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Energy filled me.
Zaq’s energy.
An amazing, ecstatic energy.
It felt like life. It felt like love. I’m pretty sure my heart did sprout wings and fly to his, and his heart was right there to meet mine.
I withdrew my fangs, licking the marks I’d made, and chanted, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
He tensed and broke his rhythm, thrusting in and out, his lean angel-face contorted like he was in the best kind of pain.
He came with a low growl and hung over me, sucking in breaths like he’d run a hard race. He was hot and a little sweaty, which amped up his Zaq-scent to a level that should’ve been illegal, it smelled so good.
Touching his forehead to mine, he gave back my words to me, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
We shared a lingering kiss, then he eased out of me and flopped next to me. He turned his head and smirked. “I think I’m going to like having a mate.”
I grinned back. “Me, too.”
I kissed his chest, then headed to the bathroom to clean up. He was next, then he rejoined me in the big bed.
He tucked me into his shoulder—the spot I’d claimed as mine—and murmured sleepily, “Wanna get in the hot tub?”
“Later.” I pulled the top sheet over us and snuggled closer.
“Mm.” He shut his eyes and then he was asleep.
But I remained awake. Still kind of astounded at how my life had changed since that morning at Charles de Gaulle.
I was learning how to be part of a couple. After being alone, just having a person who was mine was a luxury, like a fluffy, silk-covered down comforter when you’re used to thin wool blankets.
I was learning to prioritize my emotions, whatever they were. Joy. Sadness. Fear. Anger. Love.
And I was working on believing I deserved all of this, especially Zaq.
Because I did deserve him, just as he deserved me.
Staking Moreau hadn’t fixed the hole my mother’s death had left. Only living my best life would do that.
I liked to think that Mom would’ve approved, that somewhere out there, she was cheering me on.
I released a contented sigh and burrowed deeper into Zaq’s shoulder.
Zaq stirred and kissed the top of my head. “Love you, Ren.”
“Love you, too,” I said, and closed my eyes.
Epilogue 2
TWILIGHT
FOUR HOURS EARLIER
Reaper looked like a fairy princess, blond and deceptively delicate, standing with Zaq in the candlelit gazebo.
As they spoke their vows, I swept my gaze over the guests.
Gabriel and Camilla. Rafe and Zoe. Both couples looking crazy in love. Hell, I hadn’t known Princess Zoe could smile like that, and I’d been her stylist—and shadow—for two memorable weeks this summer.
