Epilogue 2 Delia
Ashfell
That night, as we walk back to our chamber, I feel settled.
More than that.
I feel home.
The castle hums around us—distant hearths, low voices, the steady crackle of flame sliding through the walls like the whole place is breathing.
The Gemini Moon hangs outside the windows, bone-white on one side, rust-red on the other, spilling strange, beautiful light across the stone floors.
Thorne’s hand is wrapped around mine, big and warm and sure.
My viyen.
My mate.
My ridiculously handsome, stupidly powerful, almost-blew-up-his-brothers-because-I-went-swimming Demon Lord of Fire.
It hurts a little, in that good, aching way, to think he ever believed he was unworthy of love.
Of this.
“Careful,” he murmurs, glancing down at me with those ember-bright eyes. “You’re thinking very loudly over there, Shula.”
I huff a laugh, squeezing his fingers. “Am I?”
“Yes. It’s like standing too close to the Great Flame.”
“What, hot and loud?”
“Blinding,” he corrects. “And impossible to ignore.”
We reach our chamber door and he pauses, turning to face me fully.
The firelight from inside spills out around us when he opens it, warm and inviting, washing over his sharp cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw.
God, he’s beautiful.
“What are you thinking?” he asks softly. “Truly.”
I swallow, suddenly shy and not wanting to be.
So I do what Delia Esposito, ex-EMT, current viyella of the Lord of Fire, has learned works best in Nightfall.
I tell the truth.
“I’m wondering,” I say, meeting his gaze, “if maybe you might like to kiss me, Thorne. Now. Please.”
His mouth curves—slow, sinful, full of heat.
“I always want to kiss you, Shula,” he rumbles, voice going rough. “That’s not even a question.”
Then he pulls me in.
His arms come around me, strong and sure, and my world narrows to heat and scent and the steady, grounding thud of his heart against mine.
His mouth comes down on mine—hungry, reverent, like he’s been waiting all day just for this.
Flame sparks at the edges of my awareness, a soft shimmer against my skin. The air around us warms, then flares.
Our clothes vanish in a whisper of heat and ash, his magic stripping us bare in the span of a heartbeat.
I gasp against his lips, laughing breathlessly. “Show-off,” I murmur.
“For you?” he growls, lifting me into his arms like I weigh nothing at all. “Always.”
He carries me inside, the door swinging shut behind us. The world outside—the SoulTakers, Idris, the multiverse of dreams—falls away.
It’s just him and me.
Bronze and soft. Fire and flesh. Lord and viyella.
We fall into our bed, into each other, into a rhythm that is ours alone—familiar now and still somehow brand new every single time. So easy. So right. So devastating I swear my heart is learning a new way to beat just to keep up with him.
“I love you,” I whisper, because I can’t not, my fingers tracing the ember-bright patterns that move beneath his skin.
His eyes blaze.
“Stay with me, Shula,” he murmurs against my lips, voice a vow and a plea all at once. “For as long as there is flame in Nightfall.”
“Yes, Thorne,” I breathe, pulling him closer. “Please.”
And as his warmth surrounds me and the fire of us roars higher, one truth anchors me more than anything:
I am his.
He is mine.
And whatever comes next, we won’t face it alone.
From here on out, we’ll walk into every fire together.
Thorne thrusts into me, deep and sure, and the last of my scattered thoughts burn away until there’s only him.
“Eyes on me, Shula,” he rasps, voice molten.
I drag my gaze up to his, drowning in ember-bright heat. “Thorne, you feel so good.”
His jaw clenches, a low sound tearing from his chest.
“As do you, my love. Gods, you’re so fucking perfect.”
Pleasure builds fast—hot, relentless, curling low in my belly.
“I love you,” I gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as the world tilts.
His rhythm falters for a heartbeat, like the words hit him somewhere deep.
“I love you more than anything, my viyella,” he growls against my lips. “Mine, Delia. Always mine.”
Then his mouth finds mine, fierce and tender all at once. And together, we fall into sweet oblivion.