Epilogue- Rituals & Raspberries #2
His eyes tighten infinitesimally—then he smirks, his mask snapping back into place. “I'm plenty appealing, all on my own, darling. Go.” He nods, “You always were a shit court member.”
I huff, pushing past him with a small smile, “I'll take that as a compliment, you dick.”
His laugh fades as I get closer to the stairs, and I take a breath as I make my way toward everything good.
SETH
You know those slow-motion reveal scenes in movies?
Usually, when emotions are at their peak, and your eyes are already suspiciously misty thanks to the damn montage music that somehow always hits just right?
When your heart flutters just enough to make you a little breathless with anticipation and excitement?
No? Am I the only one who gets in my feels over chick flicks?
I suck in a ragged breath and try to keep my orbs from blinding my mate as she walks toward me—although at this rate, they’re shining enough to lead a fucking sleigh through a blizzard.
Ryn smiles beatifically, and my knees go weak.
She’s gliding toward me—the physical manifestation of every single one of my wildest, most impossible romantic fantasies, only better, because it’s her.
And she’s mine. And gods, so fucking beautiful.
Her custom A-line gown is giving dark fairy-tale princess vibes, with a fitted all-black bodice decked out in intricate beadwork designs and floral appliques.
She had me fashion her necklace into a smaller choker that she could wear with the collar of her dress, and it blends in perfectly, enhancing the deep slit between her breasts, which goes all the way down to her waist. My cock twitches with interest, and I shift on my feet…
as much as it would amuse her, I do not want to pop a stiffie at my bonding ceremony.
Distracting myself, I watch in awe at the way her dress fans out in soft-looking layers of emerald green and black tulle, adorned with sporadic wispy black flowers decorated with beads that sparkle when they catch the light.
Suddenly, she’s stopped in front of me, and I congratulate myself on not turning into a blubbering, pants-tenting mess as her entrance song comes to an end.
Her smile softens as she reaches out, and I envelop her hands in mine, swallowing back a potent wave of emotions as our bond spikes with the simple touch, amplifying our feelings back to each other.
I watch with glowing orbs as her eyes dilate, biting my lip as I step closer and hiding my rogue dick behind the fluffy layers of her dress.
A dimple appears on her cheek, and her eyes shine with satisfaction, knowing full well what she’s done to me.
A throat clears, and we break eye contact to grin ruefully at Hellas, who is decked out in the flashy dress robes reapers historically wear on the very rare occasions that a psychopomp finds a soul-bond.
His usual glare is nowhere to be found; instead, his eyes swirl with tenderness as he dotes on Ryn with an almost paternal affection.
It’s a bit odd, seeing someone who is usually so surly turn into such a teddy bear, but I’m slowly getting used to it.
The fact that every psychopomp we’ve interacted with since bonding has given us the same immediate admiration and deference has been kind of a mind-fuck for me, honestly.
Especially after always feeling ‘other’ among my peers.
I guess in some way, that’s still the same.
But I’m not jaded about it, not when it makes Ryn so fuckin happy.
Watching her bask in the affection of the psychopomp community, after being denied that her entire life by the court she was raised in—it’s validating in some cosmic way.
Like, we needed each other to be complete, both as people and as part of the world we live in.
“Clasp your right forearms together when you’re ready.” Hellas reaches into his robes and pulls out an ornate vial sealed with gold wax.
I lick my lips as we move to do as instructed, dropping our hands and clasping each other's right arms. Ryn’s pale flesh reflects the soft glow of the magic swirling under my own dark skin.
“Sephtis and Tarynn have already bonded and are already a mated pair recognized and celebrated by reaper law and the Guild. However, they wanted to do something further, to have an outward, visible sign of their sacred bond, love, and dedication.” As he speaks the last part, his orbs flare with emotion, smiling at Ryn with veneration.
If soul bonds are rare, marked soul-bonded couples are practically just mythos to the modern-day psychopomp.
Love and gratitude threaten to choke me as my throat tightens with sentiment, but Ryn manages to steady both of our composure by blanketing the bond with a fierce wave of tranquility. I rub my thumb against her skin, thanking her without words.
