Epilogue
JOSIE
Okay, so I believe in magic now.
Not the kind from movies.
Not rabbits in hats, or card tricks, or smoke and mirrors.
Real magic.
The kind that wears black.
Smells like chocolate and cinnamon.
And kisses me goodbye every morning like I'm the greatest treasure in existence.
Which, according to my husband/mate—yes, we're using both words all the time now—is exactly what I am.
Turns out Demons move fast.
Honestly, after being mated, magically bonded, and accidentally married according to Nightfall law, arguing semantics felt pointless.
Besides, I like being Lady Josie Crestfall.
Apparently, I haven't learned everything about Desmond yet because I had no idea I’d be getting a noble title along with everything else.
And every time I ask, he gets this weird look and mutters something about ancient noble houses and paperwork.
I'm beginning to suspect he's secretly Demon royalty.
Anyway, I'll find it all out. Eventually.
Right now, I'm finishing my last two weeks at the hospital.
Not because Desmond asked me to quit.
He didn't.
In fact, when I told him I planned on giving notice, he looked horrified.
“Myrrin, have I failed to provide sufficient support?” He asked, looking genuinely distressed.
“No!”
“Then why would you leave something you love?”
Because that's who he is.
He doesn't want to take away my independence.
He wants to give me choices.
And after years of overtime and exhaustion and saying yes to everyone except myself…
That still feels strange.
Wonderful.
But strange.
So I gave notice.
Not forever.
Maybe just for now.
Because apparently my Demon husband wants to show me the world.
Literal worlds.
Earth first.
Nightfall after that.
And considering we're still in what Desmond adorably calls our “courtship season,” I figure a little traveling sounds nice.
Especially since every time he says “honeymoon,” his eyes get all soft and dreamy.
Which is hilarious because seven-foot Demons shouldn't look dreamy.
And yet somehow he manages it.
“Thinking dangerous thoughts again?”
I smile before I even turn around.
Because I know that voice.
And I know that scent.
Chocolate.
Cinnamon.
Home.
Desmond wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on top of my head while I stand in my tiny apartment kitchen.
Well.
Former apartment.
Technically.
Because I haven't officially moved out yet.
“Just thinking,” I tell him.
“A dangerous pastime.”
I laugh.
“That's rich coming from the man who rode trains because he was lonely.”
“It was emotionally beneficial public transportation.”
I laugh harder.
“Sure it was.”
His chest vibrates against my back.
That purring thing.
My favorite sound in the world.
“You mock me, Myrrin.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
He kisses my temple.
“I adore everything about you.”
And the crazy thing?
I believe him now.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of magic.
Not because fate said so.
Because every single day since we met, Desmond has shown me.
Love isn't words.
It's actions.
It's showing up.
It's listening.
It's choosing someone again and again and again.
And my beautiful Demon chooses me every day.
Just like I choose him.
Madame says that's the real magic.
Oh yes.
Madame knows everything now.
Apparently, she'd known all along.
Which I still find mildly suspicious.
When I asked how she predicted a seven-foot winged Demon, she just winked and told me a lady never reveals her secrets.
I think she's secretly a witch.
Desmond refuses to answer when I ask.
Which is even more suspicious.
My life has become very strange.
Wonderful.
Impossible.
Perfect.
I spent so many years believing I'd missed my chance.
Believing love happened to other women.
Younger women.
Prettier women.
Women who had everything figured out.
Turns out happily ever after doesn't care how old you are.
Or how many bad dates you've survived.
Or how many nights you've spent alone.
Sometimes your person finds you when you're exhausted and heading home after a twelve-hour shift.
Sometimes he's got wings.
Sometimes he accidentally marries you.
Life is funny like that.
And maybe dreams really do come true.
Not always in the ways we expect.
Not always on our timeline.
But they happen.
You just have to keep watching for them.
And maybe—just maybe—believe in the impossible when it finally arrives.
“Ready, Myrrin?” Desmond asks softly.
I turn in his arms and smile up at my husband.
My mate.
My miracle.
“Ready for what?”
His black eyes sparkle.
“Everything.”
And for the first time in my life—I am.
The End