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Salty drops on my face again—this time, rained from above. “Lucina. By the Creator…pahaleur armeau…”
“Let me finish,” I sobbed. “Please. This is the important part.”
He laughed now too. “All right.”
I took advantage of the moment to get in a deep breath. “I’m not perfect, Shiraz—but dammit, I’m the perfect one for you.”
“Halle-fucking-lujah,” Ezra exclaimed.
“Creator be praised,” Samsyn growled at the same time.
“On those special notes,” I cracked, slanting my perfect prince an utterly imperfect grin, “What say you, my love, about the idea of…marrying me?”
Shiraz fell silent. But in that silence, I saw absolutely everything. The force of his adoration. The strength of his acceptance. The power of all the passion he offered—now, and for the rest of our lives.
His grip pulled tighter around mine—preparing, I assumed, to bring me back to my feet—only to stun me by being the one to move instead. Sweeping down…to kneel next to me.
Once there, he wasted no time getting his hold on other things. With a hand tunneled in my hair and an arm roped around my waist, he clutched me as close as he could possibly get me—
Before crushing his mouth to mine, in a kiss that gave his answer in a thousand universes of ways.
As applause burst around us—accented by both Ezra and Samsyn’s hoots—we kissed and kissed and kissed, our tongues a hot tangle, our bodies pressed and passionate, our hearts pounding wildly against each other. When we pulled part, our breaths still mixed as the crowd still cheered, Shiraz dipped in a little closer, speaking words meant for me alone.
“I accept your proposal Miss Fava,” he murmured. “But you are still getting a ring, you know.”
I popped my gaze wide, mocking and coy. “A Half Dome, gorgeous? For little moi?”
“Yes. Soon. But not tonight.” The din was so loud, I almost didn’t hear the dark growl he inserted before murmuring in my ear, “Tonight…is for the handcuffs.”
His words. My blood.
Scorch away, Your Highness.
As those elated cinders tumbled through my psyche, I grabbed the side of his face. Yanked him into another long, hungry, molten, meshing kiss.
“Holy shit,” I pulled away long enough to whisper. “You really can see all my fantasies.”
He smiled softly. Kissed the tip of my nose. Pulled me closer, wrapping me in the heat of his perfect, royal love. “I know.”
*
