“I love you,” he says with conviction and reaches for me. “That’s probably obvious by this point—” he gestures around us, “—but it’s important that you hear it.”
Staring at him for a long second, I soak in this moment, letting the warmth of his affection wash over me.
“I love you,” I whisper. I haven’t said those words to a partner before. None of them have ever been around long enough for me to consider loving them, and now I’m glad I waited for him. “That doesn’t feel like deep enough of a word, to be honest. It’s visceral, and spiritual, and more than that word has ever meant to me.”
He hums in agreement and rests his forehead on mine. “My Chosen.”
With a soft smile, I step out of his hold and gesture him closer. “And you’re mine. In this life, and every other.”
“Oh,” he muses and moves toward the supplies, “the fates that bind us all.”
Looking up at him from where I’m now kneeling, I offer him a sly grin. It’s what I told him the night on Gale’s porch, the first time I let myself get closer to Archer. Not the faceless man in my dreams, but the very real man in front of me.
“I only care about you and me tonight,” I softly declare. “Fuck the fates.”
He chuckles and drops to his knees in front of me.
“I read through the ritual a couple times, but I’ll follow your lead,” he says.
With a nod of acknowledgement, I grab the salt mixture and pour it into a circle large enough to sit around both of us. Under the warm light of the fire and streaks of silver through the window, his eyes are on me the entire time.
My ever-present desire for him is already heightening to an intensity I’ve never felt before. His gaze is like a caress along my heated skin. When I sit with my legs crossed in front of him, he grabs my calves, unfolding them and pulling me between his outstretched legs.
A shuttered breath falls from my lips, and he rubs a hand up my thigh and squeezes. “I want you like this, right here,” he says.
I bob my head once. The grimoire doesn’t say anything about the couple’s position, as long as there’s room for the candles between us.
He tilts the book toward him and quickly skims the pages. “We have to take turns lighting the candles, and we will each light our own,” he says.
I hand him a box of matches and gesture for him to start. One by one, we light the candles I placed inside the salt circle and arrange them around the perimeter. When there are only the two with our initials left, I grab the red ribbon and wrap it around the candles about halfway up. I go back and forth, creating a pattern that looks like an infinity symbol holding the two together.
Then I grab the longer piece of ribbon and wrap it around my waist before leaning forward and following the same motion around his body. He stops me from continuing, taking the smooth fabric out of my hands and finishing with a heated look in his eyes. He starts at our legs, binding them together to create a barrier around the candles, and finishes with my left hand tied to his right.
He snaps the ribbon against my thigh and hums. “I like this view. A lot.”
I give him a look that saysfocus,but the heated flush and my shallow breaths give away my growing arousal.
“One more thing,” I say and grab the oil mixture. With soft fingers, I follow the book’s directions and re-create the runes on his skin. The oil absorbs and leaves a faint glow in their wake.
Archer has more experience and interest with ancient runes, so he doesn’t take as long when he repeats the pattern on my chest and shoulders.
“Now we light the candles,” I say, exhilaration rushing through me. “If the ribbon catches fire but doesn’t burn through, it worked. If it breaks, then…”
“Hey,” he says and grabs my jaw. “It’s going to work.”
With more resolution, I sit up straight and light my candle. The flame is a normal shape and size, flickering until it fully catches. He does the same and we wait a few seconds, letting them settle before our magic imbues them. The flame will grow larger and hotter, burning through the candle and ribbon quicker.
Holding his eye, I begin to chant the incantation.
“Animea, anitua, unanima aeternum.”
My candle grows in size and Archer repeats the words, causing the same reaction from his candle. Then we chant together.
“Animea, anitua, unanima aeternum.”
Our chests rise like we are being pulled toward each other.
We don’t stop saying the words.
