“That’s pushing it.”
“Okay. You’re perfect for me, which is why I love you. It’s why I’m going to marry you. And it’s why, as soon as I get you alone, I’m going to . . .” She put her lips to his ear and started whispering.
Her skin heated as she got to the nitty-gritty and heard his breath quicken, felt his fingers tighten on her hips. The air around them hummed with equinox magic and the blood began to roar through her veins like—
“Whoa!” Rabbit pulled away and put himself between her and the bonfire, which suddenly flared higher and hotter, reaching up into the night sky. “Sorry. Got a little carried away there.”
But when he gestured to bring the flames under control, the bonfire didn’t respond, even when Myr added her magic to his. Instead it burned even brighter, flaring into strange shapes and moving like a living creature. It wasn’t under their control anymore!
“Wait!” She grabbed his arm. “Look!”
The flames curled into the shape of an animal’s head on a man’s shoulders. It wasn’t any critter that’d ever done a cameo on Animal Planet, though.
It was Seth.
The god didn’t speak, but it moved within the flames and the smoke, turning to peer down at Rabbit and Myrinne. Its eyes shimmered, and the radiance of golden magic emerged from the flames and snaked to wrap around them, touch them, twine around their wrists.
Myr gasped as her skin heated, then burned, and something shifted inside her, soldering into place with a click that she felt more than heard. Then the burn faded and the smoke withdrew.
“Gods,” Rabbit whispered. “Father. Thank you.”
The giant head of flame tipped once in acknowledgment, then shimmered and disappeared. Moments later, the fire died down to normal once more, leaving a stunned, awed silence behind.
“Did that just happen?” Leah whispered. Her face was lit with wonder and her hands were wrapped around Strike’s arm as if she’d had to hold him back from coming to Rabbit’s aid.
Rabbit hadn’t needed help, though. And Myr had a feeling he’d finally gotten what he wanted. What they both wanted, though they had trained themselves not to care.
Now, though . . .
Holding her breath, she put her right forearm near Rabbit’s, both of them facing down. “You ready?” she whispered as her heart drummed against her ribs.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“On three. One . . . two . . .” On “three” they both flipped their wrists over to show their marks. And sure enough, they both had a new golden glyph: the intertwined curlicues of the jun tan. The mated mark that signaled the gods’ acceptance of their paring.
Finally, Myr thought. Or maybe she said it aloud, because Rabbit looked at her with a quick grin that did nothing to wipe the awe from his face.
“Myr . . . gods. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Tears were running down her face, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t thought the jun tan would matter, but it did. It really, really did. Because as she held him, kissed him, she could feel the magic of their new connection, feel the love washing from her to him and back again. More, she felt him. He was tough and solid, and ready to go to war for her, for what he thought was right. He was her soldier, her lover. More, he was Rabbit. Her man. Her mate. Her one and only.
And her husband-to-freaking-be, thankyouverymuch.
The next twenty minutes or so were pretty much a blur to Rabbit. He got his hand shaken and his back thumped enough that his shoulder started to tingle. Or maybe that was just part of the whole-body sizzle that’d hit him about three seconds after he got the ring on Myr’s finger and the first wave of Oh, holy shit, I’m getting married! hit him for real.
He’d known what he wanted, had known he was going to ask her, of course; hell, he’d had the ring for nearly a month, burning a hole in his frigging pocket. He’d wanted to wait until today, though, to share the moment with their teammates and the magic of the equinox. No way he’d expected Seth’s trick with the fire, though, or for the god to give them their mated marks. That added a whole ’nother layer to the tingles, that was for sure.
As the crowd around him thinned a little and the congratulations died down, he took her hand and brushed his fingertips across her mark, feeling a skim of heat shiver through his own forearm.
He grinned. Oh, yeah. This was going to be very cool.
“Happy?” she asked with a sassy, knowing arch of one eyebrow.
“Very. You?”
“Duh.”
He chuckled and tucked her close against his side, “Yeah. Duh.” Their style might not work for everyone, but it was perfect for the two of them, and that was what mattered, wasn’t it? He didn’t think he’d ever find someone else who got him the way she did, or who made him want to protect the hell out of her on one hand, while challenging her to go faster, farther and hotter on the other. And the thing was, as he looked around, he saw the same kind of love in each of the mated pairs—and in the family joy of Patience, Brandt and the twins—as they leaned into each other and laughed, touched, looked. There was love in every small gesture and moment, reaffirming the bonds that they might have discovered in the years leading up to the war, but that would last for decades to come.
He didn’t know if it was because the magic-users were wired to love so deeply and fiercely, a trick of the jun tan, or what, but he got it now, more than he ever had before.
Looking up at the sky as the fire started to burn low, he let out a long, slow breath. “It doesn’t excuse everything you did, you know.”
“What?” Myr had been talking to Anna—he had tuned out at the first mention of bridesmaids—but now she zoned back in on him and followed his eyes to the sky. “Are you looking at the moon?”
“No. Those five bright stars over there.” He pointed. “They make up the great boar constellation.”
“Your place in the sky.”
“And the old man’s.”
She tightened her grip on him. “He’s gone.”
He shook his head. “Not really. He’s still stuck in here.” He tapped a thumb on his chest. “I can’t . . .” He glanced off to the side, to where the ceiba spread its huge branches far overhead. “I’ve fought and I’ve protected, but I haven’t really forgiven, until now.” Looking back down at the others, he swept a hand toward the mated pairs. “Look at them. Hell, look at us. What we’ve got is special. It’s everything. If you had died—”
“I didn’t.”
“But if you had, that would’ve been the end for me. I would’ve . . .” He trailed off, not wanting to say what was in his heart. Not with the gods so near, with their gift so fresh. “Anyway. I understand better now what happened to the old man, how it must’ve felt to watch Cassie die, then see the boluntiku race off to Skywatch, knowing they were going to kill his sons and not be able to do a damned thing about it. Look at Brandt.” He pointed to where the big Nightkeeper had Harry on his shoulders and Braden swinging from one of his arms, the three of them laughing like loons while the puppy barked like crazy and jumped up, trying to nip at the boy’s sneakers. A few feet away, Patience stood back with Jox and Hannah, and tried to look like she thought they were a bunch of idiots. Her eyes danced, though, giving her away. “Think of what he’d be like if he’d lost that. If any of us had lost each other.”
“It didn’t happen.” She pressed her face to his arm. “We’re all here. I’m here.”
“I know. But the old man didn’t have that, he hadn’t had it for a long, long time.” Looking up at the Great Boar, he said, “I owe you, old man, for getting me away from Oc Ajal, away from Phee and Anntah. I owe you for raising me on your own, and when you couldn’t handle that anymore, for bringing me to live with Jox and the others. I owe you for coming back and helping the others find me, and for telling me the truth about who I am. I’m grateful for all of those things, even if you didn’t really do them for me. And I get it now. I understand why you were the way you were. That didn’t give you the right to be an asshole or a shitty father, but it gives me a reason to let it go. So there it is. I forgive you, Father. It doesn’t matter whether or not you give a crap, because I do. I forgive you, and I hope you’ve found your peace up there with your family.”
