Page 305 of Vasmora

A look of relief flashed across his face.

While I couldn’t fathom a pregnancy right then, I certainly didn’t shun the idea altogether. “Are you opposed to children?”

He shrugged. “No, as long as they’re not mine.”

“You never want children?”

“I never considered it.”

“Why not?”

He blew out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. “I’d make a shit father.”

I brushed my knuckles across his scarred cheek. “I disagree.”

He jerked his head back, expression guarded. “Are you with child? Is that why you’re asking?”

“No,” I said, mindlessly tracing my finger down a groove of muscle peeking through his untied tunic. “But I would consider the possibility.” I flicked my gaze toward his. “Later, though.”

Head tipped, he raised a brow. “How much later?”

I shrugged. “We have a lot of rooms in Eidolon that we haven’t yet made use of.”

The tension in his neck and jaw loosened. “I agree. We should explore every room before considering a child.” He swept his gaze over our surroundings and back. “Perhaps every tree in this forest while we’re at it.”

With a slap to his shoulder, I chuckled. “That would take an eternity.”

“Good thing you’re no longer mortal.”

“That’s a lot of scandalous trysts.”

“Can’t help it. My mate is an absolute goddess. I very much enjoy fucking her.” His fingers threaded through my hair as he pinned me with another kiss.

I pressed my hand against his chest to break our sealed lips. “Okay, how about this? All the rooms in Eidolon. Half the forest. Then we’ll revisit this conversation.”

“You are incredibly tenacious.”

I smiled. “I prefer ambitious.”

“Fine.” He licked his lips and kissed me again. When he pulled away, he jerked his head to the side. “Want to knock another tree off the list real quick?”

“I think we should get back to our guests.” I surged up onto my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. “But, my dear husband, perhaps you should meet me in the gatehouse later, seeing as you’ve already made a mess of me.”

He bent low enough to gather my skirt, reaching up under for the essence drying across my thighs, and grinned. “Perhaps I will, wife.”

EPILOGUE

MAEVYTH

Ten years later …

White linen sheets captured the errant splashes of blood that spewed past the man’s lips. His white hair had been pulled back from his wrinkled face, eyes sunken and weary. I’d only met him twice before, but the sorrow burgeoning in my chest had me clutching his hand, as I stood beside his bed.

“It’s almost time,” I whispered.

Sachets of herbs and spices hung about the small hovel, failing to mask the stench of rot inside of him. Death was never a pleasant smell. His skin carried the telling boils of muripox, the festering disease that might’ve spread through the village had I not been called to intervene.

“Is he in pain?” his wife asked from where she stood across the room with their two fully grown daughters, cloths wrapped around their noses and mouths to prevent breathing in the infection.