“Maeve,” I whisper. “Look at me,furtuna mea.”
My storm.
Slowly, she stirs beneath me. My heart races.
Is she okay? Is she hurt? Does she regret this?
Her eyes flutter open, unfocused for a moment. Then they find me.
And when she smiles, it’s like the sun parting the clouds, bathing the world below in light and warmth. It makes me catch my breath.
Before she can say anything, I wrap my arms around her and press my face into the crook of her neck, being mindful of the bite marks. I breathe in her scent, letting it surround me like a cocoon. And I’m quite certain that when I emerge—from her arms, from this room—I’ll be doing so as a changed man.
Beneath me, she lets out a tired laugh. “What is it?” she asks, her fingertips stroking my nape softly.
How can I put into words what this is, what I’m feeling?
It feels like watching waves pummel the shoreline during a hurricane. It feels like standing atop a mountain peak with the wind threatening to throw you from the summit. It’s breathless and beautiful and terrifying and...
Between one beat of my heart and the next, I realize what it is: love.
My marble heart has cracked open for her, and now everything is flowing in, overwhelming me. Tears threaten toflood my eyes, and I squeeze Maeve tighter, trying to keep them from escaping and dripping onto her skin and into her hair.
Her hands stroke down the length of my bare back, my skin slick with sweat. The touch is soothing, grounding. Somehow, it makes me feel safe. Like I didn’t just potentially ruin the first thing that’s meant anything to me in centuries.
When I’m sure there are no more tears in my eyes, I release my grip on Maeve and rise up onto my elbows.
Looking down at her, I whisper, “Are you okay?”
Her lips twitch into a sleepy smile, and she nods, then winces and lifts a hand to the side of her throat. Her fingers play across my fang marks, and then she meets my eyes.
“I’m better than okay,” she whispers. “That was...” She seems to search for the right word, then lets out a breathy laugh. “It was... incredible, Severin.” Her gaze holds mine, the purple in her eyes looking darker now as the fire has burned low in the hearth.
“You don’t... regret it?” I ask, fear squeezing my muscles tight.
But she douses that fear quickly. “Of course not.” One of her hands comes up to brush a strand of hair from my eyes, and then she traces the line of my jaw, the column of my throat, all the way to my heart. She presses her palm to my skin, going quiet for a moment, her eyes closing. A furrow forms between her brows.
Beneath her touch, I feel my heart thrumming, the frantic beat from earlier starting to slow.
When she looks at me again, she says, “My heartbeat matches yours.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Here,” she says. “Feel this.”
She shifts in the bed, gently pushing me down onto the mattress beside her. Then she guides my hand to her chest, between her breasts.
“Close your eyes. Feel my heart.”
I do as she says.
And though it takes me a moment to find, she’s right. Her heart and mine beat in tandem, each thrum of blood through our veins matching the other’s rhythm.
Like we’re of one breath. One soul.
And I don’t quite understand it.
I open my eyes.
