She’d seen his past and accepted it. She’d accepted him. Before she’d drifted off, she’d told him, “Something in me changed when our heartbeats synchronized. I don’t know what, but I know I’m different.”

He understood. He felt as if he’d discovered the answer to a mystery he’d been teased with his entire life. A secret like no other.

Though his body was sated, his mind wasn’t. Would she wish to wed? Probably, if she’d been raised human. He would do it for her—if she could compromise as well.

Despite how powerful tonight had been, he couldn’t let that affect how he went about his life. He’d tried to postpone this with her, but she’d pushed. He suspected she might even have mesmerized him at one point.

The Møriør were still his priority, and war loomed. As the eyes and ears of his alliance, he couldn’t shirk his duties at the cusp of an Accession.

And without the Møriør, his quest for vengeance could fail. He’d been so close to taking Saetthan out, but the prick had escaped him. Destroying that royal sword had only whetted Rune’s appetite for retribution.

He would stay the course, refusing to change his existence yet again. It was someone else’s bloody turn. Tomorrow he would inform Josephine what he had to offer, knowing it was far less than she expected.

Using his silver tongue, he’d seduce her into his way of thinking, and she would adjust. She was addicted to their sex, enamored with the idea of not being alone.

She’d never give him up.

“Rune,” she drowsily murmured.

“Hmm?”

“You love me.” She drifted off again.

His eyes flashed open in the dark. That hadn’t been a question.

To go from cold ash to inferno in two weeks? Couldn’t be possible. But then, he’d also believed he could never have a mate. Or progeny.

A generation to come after him. Offspring with Josephine. She’d be fiercely protective of them.

Them. Already he’d jumped from a single potential child to plural.

Lorean parents were the true immortals. They lived forever in memories. If he had children, he would tell them about his own mother, whose sacrifice had allowed Rune—and his entire line—to live.

He would avenge her, help win the coming war, and then a life with his mate and their young could be more than a dream. If his stubborn female could see things his way.

FIFTY-SIX

Jo watched Rune as he prepped his arrows for their upcoming battle. Black, gray, red, and white.

With no weapons to prep, she’d been ready for a while, had dressed in frayed jeans, a funk-band T-shirt, and boots. Her version of war wear.

Night would soon fall on New Orleans, and he had on his game-day face, looking deep in thought.

Ever since Jo had awakened, he’d seemed like he needed to talk to her about something. But they’d gotten distracted by dozens of bouts of sex. Wild, immortal sex.

They’d showered together, breaking the tiles. Handy magicks had already repaired them!

Her guy was strong. To keep up with him, she’d fed throughout the day to speed up her healing—of rug-burned knees, sore muscles, and more love bites.

She suspected he wanted to talk about their future, solidifying things. Broken seal equaled commitment. Fate said so.

Did dark fey marry? Would he get her a ring? Shit, they were probably poor after she’d destroyed his expensive stuff and all. She’d have to go out and roll tourists—or Fort Knox. Since he’d be quitting his gig as secrets master, she could be the main breadstealer of the Darklight family.

Today between kisses, he’d told her they would find a new place to live. Somewhere for them to start fresh. A place where Thad could—at the very least—visit. In other words, no orgy observatory.

“You’d really do that?” she’d asked.

“You’re my mate—which means he’s my brother by fate.”

Now she sighed as he strapped his quiver to his leg. Her long, lean, dark fey assassin.

He glanced over at her, caught her grinning stupidly at him. Yet he didn’t return her smile.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Rune told her. “I need to take care of something.”

She frowned. “Okay.”

With a last glance at his mark on Josephine’s neck, he traced to the observatory.

Over the day, he’d had time to think about his plan to retrieve Thaddeus, and doubts were creeping in. Last night, Rune had been high from victory, but now he wondered if he could remove the wraiths.

Should his arrows—and Josephine’s telekinesis—fail, would he have to resort to Meliai, the nymph from Dalli’s covey? She’d promised him a key. He suspected it was a lock of Valkyrie hair.

When he’d rebuffed her, she’d made her own vow: “I’ll never give you my possession until you bed me, and bed me well.”

Sleeping with another female for this mission had always been a possibility.

Sleeping with another female for the Møriør was a certainty.

Now that he produced seed, he’d have to use that contraception spell routinely. Not that he would ever take release with another female, but he feared even his pre-cum could kill.

He rolled up his left sleeve and gazed at his unmarked forearm. Though Josephine would be hurt, she needed to get used to this reality of their lives.

This is bigger than just me, than what I want. I’m the eyes and ears. Hadn’t Rune sworn his resolve would never falter?