Chapter 189: Blue 3
ÉTIENNE
When we finally separated, it was only enough to breathe.
Our foreheads rested together.
I laughed softly.
"I’ve wanted to do that properly for far longer than I should admit."
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"I suspected."
I brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingertips linger for the smallest moment.
"You always notice everything."
"I notice you."
The words settled somewhere deep inside me.
Unable to resist, I leaned in again, kissing her once more, slower this time, savoring the simple miracle that she was kissing me back because she wanted to.
My hands drifted almost absentmindedly to her waist, drawing her a little closer until there was scarcely any space left between us.
She broke the kiss with a quiet laugh.
"Étienne."
"Hm?"
Her eyes flicked toward the main estate before returning to mine.
"Someone could be watching."
I glanced over my shoulder at the darkened windows, then back at her.
"I don’t think anyone will come looking for us."
"I didn’t say they would come looking."
Her smile widened, equal parts amused and flustered.
"I said they could see."
I followed her gaze toward the house and, for the first time since she’d kissed me, remembered we were standing in the middle of a sorta open garden beneath a clear night sky.
A reluctant grin spread across my face.
"That," I admitted, "is a fair point."
She laughed, the sound bright enough to make my chest ache.
When I leaned in again, she placed two fingers lightly against my lips, stopping me before I reached her.
Her expression softened.
"Are you sure you are up for this?" she said. "After today. After everything—"
"Yes," I said. "Entirely."
She looked at me for one long moment, searching my face one last time.
Whatever she found there made her smile.
Then she kissed me.
It was slow, deliberate, stripped of every trace of uncertainty. There was no desperation left between us now, no fear that either of us might pull away. Every gentle brush of her lips seemed to say the words neither of us needed to repeat.
I answered the kiss just as carefully.
My hand found her waist, drawing her closer until I could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing against my chest. Her fingers slipped beneath the open collar of my bloodstained shirt, resting lightly against my skin as though reassuring herself that I was warm, alive, and truly standing before her.
"We’re making a terrible mess of your clothes," she murmured with a quiet laugh.
I glanced down at the dried blood across my shirt.
"They’ve seen better days."
"They have."
Her fingertips traced the torn fabric near my shoulder before she began working at the buttons, one after another, her movements unhurried. When the last one came free, she eased the ruined shirt from my shoulders.
It fell into the forget-me-nots beside us.
For a heartbeat she simply looked at me, not with hunger alone, but with wonder.
"You really healed," she whispered.
"I did."
She brushed her thumb across the place where the wound had once been.
"I still can’t believe it."
I caught her hand and kissed her knuckles.
"You don’t have to."
She smiled.
My own hands rose to the ribbons fastening her gown. I paused, giving her every opportunity to stop me.
She answered by covering my hands with hers and offering the smallest nod.
The knots loosened beneath my fingers.
The elegant gown slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her feet like spilled moonlight.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence felt sacred.
I stepped closer until there was scarcely any space between us, my forehead resting against hers. We stayed that way for a long moment, breathing the same cool night air while the fragrance of the flowers drifted around us.
We moved together without haste, letting each embrace linger as though time itself had decided to slow for our sake. The forget-me-nots bent beneath our weight as we settled onto the soft earth, wrapped in moonlight and the scent of summer blooms.
The manor remained silent behind us.
No voices interrupted.
No footsteps came searching.
For the first time in longer than either of us cared to remember, there was no war demanding our attention, no vengeance waiting beyond the next sunrise.
There was only the quiet garden and this woman I cared about so much in my arms.
The moon climbed higher above us, and the flowers swayed gently in the evening breeze, keeping the rest of the night’s promises to themselves.
Mine would stay with her.
"Mark me," she whispered.
The words were scarcely louder than the breeze moving through the forget-me-nots.
Yet they carried the weight of a vow.
I searched her face, making certain I had heard what she meant, not simply what I wanted to hear.
The moonlight traced the curve of her cheek, caught in the quiet resolve of her eyes. There was no uncertainty there, no hesitation, only a trust so complete it humbled me.
"You understand what you’re asking?" I asked softly.
"I do."
"And tomorrow?"
"I’ll say the same thing."
I lifted a hand and brushed my thumb across her cheek.
"And a year from now?"
Her smile was small, but unwavering.
"I’ll still choose you."
The words settled somewhere deep inside me.
For so long I had believed every choice in my life had already been made by grief, by blood, by vengeance. Standing before her, I realized I still possessed one decision that belonged entirely to me.
I chose her.
Leaning forward, I pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead first.
Then another to the corner of her mouth.
Finally, I rested my lips against the graceful curve where her neck met her shoulder, feeling the quickening rhythm of her pulse beneath my breath.
"You’re certain?" I murmured one last time.
She answered by threading her fingers through mine and giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
"I’ve never been more certain of anything."
I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, committing the moment to memory before I let it pass.
Then, with all the care such a promise deserved, I accepted her invitation and let my canines out and then sank them into the base of her throat.