Chapter 55
FAIRYTALE
Bronte
Poppy lifts a thick stack of paper from the desk that has become ours for Bourbon Binds and plops it into my hands before drifting toward the cracked windows and puffing crimson plumes of bourbon-cherry smoke into the early June dusk.
No context, as if I’m supposed to read her mind.
This fucking woman.
“What is it?”
A tut. “Use those pretty eyes, and see for yourself.”
I fan the pages and slowly realize what I’m holding. “You wrote a business plan?”
“Mhm. Mama and Papa helped. I’d like you to review it and edit as you see fit. That is, if you’re still up for being my king.”
Emotion ties my throat into knots. This is the most important decision of her life.
She’s been taking these weeks to think since we moved in together.
To consider her future as a Morgenstern monarch.
Not only as the last living heir shouldering the weight of centuries, but as the one person who holds all the power to reshape our city into the dream she’s had since her innocence was torn from her hands and bloodied with a life of sin.
Living without fear of disappointing either of her parents—but especially her father—has unlocked the cage she was born in.
I’ve never seen her less stressed. I’ve also never seen her more restless.
No expectations have pressured her down one path or another.
What happens from here is solely her decision.
Not mine, not her father’s or her mother’s or anyone else’s.
Hers.
“You’re sure this is what you want?”
“Hai.” Poppy nods, red smoke filtering from her nostrils.
“Leviathan has been quiet for far too long after everything that happened. Even if they are squabbling within their own ranks, one side will win, and we must be prepared for the worst. We need to arm ourselves with enough forces to protect us against them should they strike again.”
“What happens after Leviathan is no longer part of the equation?”
“I’m going to make my dream come true and do what my ancestors originally set out to do: help people.
I’m going to show the Hayashis that they were wrong to believe me only capable of terrible things because of my father’s blood.
I forge my own path, and I’ll do so either alone or with the man I love by my side. ”
The man I love.
This is the first she’s admitting it aloud.
I set the papers down and close the short distance between us. There are no words in any language that can describe the swelling of pride in my entire being.
All I have left are my actions.
My hand rings her throat just the way she likes it. I steal her next breath of smoke, cherry and bourbon flooding my senses the moment our lips touch.
“I am your king,” I say, plucking the little black box from my pocket as I lower to a knee, “if you are my queen.”
Poppy doesn’t breathe as the small hinge creaks open.
Nestled within is the Morgenstern ring of sparkling black diamonds arranged into a crown.
“H-how did you…I-I mean, we haven’t talked about any of this.
What do you expect me to say? Is this because of my decision? Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t—”
“Breathe, Petit Diable.” I stand and sweep the tears from the upturned corners of her eyes.
“What I feel for you has nothing to do with your choice. You’re a friend, a fighter, a lover.
Above all else, you are my home. These are what make you who you are, and that is why I love you beyond measure.
You are my church, my steeple, my goddess.
In this life and every life after. I’m yours, Poppy.
Forever. I just wanted you to know that sooner rather than later.
I think we’ve learned well enough by now that tomorrow is never guaranteed and, as you keep reminding me, we are only human. Not immortal vampires, sadly.”
I trace the shape of her ethereal face. She still doesn’t say anything.
Fuck it. She’s mine, and she knows it as much as me.
My gall drives me to pluck the ring from its nest and slide it onto her finger. Her eyes light up like stars in the night sky.
“Your mother wanted you to have this.” I skim my thumb over the spires of the crown. “I hope that’s all right.”
She rests a palm on the angel guarding my heart. “I love you, Bronte Raziel Bourbon.”
“I know.”
She scoffs. “Egotistical brute.”
I wink. “You love it.”
Poppy smiles, tipping onto her toes to whisper against my lips, “Forever?”
A calm unlike any I’ve felt before settles in my bones, warm as sunlight. I thread my fingers through her hair and capture her mouth with mine in a slow, tender kiss. She tastes like love. She tastes like home. She tastes like a fairytale I’ve only ever dreamed of living.
“Forever.”