, and I slide into his waiting arms. It's seamless, like the forest intended this union and choreographed it down to a breath. My legs wrap around his waist, and then he's there, thick and pulsing, sliding into me with aching slowness.
I gasp, my body arching into his as he fills me, stretching me in the most delicious, grounding way. It's not just pleasure—it's a returning.
We both moan, low, guttural sounds swallowed between us as he presses his forehead to mine, holding still for a moment, buried deep.
"You're perfect," he murmurs, voice rough. "You've always been. And you're mine."
There's no arrogance in the words, only wonder.
Then he begins to move.
Each thrust is a devotion, each rise and fall a vow spoken through the body. His arms hold me like I'm something holy. The rhythm builds, wild and unrestrained, and I see it in his eyes—that flicker of ancient power, moss-deep and storm-bright. Itspills from him, pours into me, until I feel myself opening to it, drinking it in.
And I want it all.
My back scrapes against the bark as he takes me harder, faster. My fingers dig into his shoulders as my body pulses around him, aching with the edge of another high.
He groans, the sound no longer entirely human. It vibrates through my bones. His cock drives deeper, unrelenting, and I meet him thrust for thrust, gasping, breaking apart and reforming with every movement.
"More," I whisper. "Don't stop."
His gaze locks onto mine, and something primal passes between us, older than either of our bloodlines. He doesn't answer with words. His body does, thrusting deeper, harder, hips slamming into me as if trying to anchor me fully back into the world.
I cry out, my head falling back against the tree. Roots stir beneath us, shifting, cradling. Every thrust sends tremors through my body, a fire kindling low in my belly, winding tighter and tighter.
The wind begins to rise. It slips through the leaves in a rising hush. The moss beneath us glows faintly, bioluminescent threads of green and gold blooming outward in spirals, like I'm the center of some divine ritual.
"Darius," I gasp, half broken. "I'm going to—"
I don't finish the sentence as the climax hits like a wave crashing through my spine. My body arches, back bowed, a scream of pleasure torn from my throat. Every nerve alights, my limbs trembling, and at the center of it all, I feel him, the force of Darius, not just his body but his magic, his essence, flooding into me as he comes together with me.
Nature answers once more.
Vines bloom. Flowers I've never seen before unfurl in full blossom along the branches. Petals flutter down around us. The air shimmers with energy, warm and charged, the forest celebrating my rebirth.
Darius's breath shudders against my neck. "You're home," he murmurs. "You're finally home."
I believe him. Not because I'm whole or 'fixed,' as I'm still a dark nymph, but because, even in my brokenness, the earth still claims me. Nature responds.
And so does he. Darius Hawthorn. My husband.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Sage
While the others head straight toCole's, my husbands take me somewhere else first. The cemetery. To the people who couldn't make it. People I can't stop thinking about. And yeah, I know what happened wasn't all on me, but some of it was. Enough to keep me up at night.
We stop at Winston's grave first. Then Eira's.