Hellas looks at Ryn and waits for her nod before he breaks the seal on the vial, uncorks it, and upends it over our joined arms. Shadow dust coats our skin, glowing brightly as tingles radiate over my skin where it touches.
Ryns clears her throat and looks up at me, “For thee my soul was reaped, whilst my heart beats yours to keep. Through dust our bond be bound, the mark of mates be found.” Green tendrils of magic flow from her, wrapping around our arms in an intricate pattern as she speaks.
A shiver runs down my spine at the sight, her magic hovering, waiting to brand me. Her eyes shine with hunger and delight at the visual of her proprietary claim.
An instinctual need has my vow spilling from my lips in a low growl, as I ignore Hellas’s grunt of annoyance at my impatience.
“Souls entwined, hearts combined, life-force interwoven. Through dust our bond be bound, the mark of mates awoken.” Shadows burst forth, joining Ryn’s magic and encapsulating our arms. Green and black meld together as the shadow dust grows brighter where it shines through the gaps in the patterns circling our arms with swirls of magic and shadow.
I feel a stinging heat crawling over my skin, and gasp as the magic and shadow shrink down around our arms. With one last flash of light, the colors separate—green banding around my skin, and black weaving around hers.
A surge of possessiveness takes me by surprise as I stare at the intricately braided black bands woven around her lower forearm.
Fuck, that’s it. That’s my mark on her. She’s…she’s mine. Just as I think nothing could ever make me happier than the sight of my mark on her perfect flesh, she runs her fingers over my wrist, and I glance at where they rub, freezing in place.
I knew in theory that I’d be marked as well, but I didn’t think I’d really be able to see it, considering the makeup of my skin doesn’t allow for tattoos or other sorts of markings.
But there it is. I’m—I’m marked. Not so much my skin, but in the magic swirling underneath it, my core, matching green bands glow, fixed in place, as the magic and shadow coalesce around it.
I can hear Hellas’s intake of breath and applause from our friends and family, but Ryn’s whispered, “Mine,” is what brings me back to myself all at once.
My orbs leak as I pull her against me, and she hoists herself up, wrapping her legs around my waist as best she can without ruining her dress.
Her mouth crashes against mine, kissing me without a single fuck that we’ve got an audience cheering us on and whistling their encouragement.
Hellas clears his throat, and I throw up some shadows to give us privacy until our emotions have a little time to regulate.
Thankfully, he gets the hint and signals that our guests should move on to the reception.
Ryn grinds against the steel bar of my cock, and I groan against her lips, “Baby, if we want to make it to our reception, we have to stop.”
She’s panting so prettily, and her little whine of frustration makes my dick throb, but there’s a sort of electric stirring under my skin that makes me feel like anything we start now wouldn’t be finished quickly.
“We can be quick. No one can see.” She kisses behind my ear, and I moan pathetically as she breathes against my skin, “I can be quiet.”
“I–I can’t. I’d be loud as fuck, baby. You know it. And I—” I swallow, trying to get my brain to catch up with my mouth, “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to control the knotting right now. I can f-feel the magic demanding it.”
Ryn pulls back, her eyes sparkling with desire, and pouts. She must see some indication of how close to losing my shit I really am, because she sighs and nods, pressing her forehead against mine as we catch our breath and force a leash on the unfettered need coursing through our amplified bond.
After a few minutes, she unhooks her hands from around my neck and brings her arm between us, admiring her marks with glassy eyes.
“I love you, Seth.”
My heart stutters, and I press a kiss to her forehead. With more sincerity and earnestness than I think I’ve ever managed in my existence, I breathe her in and whisper, “I love you so fucking much, Ryn. Thank you.”
“Here, try this, it’s fucking delicious!” I attempt to shove a raspberry popover into Cian’s mouth, but his hand flies up, and he grabs my wrist.
His eyes narrow, and just when I think he’s going to yell at me about how he’s told me not to shove things in his mouth before (leaving himself open for a truly hilarious pun), he surprises me.
Leaning in and holding eye contact, he carefully pulls the popover into his mouth, avoiding my fingers and any sexually suggestive innuendoes I could have made about that.
Did he just pull a fucking reverse card?
I frown, and he smirks, looking at Oliver as he replies, “Delectable.”
Oliver’s cheeks turn pink, but he huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “Thanks.”