Chapter 67: Forever Yours

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls of the bedchamber.

Elena sighed, grumbling under her breath as she flipped through yet another report from her bedside. Pages rustled around her like restless thoughts. Being forced to rest was already grating on her nerves.

Niegal, ever the patient one, chuckled at the furrow in her brow.

"You're adorable when you're upset, you know that?"

She shot him a side-eye but couldn't help the small half-smile that tugged at her lips. It was well past midnight, and yet neither of them had found sleep; too much to plan, too much left unsaid. Retaliation against the Church, defense of the estate, healing what had been broken. All of it hung heavy in the air between them.

Still, something had shifted.

Knowing now, truly knowing, that Seamus wanted her to move forward, wanted her to be loved, and by Niegal of all people… it steadied something in her heart. A confirmation that her love for Niegal didn't desecrate her grief, nor Seamus's memory. It sanctified it.

And confirmed that what she felt now… was real.

She had told Niegal of the vision days ago. He hadn't said much, just nodded once, jaw tight, but she felt the subtle loosening of tension in his body since. He understood, in the deepest way. Seamus wanted this. Wanted her to be loved by someone who truly could.

Weariness crept over her all at once. With a soft groan, she shut the report and leaned into Niegal's side, letting her body relax. He immediately wrapped an arm around her, setting aside the documents he'd been reviewing. Together, they reclined into the pillows, the low fire painting them in amber gold.

She traced soft circles into his chest with her fingers, his shirt partially unbuttoned — exposing the warmth of skin, the edge of muscle, and the dark thatch of hair over his heart. She could feel it beating, strong and steady.

Niegal pulled her closer, as though still afraid she might vanish. It had been days, but the fear of losing her had not yet left his bones. He kissed her forehead, burying his face into her curls.

Elena smiled against his skin, kissed the slope of his neck. He gave a soft, content sound, somewhere between a sigh and a purr, his hand sliding to her waist.

She kissed him — slowly, warmly. He met her lips eagerly, one hand slipping to the back of her head, fingers curling into her hair as he deepened the kiss.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, firelight dancing in her eyes. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Let's do it."

He blinked. "Do what?" His brow creased. "I don't understand, querida."

She smiled, biting her lip.

"What do you think?" she murmured.

Then she kissed him again, harder, surer, and shoved aside the clutter of books and papers, letting them tumble from the bed without a care. She moved to straddle his lap, her skirts gathering at her hips.

Niegal looked up at her, his silver eyes wide, almost disbelieving.

She leaned in, pressed her forehead to his, their hands clasped.

"Of course I'll marry you."

The words trembled just slightly. Not from uncertainty, well, maybe a little, but from emotion too large for her body to contain.

Admiration filled her gaze. And a flicker of fear… not of him, but of how deeply she meant it.

Niegal's grin spread slow and wide, the kind of expression that made the years fall off his face. His hands settled at her hips, grounding her as he kissed her again- deeply, hungrily, like a man long starved.

They kept kissing, over and over until control slipped away entirely.

Clothes fell, soft thuds and whispers of fabric hitting stone.

He kissed down her chest, her stomach, reverent. When he reached the warmth between her thighs, his mouth met her skin like a prayer. She gasped, back arching, hands clutching at the sheets.

His fingers teased at her lips before slipping between them, and she cried out, pleasure radiating through her limbs like lightning.

Down the hall, their shared bliss echoed more clearly than either of them realized.

Aurora rolled her eyes with a smirk, leaning against a hallway wall. She took a slow drag from her cigarillo, smoke curling between her fingers like a spell. The sounds from the master bedroom were unmistakable.

"Well," she exhaled with a wry grin, "at least someone's having a good night."

Cheri groaned from the next room, shoving a pillow over her head.

"Discretion is dead," she muttered.

Still, Aurora smiled.

The manor was alive again.

A final cry rang out- a shared, primal sound that echoed like a hymn. Niegal and Elena collapsed together, trembling, breathless, completely undone.

His body was still inside her, hips moving with a slow, reverent rhythm, like he couldn't quite stop. Elena moaned softly, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, fingers tangled in his hair.

He kissed her neck, her jaw, her cheek — anywhere he could reach.

"Mine," he whispered against her ear, his voice ragged.

"All yours," she murmured back, eyes fluttering. "Forever yours."

They kissed again. Tender. Hungry. Eternal.