They stared at each other for a long moment; then she breathed out a faint laugh that barely hid a tremble. "I must look a sight."
"You do," he said hoarsely. "You look beautiful."
Faint color flickered over her cheeks. "I told Drake that I agreed to the bond," Ianthe blurted. "I know it wasn't what you wanted, but thank—"
He took that final step toward her and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck. Dragging her against him, he stole her words with his mouth.
Ianthe gasped, and then her hands locked in his collar.
A kiss to steal his senses, to sign his fate. It terrified him to think of how close he'd come to losing this forever. Kissing her had become more than a pleasure, but a sign of intimacy, a sign of surrender... That foolish bet sprang to mind. How arrogant it seemed now. A play of power between them, when they'd both been wary. He gave her that power now, gave it wholly and without doubt, surrendering everything that he was into her hands. One of them broke the kiss—him or her, he wasn't certain—and they stood against the wall, panting.
"We cannot break this bond," she whispered, still holding onto his collar.
"Do you wish to?"
Ianthe looked up, her heart in her eyes. "No. But y-you—"
"I have no regrets, Ianthe." His thumb stroked her cheek. "I want you to know that. I consider myself the luckiest man alive right now. I love you."
Ianthe looked up shyly from beneath her sable lashes. It ached that he could see the pleased sense of shock in her, as if nobody had ever told her such a thing. At least there was no doubt. She trusted him, believed in the words he was telling her, and he knew then that he would have to keep telling her such a thing over and over until she forgot all of the times she had been told she was not worthy of such.
"I love you," he repeated, his voice firming. "And I'm going to marry you. We can be a family—you, me, and Louisa."
"And Thea."
"And Thea. I had nothing, nobody. That's the truth of it. My life was dust, Ianthe, until I met you."
"The first time? When I came to arrest you." She tried to make light of it, and he realized she was still a little uncomfortable with this outpouring of emotion.
"The first time," he corrected, "when you walked into that grotto, gowned in white silk with a filigreed mask hiding those beautiful eyes. That was the beginning of us. You stole my breath. I just never realized that you stole my heart too. I mean to have all of your nights, Ianthe, and I shall give you my days. All of my days. And all of my heart." His voice roughened. "I didn't… I didn't realize how much you meant to me until you collapsed. I suspected, of course, but that moment... Nothing in my life has ever meant as much to me as you do. As Louisa does. I want you to know that."
Ianthe swallowed. "I hardly know what to say."
"Say you believe it. Say you deserve it."
Those violet eyes met his. She was hesitant. "I believe it. I deserve it. And I love you too, Lucien. I never dared admit that until yesterday, because I was frightened that it could be taken away from me."
"Nothing can take it away from us. We live together, and eventually, we shall die together, our breaths as one. Come here." He leaned down to kiss her. It was the sweetest sensation in the world, feeling her heart beating in time with his own. The kiss drifted on for long minutes, a slow and steady exploration, as if they had all the time in the world.
"To forever then," Ianthe said breathlessly when she finally drew back.
"All our days and nights," he agreed.
And for the first time in her life, Ianthe believed in such a promise—he could feel it light her up within, soaking through their Soul-bond and filling him with it too.
Forever.
Epilogue
Morgana coughed ash from her lungs and then quivered, lying still for a moment to catch her breath—and her bearings.
Something weighed her down, and the world was blackness and rubble. Every inch of her hurt, as though poison raced through her veins, scalding her from the inside out. And... and she couldn't seem to feel her toes. No, not just her toes. Her entire lower half was nothing more than numbness.
Her own son had betrayed her, and the girl, Cleo, had something to do with it. Drake had won, or no, not quite... She'd had one last hand to deal, and it was a winning hand, but where... Patting around, her heart erupted into panic. Where was the Blade? Where was her trump card?
Morgana scrabbled beneath her smoking skirts and found the hilt of the Blade there. Relief flooded through her. Her smile was a thing of vengeance. They thought they had beaten her, but she still had the relic, and now they would presume themselves safe.
After all, when one's greatest gift was Illusion, sleight of hand was but a mere trick. Sebastian's power might be brutal, but the kitchen knife that she'd wielded last night had borne the brunt of it, not the Blade hidden in her skirts. All she'd had to do was make sure the ensuing explosion felt powerful enough to hint at the destruction of a Relic Infernal.
