Melissa Marr - Darkest Mercy

“You know,” he said, “after centuries, there aren’t too many things I can think of that I’ve wanted to try but haven’t.”

“Oh?” Cautiously, she slid her hands over his chest.

“Mm-hmm.” His fingertips traced her collarbone and down her arm, while his other hand unzipped her skirt.

She lifted her hips for him to remove her skirt.

“What did . . .” she started, but her words vanished as he leaned over and kissed her hip.

A few moments later, he whispered against her skin, “You know what I’ve never done?”

Absently, she realized that while he had distracted her with one hand, he’d used his other hand to remove the pajama pants she’d put on him. With effort she forced her eyes to stay open and meet his gaze. “What’s that?”

“Made love as a mortal.” He breathed the words against her stomach. Between kisses and caresses, he asked, “Do you suppose you could help me? Be my first? My only? My till-death-do-we-part?”

“Keenan . . .”

He kissed his way up her stomach and chest until he was stretched out on top of her. “I will love you every minute of every day of my life.”

Tenderness they’d shared before; passion they’d shared before; but the desperation she felt was new. His words broke her heart. “I don’t want you to die,” she sobbed. “We just—”

“I’m here with you in your bed, Donia. Neither of us died today.” He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “Make love with me?”

When she didn’t answer, he said, “Unless you want to wait until after the wedding . . .”

More tears slipped from the corners of her eyes even as a small laugh escaped her lips. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “No.”

He looked nervous for a moment. “But you are going to marry me, aren’t you, Donia?”

“I am,” she promised. “But I don’t really want to wait until after the wedding. You already have my vow. You had it years ago when I promised you forever alongside a hawthorn bush.”

“And you have mine. I’m yours for as long as I live. Only yours. My vow on it.” He lowered his lips to hers, and they celebrated the life, the moment, the time they had together.

As Aislinn and Seth reached the parts of Huntsdale untouched by the violence of the day, the Summer Guards stepped away. They looked at Aislinn expectantly. One of them, a Summer Girl Seth had never seen looking anything other than giddy, nodded. “We will handle what remains to be done here.”

“Run with me, Seth.” Aislinn squeezed his hand in hers, and then before the next breath, she took off.

Unlike when he was mortal, Seth could run without holding on to her now, but he would hold on to her forever if he could. So he held tightly to her hand, and together they sped through the snow-covered streets of Huntsdale.

Once they crossed the threshold of the area where Summer held dominion, more rowan guards stood waiting. They looked at her with a new intensity, and Seth knew that the question that had stood between them was about to be answered for better or worse.

Faeries were filtering into the park around them. As they passed Aislinn, many of them touched her, a brief brush of fingertips over her arm or her hair. They didn’t speak, but their expressions relaxed at the sight of her.

Aislinn kept hold of his hand, but with her free hand, she motioned for him to wait. “You’ve kept secrets from me.”

“Only one,” Seth said.

“You see the future.”

“Yeah.” Seth gave her a wry smile. “But not the parts I wanted to see.”

The Summer Queen looked up at the sky, and a warm rain shower began. The Summer Court faeries raised their arms and let the rain wash away the dirt and blood from their skin. Flowers and grass grew in vibrant waves of color across the ground at the Summer Queen’s feet. Her clothes were clinging to her body, and her hair was hanging in wet tendrils.

Like a pagan goddess.

As faeries began to dance slowly, she looked not at Seth, but at her court. “I told you we would revel once the danger was past. We are here, alive, and your fallen family would not want tears.”

A faery queen.

“How do we remember?” Aislinn called.

The faeries around them caught hands, entangled arms and legs, and watched their queen. They answered:

“In joy.”

“In living.”

“In celebrating.”

Aislinn sighed, and the heat of Summer rolled out over the park. “Rejoice as Summer should.” She smiled, and rainbows arced over the assembled fey. “Chase away sorrow by living.”

Then she turned to Seth and added, “Celebrate.”

After the horrors of the past days, the fight with Bananach, the time in Faerie, being caged by his friend, seeing— and feeling —the loss of so many faeries, he wanted the joy that the Summer Court was allowing themselves. Drenched faeries cavorted around them, almost frantic in their revelry, as if they were taking pleasure for themselves and for their fallen brethren.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked.

And Seth caught her hand in his again. “Yes.”

Vaguely, he was aware that summer fey were cheering, but it seemed distant. Everything was distant, except for the faery holding his hand.

My reason. My everything .

Part of him wanted her to say the words, but the rest of him couldn’t care less. If he had to let her go tomorrow, he would, but tonight she was his. Silently, he followed her away from her faeries, across the street, and to the loft.

Aislinn opened the door to the building. “Be welcome in my home, Seth.”

He stilled. “Pretty formal.”

“Things have changed.” She smiled enigmatically and walked inside.

He reached out to grab Aislinn’s hand again, but as he did so, she was already at the top of the first flight of stairs.

She leaned over the railing and smiled. “You’re awfully far away.”

Vines raced along the railing and burst into flower. Lilac petals rained down all around him as he stared up at her.

“Once you asked me to stop running so you could catch me,” she said. “Do you remember?”

“You were mortal then.” He started up the stairs, not running, but skipping stairs as he went.

She watched him. “So were you.”

“And now?” He was only a few steps away from her.

She laughed and ran up the second flight of stairs.

Seth followed, not as fast as she was, but fast enough that she hadn’t opened the door yet. He put a hand flat on the door and leaned close to her. “So am I to chase you, Ash?”

“When I was mortal, you told me that you’d waited for me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Vines threaded down from her hair and twisted behind him. “Lately, I’ve been the one waiting.”

“Losing you would destroy me.” He breathed the words against her neck. He’d thought about her while he was Niall’s prisoner, thought about never holding her in his arms again. “But I love you, and tonight I need—”

“Ask me. Ask me to choose.”

“Tonight, it doesn’t have to matter. I’m here either way.” Seth didn’t want to speak his fears; when he’d thought he would never see her again, he couldn’t remember why he’d wasted the nights they could’ve had.

“ Ask me, Seth,” she urged.

And he didn’t need to ask the question. He saw that in her eyes, felt it in the way she was wrapped around him. Here. Now. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her the way he had when they first fell in love. When he pulled back, he asked, “And the Summer King?”

“There is no Summer King.” Aislinn reached behind her and opened the door. “He gave up his court.”