Page 97 of A Match Made in Error

“Oh, yeah, wonder how that’ll end up.” Her tone is gruff and teasing and so sexy I can barely hold myself back. “I can’t believe the Moirai aren’t angry.”

I can feel my smug expression. “Yeah, that could have gone worse. But we never set anything on fire, and I only considered fleeing twice.”

Poppy snorts, glancing up at me despite herself. “So, just to be clear—we survived cursed matchmaking, public humiliation, fake dating, and an entire island dedicated to exposing our lies...only to end up exactly where everyone said we belonged?”

My smile turns slow and wicked, my gaze dropping to her mouth before meeting her eyes again. “Honestly, I think we committed to the bit so well that even Fate got confused.”

She shakes her head, laughter escaping before she can stop it. “You know, most people just go on a few dates before declaring their love. Skip the whole pirate attack, fake dating, and magical intervention part.”

I step closer and closer, until a shadow could barely slip between us, hand settling at her waist like it was always meant to be there. “Where’s the fun in that? I prefer my romances with a little public scandal and an audience.” The night feels like it’s closing around us, holding something just for us.

My smile softens, the swagger easing into something quieter, more reverent. My hand finds hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles as I search her face like I’m still half-convinced this is a dream I’ll wake from.

“You sure about this?” I ask, voice low and rough, stripped of all my usual bravado. This is important. She is important.

She arches a brow. “Leave me now, and I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the universe.”

For half a second, I just stare at her.

Then my grin returns, slow and wicked, heart racing more than hers did in the first challenge.

“Fate,” I murmur, my mouth a whisper from hers. “That’s incredibly hot.” I kiss her, swallowing the laugh she was about to let free.

It starts soft, almost careful, unlike any other woman I’ve kissed. With Poppy, I will forever be savoring the fact that she’s mine. That I’m hers. That this is real.

But a man can only be good for so long.

My hand slides around to cup her ass, drawing her flush against me, and the kiss deepens. I reach for the door handle, wanting to back us into the bungalow without breaking contact. I fumble for the knob with one hand, muttering about architectural sabotage, and then I kiss the smirk right off her face when she begins to internally mock me. I know her well enough to know a smart remark is on the tip of her tongue, but I’ll suck it right off there for her.

The door finally swings open behind us. Moonlight spills across the room in silver ribbons, glinting off the water beyond the porch. Somewhere outside, the sea rocks against the shore, and mermaids flip around the kraken in some twisted game. But all I care about is Poppy. In my arms. In our bed.

I guide her inside like there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. Because there isn’t. Never will be.

The door closes softly behind us, shutting out the rest of the island, leaving only this quiet and the way my forehead comes to rest against hers as we catch our breath.

My fingers lace with hers, lifting our hands to my lips. Then clothes disappear in fragments—my shirt tugged over my head, hers slipping down her shoulders like it had been waiting all night to fall. Each touch is unhurried but charged, every brush of skin sparking something hotter.

I draw her near, palms feeling the bare curve of her waist because I can’t bear even an inch between us. She rises onto her toes to meet me, hands threading through my hair when I dip us back onto the waiting mattress.

Our bodies find each other with inevitability, all warmth and want and the sweet relief of no longer having to pretend. The world beyond the bungalow fades until there is only the rush of breath, the slide of skin against skin, and me holding her like I’ve finally found exactly where I’m meant to be.

Because I have.

And when I kiss her one more time before falling asleep, it doesn’t feel at all like falling. It feels like finally coming home.

Chapter Thirty-Four

POPPY

The sky is offensively beautiful again. Only this time, it feels like it’s celebrating instead of mocking. I can see why this is the type of weather poets use as proof that Fate has a sense of romance because now I’m proof of it as well.

Riven and I are standing under a woven arch that glitters with delicate gold leaf. The same soft breeze is blowing through my hair. We’re standing in the same town square, and the same man is beside me holding my hand. But everything is so different.

Last time I stood here with Riven, he and I were starting our journey to faking it, and the time before that, cowardice and idiocy had convinced us both that we were okay just being friends. This time, we’re acknowledging to the world that we won’t settle for anything less than together forever.

The last week on the island was sun-soaked bliss. We snorkeled, drank mojitos, and spent time with the other couples. This morning, the ferryboat brought us back to Fate’s Fortune, where the final matching ceremony can take place in the Arena of Affection, in front of the fans who have been watching us from afar the entire month.

Speaking of, the crowd feels calmer this year, more reverent. Or maybe it’s just me that’s changed, not them. I’m looking at them through the eyes of a witch in love, after all.