EPILOGUE #2
But before we can get any of that, there’s something else I want from her. “I’m not dropping to one knee and proposing,” I almost laugh at the absurdity, “That’s not how we do things. And I think you got over that with Nick.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she says, not sounding entirely convinced. Like she still carries a hope of that fantasy.
“I could do that, if you want me to. Just say the word, and I’ll have a plane writing it across the sky in less than an hour.”
She arches a brow, knowing that’s not... me.
“But marriage is... you know... in the eyes of God,” I explain the real problem of the situation.
“Oh... Right.” She realizes why marrying her would be, at best, complicated—in reality, highly impossible.
“But I’m giving you something else in return.
” My voice, almost breaking with a strange excitement, maybe also relief.
“You can mark me.” Her eyes rise with uncertainty.
I let it hang for a second before continuing, “I’ll wear your mark on my body for all eternity.
” I say, already buzzing in anticipation for the moment to come.
“Mark you? You already have a piercing... down there. Can I just swap the jewelry for something with my initials?”
I smirk. “I was thinking something a little more permanent.” I reach into my pocket and pull out of small knife, then slip it between her fingers. “I had the blade forged from the bullet. That way, your mark on my skin won’t heal over; it will scar. Forever.”
She takes a deep breath, staring at the knife, her fingers tightening around the handle.
I know she wants to say no, so that she won’t cause me any pain.
But I also know she realizes what saying yes truly means.
This isn’t a gesture. It’s a vow, a commitment beyond any words.
“Where should I do this?” she asks, trying to steady her voice.
“Wherever you want.”
She hesitates for a second. “Where would you like it?” she asks, and I take her hand in response, guiding it inside my shirt, right next to where the bullet wound used to be. It’s only a scar now.
“Okay,” she breathes like she’s been running a marathon. The weight of the moment pressing heavily on her shoulders. “Can we sit down?” Her knees sink into the carpet beneath our feet, and I follow her lead. We’ll do this however she wants.
Her fragile hands move gently inside my shirt, unbuttoning it until my chest is bare. Then she glances up at me one last time, making sure that this is really what I want. “Will you… do the same?” her voice quivers as she asks, almost breaking.
“You already wear my mark,” the corner of my mouth raises into a grin just thinking about my metal between her thighs. “But once you’re immortal, I’ll mark you with my blade—if that’s what you want. It will be less painful that way.”
“I can live with that,” her voice, barely above a whisper, as her fingers run against my chest, the blade approaching my skin.
“Fuck, yes,” I groan as the blade breaks skin, the tip carving into my flesh.
This isn’t pain. It’s fucking bliss.
Becoming hers is fucking bliss.
But then she suddenly stops, the knife barely grazing me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, watching her closely.
She bites her lip. “What if you don’t like it?” She stutters, like she could ruin it all.
“Whatever you make, I’ll love it,” I say without hesitation, trying to quiet the storm behind her gaze.
But she’s as stubborn as usual. “Oh yeah?” She says, tilting her head.
“What if I carve a heart with an arrow through it?” She teases.
At least I hope she teases me, and she’s not actually planning to do that.
I said I’d love whatever she marked me with—but that better not be something ripped out of kindergarten.
“Just keep in mind, sooner or later, I’ll be leaving my mark on you too. So think twice about what you do to my body.” I laugh, hoping my threat holds ground.
“Okay, I’ll give you a mark you can return when the time comes… if you want, of course.”
“Oh, I want to,” I say without room for doubt.
“Now, do it already,” I press, impatient to see her mark.
Impatient to be claimed by her. And she doesn’t wait to deliver.
Her whole body tenses, and the blade bites into my skin, etching a small circular shape into my chest, then another, tips connecting in the center. Fluid. Eternal.
“It’s the infinity symbol...” she whispers, her fingertips brushing my chest. “But also our initials intertwined. The two S’s.”
My breath catches. Not from the pain. The pain is barely there anymore. What I feel is her. Her claim, her love written in blood and flesh.
“Fucking perfect,” I groan, knowing I couldn’t have come up with anything better myself. So simple yet so meaningful. Perfect.
“I’m not done,” she says, running the blade across her palm in one clear line. Not deep enough to anger me, but enough to satisfy me. Blood wells up behind the blade, and she places her palm against my chest. Against the mark.
I feel the warmth of her blood soaking into the carved lines, mingling with mine. Sealing it.
“Now it’s done,” she ghosts out the words. Her palm remains there as her legs wrap around my waist, and she kisses me like she needs me more than the air she breathes. It’s consuming, tasting like every sin she wants me to bring to life and every promise she doesn’t know yet how to say out loud.
And I feel it in my bones—this is the moment we stop being separate things.
Now, we’re one.
Not by vow. Not by ring.
But by something older.
Something irreversible.
Something eternal.
“Set, Destroyer of my fears. Creator of my dark fantasies. The only god this sinner will ever belong to.”