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My forehead drops to her shoulder as her arms slide around me.

Her body is still trembling.

So is mine.

And between us, her heart pounds against my chest.

Alive.

Warm.

Free.

“Ezra,” she whispers.

I lift my head.

Her hair is a mess. Her lips are swollen. Tears still cling to her lashes, and there’s a bruise already darkening where my mouth found her skin.

She’s fucking beautiful.

“Yeah?”

A small, wrecked smile curves her mouth.

“You should choose me more often.”

For a second, I only stare at her.

Then I laugh.

The sound comes out ragged and unfamiliar, dragged from somewhere inside me that hasn’t existed in centuries.

I kiss her forehead.

Her cheek.

The corner of her mouth.

“Every day,” I whisper against her skin. “I’ll choose you every fucking day.”

Her arms tighten around me.

And nothing happens.

No roots tear through the floor.

No corn whispers outside the windows.

No mark burns around my wrist.

No ancient thing demands payment because I dared to want something.

The Earth stays silent.

This was ours.

Only ours.