Page 154 of A Courage of the Chosen

“I-I’m sorry . . . I . . .”

“I don’t care,” Callahan interrupts. “I don’t care what magic flows in your veins, or about another bond you have no control over. I don’t care who your parents were. I don’t care that you’re The Chosen. I only care that I’m yours, and you are mine.”

The sob catches in my throat. “Are you sure?”

It’s the same question he asked me when I agreed to marry him, but this has far more meaning.

Callahan closes his hand around the knife. “Yours,” he repeats.

Blood spills between his clenched fingers, dripping down the length of the blade and onto the ground.

He takes the dagger from me and holds it tip down. I fist it the same way he did, my body moving while my mind whirs with the fact that he’s not run. He’s still here, still wants this.

I barely feel the pain as I run my palm along the sharp edge, slicing myself open.

It clatters to the ground as Callahan drops it, and links our fingers together before lifting them to his torso. With skilled movements he manages to undo the first few buttons of his shirt to reveal some of his scar-flecked chest, the edges of his tattoo peeking out from the shirt that hugs him far too well.

With our combined blood, he paints the runes over his heart where our magic lives, the ones that will complete the Anamara bond. Without breaking his gaze off mine, he paints the same runes above the fine lace trim of my top.

“Do you remember what we need to say?” he asks, voice unwavering and determined.

I nod. “I love you, Callahan.” I stumble over the words, suddenly desperate for him to hear them. “I’m in love with you. I want you to know that, too, before we do this.”

He freezes, and his hands grip me tighter. “I didn’t need you to say it back, but hearing it is a gift I’ll treasure for the rest of my days.”

He softens, and the burden of keeping this from him for so long evaporates with the way he grips me and shuffles closer so his heat ripples over me.

We suspend ourselves in this precious moment, his love meeting mine. I want to bottle it, and use it when life knocks me on my ass. I never thought a person could love me unconditionally in the way he does. Staring into Callahan’s deep eyes, I know everything I could ever want is right here.

Home is where the heart is. Cal said that once, when I was trying to piece myself back together after I escaped Tavish. And I’ve never felt a statement so viscerally until now.

His forehead drops to mine. “Let’s do this, mo sholas.”

I grin as I bask in the freedom of no more secrets between us.

We begin, me speaking English, and Callahan uttering the same words in Gàidhlig, the Seelie tongue of old.

“You cannot possess me for I belong to myself.”

The energy around us shifts, and awareness tingles down my spine as though we woke up fate, and it’s watching.

“While we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give.”

The candles around us begin to dance, as magic pours from our joined hands and encircles us in a ball of mist and light and shadows. It’s as much me as it is him. All of our power, not a stitch of it concealed.

“You cannot command me, for I am a free person.”

Will-o-the-wisps weave through the orb, their brilliant blue a stark contrast to the rest of the magic bearing witness. Her presence is a heavy entity, while a sliver of my being breaks away in a small rupture, disappearing along the bridge growing stronger with each word we speak.

“I choose you, Anamara, until I am claimed by the next life.”

Those parts of us pass by each other, two currents of the same tide coming together, before separating and going on their way.

Callahan’s soul slots into the void left behind, like this was always what we were supposed to do.

“I surrender myself to you. My power is your power. My soul is your soul.”

The runes on our chest glow a vibrant blue, just as the ones marking the Druids did, and our joined blood fades away, absorbed into our skin.