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Damn, this feels like freedom, and I mean that.

I try to focus on the moment, on the four sets of hands moving over my skin with varying degrees of practical restraint, but all I can see is the pattern now revealed across every inch of me. The markings start at my hairline and end at my toes—intricate, swirling designs in shades of blue and white that pulse with the rhythm of my heartbeat. They’re beautiful in the same way that a lightning storm is beautiful—wild and dangerous and completely out of control.

“I don’t even recognize myself,” I whisper, and I hate the way my voice cracks at the end. “I didn’t think it would bother me, but it does a little bit.”

Khol is the first to break, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “I understand,” he says, his voice rough with fatigue and emotion. “We all do, I bet. But you’re still the same pain in my ass as always, Sassy. You just have a little more bling now.” He gestures at my new skin art. “Speaking of which, you’re making me look bad. I’m going to need to catch up when we get home, because I’m falling behind.”

That is so patently untrue that I snort. His scales have been falling off in strips since we left the throne room, and he’s barely covered now—a sure sign that his body is working overtime to process whatever the fight and the shed have taken out of him. But underneath? He’s covered in tattoos and steel—even Dezi said he was going to have to even us all out when we were in Harvest.

“You’re a terrible liar,” I tell him ruefully. “Vamp Daddy already said we had to even things out, and these aren’t actual tattoos.” I glance down at myself again, at the amazing, impossible art that now covers every inch of my skin. “They’re species marks, right, Rev?”

“They are, and she’s right,” Tiernan says, his voice low enough that I almost miss it. “But the vampire had a point, and we might enjoy doing that together as a family. Keep it in your pocket.”

“Together,” I echo, the word feeling thick and unwieldy in my mouth. I reach for the nearest of them—which is Rev—and pull him toward the bed. “Alright, fix this damn thing so we can go to bed. If I don’t lie down in the next sixty seconds, I’m going to fall down.”

The four of them exchange another one of those silent, weighty looks, and then they’re moving as one to the tangled mess of sheets and blankets that used to be our bed. Dezi and Tiernan flip the entire thing right-side up with a coordinated effort. Khol and Rev quickly strip the torn sheets and pile the remaining covers in the center to make a comfy nest, while I watch fondly.

It’s not perfect—in fact, it’s a disaster—but when I finally let my knees give out and fall face-first onto the mattress, I could swear I’ve found heaven. The guys drop onto the bed with varying degrees of gracelessness. Someone pulls a blanket over us, and then there are bodies and warmth all around me. A cool hand on the small of my back, an arm slung over my waist, hair tickling my neck, and feet tangled with mine at the bottom of the bed are my reward for letting them handle it all without complaint.

We’re a bundle of limbs and exhaustion and fading adrenaline. No one speaks, but I can feel the collective sigh that moves through us because we survived.

Whatever comes next, whatever the morning brings, we made it through this day.

As the sweet release of sleep finally claims me, the last thing I see is my hand—my permanently, irreversibly changed hand—resting on Dezi’s chest, the mark on my palm perfectly aligned with his centuries-old heart.

I guess this is what forever actually looks like—I never thought I’d get to see it.

Thirty-Seven

FIADH

Iwake to sunlight and a bone-deep ache in every one of my muscles. The room is awash in it—thin winter light streaming through the windows and picking out dust motes dancing in the still air. My first thought is that the marks on my skin must be fading in the light, but when I crack an eye open, they’re actually brighter—the white-blue of my skin-art standing in sharp relief against the cream of the sheets.

Fuck, I’m like a goddamn glow stick with no half-life.

Next to me, Rev is propped against the headboard with one knee drawn up and his phone in his hands. He’s scrolling through something with a focused expression, the half-light catching on the dark smudges under his eyes. He’s been awake a while—I can tell by the way he’s sitting just so, careful not to wake the rest of us.

“Mmmm argh,” I mumble, the single syllable all I can seem to produce.

His head snaps up, a soft grin spreading across his handsome face. “Morning, Sassypants,” he says, his voice low enough that it won’t carry to the rest of the bed. “How did you sleep?”

I consider flipping him off, but even that feels like too much effort. Instead, I settle for a glare. “Is there coffee?” I croak.

“Over there,” he says, nodding at the sideboard. “There was a tray delivered about an hour ago. I’m guessing they’re trying to make nice after you scared the shit out of everyone yesterday.”

“You make it sound like I went on a rampage,” I say, pushing myself up to a sitting position. The movement sends a spike of pain through my shoulders and back, and I hiss between my teeth. “Fuck, that hurts.”

Why the hell does my back hurt? I didn’t even injure it.

“Would you like a list of the things you did yesterday that usually frighten people, Knuckles?” Tier’s voice drifts up from somewhere near my feet.

I glance down to find him curled at the foot of the bed, looking for all the world like the big kitty he is. He’s in human form, but there’s something distinctly feline about the way he’s sprawled on the mattress, his eyes half-lidded and his hair a halo of static electricity around his head.

“It’s not my fault these idiots forced me to vie for my life in a magic realm,” I say, pouting a little as I try to work the kinks out of my shoulders. “I just fought a stupid tree.”

“It was trying to kill you, Sassy,” Khol’s voice comes from behind me.

I turn to find him sitting cross-legged, a half-eaten apple in one hand and a bottle of something amber-colored in the other. He looks about as bad as I feel—his shed is still peeling in strips, leaving patches of pink new flesh beneath. When he reaches up to scratch behind his ear, a chunk of scales comes away in his fingers. “Fucking—” He stops, sees me watching, and immediately changes tactics. “—enjoying watching you sleep, babe.”