36

Casimir

I was wrong.

When I thought there could be nothing so satisfying as my sweet Ophelia letting me care for her, I was wrong.

Because if that was satisfying, this is something else entirely. Impossibly, achingly wonderful, to have her in my arms. To taste the certainty in her kiss, to hold her with the knowledge she will stay.

The disquiet of centuries settles into a new, trembling sense of wholeness, of being home for the first time in all my long years of existence. It disappears to nothing, replaced by the steady warmth of the woman in my arms and the sparkling future spread before us.

I deepen the kiss, devouring Ophelia's moan and giving her one of my own. My fangs ache with the need to bite her, to feed from her, to bond her.

But there will be plenty of time for that.

Someday, hopefully not too far in the future, I'll claim Ophelia as my bloodbound. We'll have a lifetime together, and there's nothing in the world so worth waiting for as that.

When we take a moment to come up for air, I cradle Ophelia's face between my palms and run my thumbs over the two stray tears rolling down her cheeks. She lets out a small, breathless laugh and reaches up to cover my hand with hers, shaking her head.

"Sorry," she says.

"For what?"

"For being such a mess. It's been a long morning."

"For you and me both."

"Want to tell me about it?"

I nod, and make no protest when Ophelia takes my hand and pulls me toward the bed in the rear of her van. We could go inside, I suppose, and have a little more space, but I'm more than content to spend some time here with her in the place she's called home for the past few years.

I meant what I said.

If she'd be happier sticking to her life on the road, I'd be more than willing to come with her. Lovesick fool it might make me, but as I'm slowly coming to understand, there is very little I wouldn't do to see her happy.

Ophelia climbs into bed first, settling into the comfortable nest of pillows and blankets. I ease myself down beside her and pull her to me, tucking her into my side and letting out a contented sigh when she rests her cheek against my chest, just over my heart.

"So," she says, fingers moving in lazy trails across my chest, my shoulder, my arm. "How did it go?"

I tell her all of it.

The meeting with the covens. The unrest that's already been spreading through the ranks. The desire for something new, something better in our post-Acts reality. Though secrecy and shadows have served them well for so many years, it seems there are more than a few dissenting voices that would like to live in the light.

Nothing is settled, and I expect it will be a messy, uncertain process of figuring out the new shape of things for this city, but right at the moment it all feels very far away.

"There will be more to come, I am certain," I tell her with one last, long sigh. "And likely more headaches in dealing with Philippe and all the rest of them."

"It's something, though, isn't it? A step in the right direction?"

"Yes, it is," I murmur, and tip her chin up to meet her gaze. "Though I'd be more than content to stay out of the fray for at least a little while, given how entering it went the last time."

Ophelia laughs softly. "Speaking of that, I talked to Cleo this morning."

"Did you? And what did she have to say about our groundbreaking detective work on the case?"

"We didn't get too far into it. There were… other things that came up."

"Such as?"

Ophelia hesitates, and for a moment I'm not sure she's going to answer me. Maybe it's a vulnerability I haven't quite earned, a look into the tender, bruised parts of herself she's not yet ready to share.

But my brave Ophelia surprises me.

"Such as…" she starts, hesitantly. "Feeling like I've always been the odd one out with my family, and always trying to do more to prove myself."

She lapses into silence, but I tighten my arm around her and wait for her to continue, sensing there might be more she wants to say.

"Only… maybe that's not entirely true. At least not anymore. I don't know. Feels like a little too much to work through right now, everything else considered."

I smile and press a kiss to her forehead. "Then take all the time you need. In the meantime, you know just how I feel about you and the wonder that you are."

"Do I?" she teases.

"You absolutely should by now, or I haven't made myself clear enough. And if you don't, I have no problem reminding you until you believe it yourself."

"Deal." Her gaze flicks up to meet mine, and my chest aches at the sight.

Gods above, that look in her eyes.

It was there even seven years ago, wasn't it? The breathless wonder, the spark of something bigger than either of us could have imagined.

But we can't go back, only forward. So I savor that look now, bask in it, silently vowing to make sure I put it there every day for the rest of our lives.

"Anyway," Ophelia says, nestling back into me. "I'm sure at some point Cleo's going to want to hear more about how completely ineffective we were in making heads and tails of this case, but it can wait for now."

"Ah, yes, I believe we should pass that along to your sister for our official report. Completely ineffective seems to be a nice way to sum it up."

We both laugh, settling into each other and the peace of the moment. We stay there for a long time, talking quietly, touching, enjoying the calm after the storm of everything that brought us here.

And later, when we climb out of the van and head inside my home— our home—all that peace and safety follow us inside.

There will be more conversations to have, more hard days to face, but here, now, none of it seems to matter.

Here, now, we're ready to face it all.

Together.