Page 132 of Labyrinthine
We offer surrender.
He pulls away first. His breath is uneven.
“You don’t get to break my heart and pretend nothing happened.”
“I’m not pretending.”
His hold tightens and I lean into it. “I wanted you to choose me. Not for what I could offer. Not because I was safe or useful or ordained. I wanted it to be me. Flawed. Mortal. Me.”
A breathless silence falls.
“Is that so wrong?” His voice cracks. “To want to be loved as I am?”
”You never gave me the chance.”
He growls low in his throat. Desire, frustration, hurt—it’s all tangled in his expression.
“I’m done fighting you,” I whisper. “But I’ll fight for you. Every day, every breath. I choose you, Mallen. Not for what you could be—but for who you are. Because now I finally see you.”
His smile is faint. Reverent. Disbelieving.
“And I don’t want my heart back,” I add. “Don’t even try.”
He brushes a curl from my face, his thumb lingering.
“Choose me,” I say. “All of me.”
His eyes close for the briefest second. Then open. Dark and shining emeralds.
“Always.”
My heart stumbles.
He tilts his head, and the smirk returns. Not cruel. Not mocking. Just his—familiar and alive and unbearable in how much I missed it.
“I rather like you bowing to me,” he murmurs.
Then he laughs. Loud and unrestrained. And for a moment, he’s golden with it—reborn, radiant, like a hymn risen whole from the ash.
He steps back. The warmth between us doesn’t cool.
Mallen turns, calling the officer still waiting behind him. The man approaches with two horses. Mine and his.
Mallen swings up onto his saddle with practiced ease, though he grits his teeth as his body twists—and a wince flickers across his face, sharp as a bell’s crack in a ruined cathedral.
I mount without help. His eyes catch the movement.
“We have more to talk about,” he says.
I nod. “I know.”
Mallen raises a brow as he pulls his horse alongside mine. He leans in and kisses me again, and I hear the cheers rise behind us this time. The sound of swords against shields. Shouts and whistles.
I don’t care.
He breaks the kiss first. “Are you blushing?”
“No,” I say. “But you might be.”
