Chapter Thirty-Three #2
That undoes me. Not the words. The certainty.
The way she says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Her forehead presses to mine, grounding, real, and I finally let myself fully melt into it.
My hand finds her waist, and her lips brush mine first, and I don’t rush it.
For once in my life, I don’t take. I feel.
The warmth. The quiet. The way everything in me settles instead of igniting.
My thumb traces along her side as I kiss her back, slow and deliberate like I’m learning something I don’t want to get wrong.
Like I finally understand what this is supposed to feel like.
Not chaos or escape.
Love.
Her.
When we part, it’s only just enough to breathe, our foreheads still pressed together, the space between us nonexistent.
And for the first time in many years, I don’t feel the need to fill the silence.
Because this?
This is enough.
Aoife barrels into sight, a bright and chaotic ball of energy with a stoic Noah trailing happily behind her. She grins like a fox when she sees Poppy. “I can’t believe you two were faking it!” She points a manicured finger in Poppy’s face playfully.
“It was convincing,” Noah adds, hand dipping to rest on his match’s waist. “I’ll give you that.” Aoife’s hand comes to rest on his, a shiny glimmer catching both the light and Poppy’s eye.
Poppy gasps, “What is that?!” and snatches Aoife’s hand.
Aoife giggles. “We’re engaged now.” Poppy blinks, mouth open in joyful shock. “After he killed a pirate for me, I had to have him forever.” Now it’s my turn to blink in shock.
“You killed a man?” I don’t even try to hide my surprise.
“I did too!” Poppy cheers and holds her hand up to high-five him. She’s much more chipper about it now that she knows it was a Moirai simulation.
“He was trying to kill her.” Noah is calm, almost smug. Good for you, man. “I did what must be done. Love will do that.”
“Yeah.” My expression softens. “Love makes you a different man.” Already my mind is reeling with thoughts of what ring would be worthy of resting on Poppy’s dainty finger beside her gold bands for the rest of her life.
“A better man,” Noah adds definitively.
I glance at Poppy, noting the way her head casts back in a laugh and the dying sun casts a beautiful shadow across her chest. “I’m still working on that part.
” I watch her with an awe that I’ve never felt before, a kind of pulsing, live thing in my chest. Like she is reflecting back to me the change that love has already made in me.
Noah claps me on the back, and after Poppy embraces Aoife once more, she happily slides back into my arms for another dance. We’re quieter this time, settled into the night and one another.
“You’re improving.” My teasing voice is a low hum against her ear. “You haven’t stepped on my foot once.”
“I should get an award.”
I dip her slightly, catching her off-guard enough that a breathless laugh spills from her lips.
When I right her, the music is still blaring, and the fire is still blazing, but after a pirate attack and the emotional turmoil of the last two days, I’m ready to be alone with the love of my life.
And the next life. Because I’m not giving her up that easily.
I lean into her, a way that is now reserved for only her. “Come with me.” And she does without question, fingers threaded in mine and tips of her non-pointed ears already blushing.
The Isle of Fate is dark now, the only light coming from the flickering, floating lanterns that dot the path back to our bungalow. I lost my shoes while we were dancing, and now I walk over the cool sand, feeling the slightly damp earth squish between my toes.
Once we get to the bungalow, she rests her back against the door and looks up at me through thick lashes with lust-hooded eyes. “So, what happens now?”
I brace one forearm above her head on the doorjamb as I run the other slowly up her side, starting at her hip and ending with my hand in her hair. “You know what happens next.” She shivers under my touch.
Poppy rests in my hold. “I can’t believe the Festival is over now.”
“We still have the matching ceremony,” I say.
“Oh, yeah, wonder how that’ll end up.” Her tone is gruff and teasing and so sexy I can barely hold myself back. “I can’t believe the Moirai aren’t angry.”
I can feel my smug expression. “Yeah, that could have gone worse. But we never set anything on fire, and I only considered fleeing twice.”
Poppy snorts, glancing up at me despite herself. “So, just to be clear—we survived cursed matchmaking, public humiliation, fake dating, and an entire island dedicated to exposing our lies...only to end up exactly where everyone said we belonged?”
My smile turns slow and wicked, my gaze dropping to her mouth before meeting her eyes again. “Honestly, I think we committed to the bit so well that even Fate got confused.”
She shakes her head, laughter escaping before she can stop it. “You know, most people just go on a few dates before declaring their love. Skip the whole pirate attack, fake dating, and magical intervention part.”
I step closer and closer, until a shadow could barely slip between us, hand settling at her waist like it was always meant to be there.
“Where’s the fun in that? I prefer my romances with a little public scandal and an audience.
” The night feels like it’s closing around us, holding something just for us.
My smile softens, the swagger easing into something quieter, more reverent. My hand finds hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles as I search her face like I’m still half-convinced this is a dream I’ll wake from.
“You sure about this?” I ask, voice low and rough, stripped of all my usual bravado. This is important. She is important.
She arches a brow. “Leave me now, and I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the universe.”
For half a second, I just stare at her.
Then my grin returns, slow and wicked, heart racing more than hers did in the first challenge.
“Fate,” I murmur, my mouth a whisper from hers. “That’s incredibly hot.” I kiss her, swallowing the laugh she was about to let free.
It starts soft, almost careful, unlike any other woman I’ve kissed. With Poppy, I will forever be savoring the fact that she’s mine. That I’m hers. That this is real.
But a man can only be good for so long.
My hand slides around to cup her ass, drawing her flush against me, and the kiss deepens.
I reach for the door handle, wanting to back us into the bungalow without breaking contact.
I fumble for the knob with one hand, muttering about architectural sabotage, and then I kiss the smirk right off her face when she begins to internally mock me.
I know her well enough to know a smart remark is on the tip of her tongue, but I’ll suck it right off there for her.
The door finally swings open behind us. Moonlight spills across the room in silver ribbons, glinting off the water beyond the porch. Somewhere outside, the sea rocks against the shore, and mermaids flip around the kraken in some twisted game. But all I care about is Poppy. In my arms. In our bed.
I guide her inside like there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. Because there isn’t. Never will be.
The door closes softly behind us, shutting out the rest of the island, leaving only this quiet and the way my forehead comes to rest against hers as we catch our breath.
My fingers lace with hers, lifting our hands to my lips. Then clothes disappear in fragments—my shirt tugged over my head, hers slipping down her shoulders like it had been waiting all night to fall. Each touch is unhurried but charged, every brush of skin sparking something hotter.
I draw her near, palms feeling the bare curve of her waist because I can’t bear even an inch between us. She rises onto her toes to meet me, hands threading through my hair when I dip us back onto the waiting mattress.
Our bodies find each other with inevitability, all warmth and want and the sweet relief of no longer having to pretend.
The world beyond the bungalow fades until there is only the rush of breath, the slide of skin against skin, and me holding her like I’ve finally found exactly where I’m meant to be.
Because I have.
And when I kiss her one more time before falling asleep, it doesn’t feel at all like falling. It feels like finally coming home.