Page 230 of A Winding Wave of Magic
If this was how it would end, it seemed right.
His fingers traced gentle patterns on my back, a silent reassurance that we were in this together, no matter what. I could feel the weight of his unspoken words pressing against my skin, a mix of love, fear, and resignation. In the stillness of that moment, a bond stronger than any individual magic tethered us to each other.
“I want you to know…” I started before the magnitude choked the words in my throat. But it couldn’t do that to my thoughts.How grateful I am for everything you’ve done.
His eyes wouldn’t meet mine. Uncertainty flowed through his skin.Not sure why. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.
No, I’d probably be somewhere much worse.
That was when his gaze found mine. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? Do you really think your father wouldn’t have found me eventually? Without your help, I’d have had no understanding of who I am. Who Penny was. What my magic was or what I could do. I would have been taken straight to these t-t-torture chambers and if Ihadmanaged to get away, I’d still be at the bottom of this river, left to d-d-die al-lone.” I stuttered as more pending tears choked my throat. “If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me. You’d never have gotten dragged into any of this if it hadn’t been for that will, and then having to take me to Inis?—”
Another sudden kiss stole my breath completely.Stop.
But—
There is nowhere else I would rather be than here with you. His tongue touched mine, and then he inhaled deeply as if trying to memorize my scent.I think I knew the first time I saw you that I would follow you to the ends of the earth. It fucking terrified me. But I have no regrets, Cass. Not one.
He nuzzled my face in a gesture so unbearably tender, I couldn’t help the tear that trickled down my cheek. Nor could I prevent the other idea that crossed my mind and stuck.
Not even one?
He froze when the idea flashing through my head passed through his. “You can’t be serious.”
I hiccuped back a half-sob, half-laugh. “I suppose it’s a bit cliché. Sex at the end of the world.” If there were enough light, I was sure he would see twin red spots appearing on the apples of my cheeks.
Humor curled the corners of his mouth. He did think it was funny but equally marveled at my ability to laugh at our demise.
I dropped another kiss. I couldn’t seem to stop. “Think about it. What else do we have to do but wait for death to come?”
The kiss was returned and deepened considerably. Desire shot through him. He wanted me. He’d never stopped wanting me. Probably never would, even if it was just for our last moments.
But.
“Cass,” he whispered. “I won’t do this to you. I will not be responsible for your end.”
“I’m not asking you for that. I’m asking you to complete me. To let me complete you.” I clasped his face. “Mates are magic split, aren’t they? Looking for its other half. All my life, I’ve felt incomplete. I thought it was loneliness, but I was wrong. It was emptiness.” I pressed a kiss to his lips, then another, and another. “If we’re going to die here, I don’t want to die knowing I could have been whole. Knowing you could have been too. Please, mymate, my…love.Please.”
Jonathan’s hands trembled against my cheeks, his gaze searching mine for any hint of doubt or hesitation. But there was none to be found. At that moment, with the weight of ourimpending doom pressing down on us, I felt a sense of clarity unlike any I had ever experienced. This was right. This was true.
As our lips met in a fierce and desperate union, magic surged, pulling the cord between us taut and strong. There was no room for fear or doubt in this shared moment of raw vulnerability and unspoken longing. It was just us.
When we finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy with emotion, Jonathan’s eyes met mine. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, my heart pounding. “Don’t make me beg.”
We watched each other through the darkness, sitting in our fear and desperation. Through it, though, a sliver of hope seemed to cut through the encroaching shadows. Our essence would be left here for someone else to find. A vision that might fuel another in the darkest moments of their life.
Maybe that legacy was our purpose here after all.
“Jonathan.” I brushed back his hair, so soft and mussed.
“Cassandra.” My name tasted like fresh water and sorrow on his lips.
His hands trembled as they pushed the still-soaked sweater from my shoulders, then found the hem of my dress. Urgency fueled his movements as he lifted the fabric over my head, then made quick work of my undergarments, baring my body to that hungry gaze. A savage gaze.
His eyes blazed, a hunter’s in the dark, as he traced my nipples with his fingertips, which were quickly replaced by gentle flicks of his tongue. My hands slipped into the damp thickets of his hair, urging him closer.
