It didn’t take long for their activity to conclude, their embrace fierce as they gasped against one another’s skin. Despite their limited experience, Deckard had surmised that it was the most pleasurable, frustrating sensation in the world, so wonderful and consuming that he clung to her, desperate to hold onto the feeling for as long as he could.
Evylin angled her head to kiss his neck, sending a renewed shiver through him. He tightened his grip on her thigh. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “But you’re pressing your luck.”
Her laughter tickled his ear. “Really?” she whispered back, kissing her way to his mouth once more. Their lips met with a kiss that drew out his groan. “I hadn’t thought you’d be done with me yet.”
“While I would love to comply, I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more patient than that.”
“Patience is your strong suit, not mine.”
He raised his brow. “I’ll have to teach you, then.”
With some coaxing and explanation, Deckard convinced Evylin to sit up with him. He hurried to grab two of his shirts from the wardrobe to help with the cold, then returned to enfold her in his arms. He leaned against the headboard as she leaned against his chest, their fingers interlocked.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he asked, sure that she did.
“Yes,” Evylin said, pressing closer to him. “Because it’s how much I love you, an immeasurable amount.”
“There would never be a number high enough.” He bent forward to kiss her with quick and gentle pressure before resting his head back.
Evylin smiled and began playing with the plain, platinum wedding band on his finger. They sat in contented silence, enjoying each other’s company as they so rarely were able to do. Even if they had been this comfortable in their marriage from the outset, moments like these were few and far between, particularly since joining the Calders.
Deckard had always hoped for a romance like theirs—one that felt easy, secure, and passionate. He no longer feared driving Evylin away with his love; he knew she no longer feared giving hers to him. After all this time, they were finally confident in their united affection.
“Jonn,” Evylin said, her head propped against his shoulder, “are you worried?”
Deckard couldn’t help his bemused smile. “There’s a lot to be worried about these days,” he said. “Are you referring to any specific issue? Or am I to be generally worried?”
She gave a soft, half-hearted laugh. She’d taken his left hand in both of hers as she continued to twist his ring. Used to her habitual tugging on her own rings, he grinned, knowing she’d turned to him in her concern. “I’m referring to tonight,” she said.
“You mean, am I worried about Bonding?” he surmised.
“Yes.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “No, I’m not worried about that.”
She turned her face up to him. “Not at all?”
“What do I have to be worried about?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? We don’t know anything about Bonding. Yet, we’ve agreed to it without asking for an explanation.”
Deckard hadn’t considered that particular detail. He knew what the Calders said of Bonding—it was the height of a Warrior and Mage’s achievements. It made them stronger, enhancing their powers. A side effect he didn’t care for, but a helpful one in their present situation. It was an oath of trust, fusing their souls to become one power, mind, and heart—an acceptable, if strange, outcome. A Bond was an unbreakable vow more venerated than marriage. He couldn’t quite comprehend that but was perfectly willing to accept it.
With a flick of his wrist, Deckard caught Evylin’s hand and laced their fingers together once more. “It doesn’t matter,” he promised. “Whatever it requires, whatever it does to us, I don’t care because it means I can take care of you and love you for the rest of our lives.”
“Which will be centuries, apparently,” she said sourly.
“It seems so.”
Evylin drew away just enough to look at him. “It will make our magic stronger.”
Deckard cocked his head. “Why are you pressing me? Do you want me to be upset, to stop the ceremony from happening?”
“No, I just—” Evylin sighed. “I don’t know. I’m just afraid my impulsive decision is going to drive a wedge between us.”
“Evie,” he cupped her cheek, drawing her close again, “nothingwill come between me and my love for you. Not even magic.”
“And what about the Deep?” she whispered.
