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"I know," Wane said gently when I struggled to finish. "Kai figured it out. That man's knowledge of you is scary," he added, making me smile even if I couldn't feel the answering emotion in my chest. "Here, we thought you could put a piece of your shirt in here."
A lump grew in my throat, my face hot with near-tears as Wane grabbed a pair of scissors from a drawer, and from his pocket he drew a long silver chain with a glass vial dangling on it. I didn't know what he planned, but the fact they knew I couldn't let go of the shirt and had thought of ways to help me, to soothe me, meant so fucking much.
"It's meant for tiny gemstones, but who cares?" Wane murmured, his eyes on me, nervous like he was waiting for me to break. Maybe I was already breaking, right before his eyes. Or I'd broken on the driveway outside the house in the Damned Realm, when Wynvail died in my arms. "What if we cut off a piece of your shirt, and you can carry it with you always? You'd always have a piece of him that no one could take away."
I sniffled, pressure gathering in my face, right over my eyes and cheeks. I could do that. I could take the shirt off if I carried a piece of Wyn with me. Wane was right; no one could ever take him from me then.
"Okay," I croaked, swallowing as I met Wane’s worried eyes. "Thank you."
"Thank Kai, he's the genius," Wane deflected, sending a gentle brush down my soul. "Which piece should we keep?"
I looked down at the stained mess of my clothes. Gods, I was a mess. Holding Wynvail to me while he bled out from a neck wound meant I wascoveredin blood.
"This," I rasped, sliding the shirt over my head and wincing at how much it stank. I'd worn it for days in the Labyrinth. Oh gods, I—I stole this shirt from a wardrobe in this house and taunted Wynvail about stealing his shit. But he'd bought it forme,all this time. No wonder he looked so amused.
My vision blurred as I cut a piece of fabric, Wane helping me place it in the vial and pushing the stopper in. He sealed it with a tendril of shadow.
"So it'll never come open accidentally," he told me, and dropped the chain around my neck. It beat against my breastbone, a solid reminder that Wynvail was real. He might have been created by Cronus, but he was every bit as real as the rest of my mates. "And we're going to have a memorial ceremony. Nothing formal or fancy, but—Emlyn said you might need it. And for what he did for us, forme,we owe it to him to remember him."
"Don't—" I began, trying to push the words past my swollen throat. "Don't stop saying his name. I know it hurts me, but if we stop saying his name, he could be forgotten."
Wane slid his arms around me, exhaling a rough breath when I wrapped my wings around his back. "We owe it to Wynvail to remember him."
It was like a stab wound in my chest, but I meant it. We needed to say his name. I wouldn't have his name be a taboo. I wrapped my fingers around the vial, part of me settling at the physical proof of my mate's existence.
"What?" I asked when Wane's attention fixed on my stomach. "Oh." My curse mark. "Yeah, that."
He let out a heavy sigh, stroking the backs of his fingers over the black ink. "We need to find who gave us these marks."
"And kill them?" I asked hopefully.
"And get them to undo them," he corrected with a mild laugh, kissing my cheek. "But yeah, we can kill them, too. Why not?"
"This one is nullified by the line here, but the mark cursing me to kill you guys … I don't know how to stop it." I swallowed, but when Wane pulled me close, the tension in my shoulders melted away. He was here, home, scarred but safe.
"We'll figure it out," he promised, shadows flickering around him, the silken texture brushing my bare chest. I arched into the touch.
"You should save your strength," I chided him. His shadows had been so faint when we got him out of that room; judging by the thicker mass of them around us they were healing but slowly. He couldn't use them to fully hide himself yet.
"Or," he countered.
I drew back, frowning until I met his silver eyes and glimpsed the desire turning them a shade darker.
"Or?" I asked breathier than I intended.
His shadows stroked up my sides, caressing my neck, kissing the edge of my jaw. "Or I can show you how I spent most of the last hundred years."
My heart beat harder. "How?"
"There wasn't a single day where I didn't picture all the ways we'd been together in the past, and the way the others would make you gasp and cry. The way your whole body flushed a beautiful shade of pink when you got close to the edge. With their hands, mouths, and bodies, I learned your body. I couldn't touch you for ten years, but I paid attention to every minute thing that gave you pleasure. And for the last century, I spent hours thinking about how I'd use that knowledge if I ever got to touch you."
I shivered, my pussy hot and pulsing. "Fucking hell, Wane."
He smiled, and it was all wickedness."SoI can put these shadows away and just help you get clean. Hold you while you fall asleep again. Or I can keep the shadows out, clean you, fuck you with every ounce of shadow, love, and hunger in my body, andthenhold you while you fall asleep."
"Where did this dirty mouth come from?" I demanded, clutching him closer, wrapping my legs around his hips.
"I told you. I planned how I'd give you pleasure, and I know the effect dirty talk has on you."
