We weren't normal. And we needed to address our past before it swallowed us whole. Sincerity and hope broke through the clouds like sunshine in a storm.
Tess whispered, "I want to be a carefree again. Someone slightly naïve, a little gullible, and a lot in love. I want to believe in fantasies again, see the magic in the world, and not be terrified of shadows or going to sleep."
My arms fucking demanded to be wrapped around her. Finally. The truth. Just a little but it was more than before.
Then her eyes glossed with tears, and the storm swallowed us again. "But whatever we want, it isn't going to happen overnight. It'll take time."
I growled low in my throat, wanting to tear apart every clock and watch. Time had kept me from finding her. Time meant jack-shit to me. I wanted her to be happy now. I wanted to marry her now.
Time was my fucking enemy.
Tess mistook my silence as consideration. She continued, "What we lived through is part of our identity. We can never erase it. The only way to survive is by accepting-"
My hands balled. "I'm not accepting that this is our life." Motioning between us, I hissed, "This … distance. These … lies. I want more than that, esclave. And I know you do, too."
I looked toward the captain, glad he had his back to us and out of hearing distance. He would never understand the violence, the aggression, the all-consuming passion between us. He would never accept my overbearing temper or quick to flare anger.
But Tess did.
She understood me just like I understood her. I was hers just as much as she was mine.
My eyes drank in the island. I didn't want to leave. I liked this slice of paradise. Nothing could touch me here. An oasis in thousands of gallons of seawater. It would be a good place for Tess to heal. But not yet. I had work to do before I could bring her back.
"We're leaving. We can't do this."
"Can't do what?" The sun shone on her head, looking like melted gold on her shoulders.
"I'm not marrying you tomorrow, Tess."
Her face went white; I swore her heart plummeted into her feet. She looked away, locking her jaw. I loved she was distraught at the thought of no longer marrying me.
In some fucked-up way it gave me the assurance I needed. Time and secrets might wedge us apart but she'd sworn to love me and grow old by my side. That was enough for now.
Rejection wrapped around her, blanketing her in depression. "You've changed your mind?" she whispered. "I knew it was all too good to be true. After all, you deserve so much more." Her voice trailed off.
How many fucking times must I assure her?
"Every second you doubt my feelings for you, you kill another part of me," I growled. "Did my letter mean nothing? Did seeing my raw thoughts on paper not help you realize I would do anything for you?"
My heart stuttered at the thought of her reading my innermost thoughts. The rambling mess I'd jotted down.
The salt-laced air whipped her hair, blowing a few strands around her neck. She searched my face. "Then what are you doing?"
"I'm going to marry you, esclave. That's non-negotiable."
Her chest rose and fell with relief. "Okay … when?"
My mind raced, putting a haphazard plan into effect. "I don't know yet." I gave her a reassuring smile. "But we both know we can't get married like this." I had no idea how I would fix it. If it was even fixable. I wouldn't stop until I'd smashed through the clouds of madness we lived in. I didn't tell her I doubted it was possible to heal entirely or eradicate what we'd done.
I'll make it happen.
I would find a way. I would fix her. I would fix myself.
Holding my hand out, I vowed, "I'll find a way to free you. I'll find a way to make it right." Her fingers interlocked with mine, and I dragged her close. Breathing in her soft innocent scent, I murmured, "And when you're finally happy, I'll give you whatever you want.
"I promise."
Intertwined, tangled, knotted forever, our souls will always be twisted together,
our demons, our monsters belong to the other,
Bow to me, I bow to thee, now we are free
"Well that was the shortest wedding in bloody history," Franco muttered as I slid into the car and slammed the door. Sunshine gave way to shade, providing relief from the piercing glare. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Melting into the leather upholstery, I angled the vents to receive an artic blow from the air-conditioning. Being in the high-noon sun and dealing with the stress of being told I wasn't marriageable material had taken its toll.
Q slid into the limo, slamming the door just as loud as I had. We hadn't spoken a word on the way back; I didn't trust myself not to burst into tears. I'd make a fool of myself by showing how insecure and truly afraid I was.