“It’s… beautiful.”
“May I?”
She turned on the couch, presenting the back of her neck. The copper hair fell forward as she gathered it in one hand, and the vulnerability of the gesture, the exposed nape, the trust required to bare your throat to a predator, sent a current through the bond that she felt too.
Her pulse jumped.
I lifted the necklace from the box and unclasped it. The pendant settled against her collarbone, dark against her skin, and the rightness of it was almost painful.
My lips found her shoulder.
The bare skin where my shirt had slipped, the curve of muscle beneath warm flesh, and I pressed a kiss there that carried everything I couldn’t articulate in language she’d understand.
Mira turned her head. Her fingers found the pendant, thumb running over the polished surface.
“You’re spoiling me.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t need expensive interdimensional jewelry.”
“I know.”
“You can’t just buy me things from your kingdom whenever you feel moody.”
“I can.” I let my mouth curve against her shoulder. “Get used to it. I have a lot to spare.”
She twisted to face me. The pendant hung between us, catching the light, and her expression was the particular blend of exasperation and affection that I’d grown addicted to.
“You’re insufferable.”
“Frequently.”
“And arrogant.”
“Consistently.”
“And I...” She stopped, swallowing. The humor faded into an expression that was more honest than anything she’d shown me in weeks, and the bond between us shuddered with a wave of emotion so intense my breath caught.
“Thank you. For all of it. Not just the necklace.”
I held her gaze. My hand came up and tucked a strand of copper behind her ear, the gesture I’d been repeating since the day we met, the same motion every time, and she leaned into it the same way she always did.
The afternoon stretched into evening.
Percival went down and sprawled across the armchair with his legs over the arm rest, as if the concept of sitting properly had been lost somewhere in his two centuries. Solomon came back with hordes of supplies.
I could sense Mira standing at the back porch railing, probably watching the sunset.
The sky had gone amber and violet, light bleeding through the tree line in bands that turned the forest canopy into a cathedral. The obsidian pendant glinted at her throat.
I came up behind her.
My arms wrapped around her waist, chin finding the top of her head. She leaned back into me, the full weight of her body settling against my chest, and I felt her heartbeat.
The sunset painted us gold.
“I could get used to this,” she said.
