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His hands roamed all over her, seeking for the wounds he had seen and knew weren’t there.
“Brooke, you’re beautiful,” he told her reverently. Her golden-yellow coat glistened in the
moonlight as she moved against him, in front of him. Her body was supple, lightweight, but utterly
perfect. “Now I understand,” he told her. “Bram wasn’t crazy. He had it right all along.” He felt a
bubble of happiness inside and sought her gaze with his own, seeking her as the only woman he
wanted. “Two brothers for two sisters. It works.” He caressed her head with a gentle hand that adored
her. “I wish you didn’t have to do this.” His voice cracked but he fought past it. “I’ve finally hit the
enlightened age and I might lose you.”
She shimmered beneath his fingertips. She was a goddess in all her glory, kneeling on the ground
beneath his touch and nothing else. Those same fingers wound through the wayward strands of her
hair, a little less perfect after her shift. “I have to Mitch, but I will be here when it is over. I want many
more nights like this. I want a lifetime of this.”
77
“Can you promise me that?” he asked her, sounding harsher than he’d intended. “Can you
promise me you aren’t going to come out here in three nights and disappear? That you won’t die?” He
lowered his head and shook himself. “I’m sorry. I’m the one who took too long to understand.” He bit
back the anger that was too late and useless.
“No, I can’t make that promise. You know I can’t.” Her fingers fluttered over his face. “But I have
a deeper reason for success, a greater fear of failure to encourage me. I want to be here to see you
after.” She captured his wavering hand and he felt his air freeze in his lungs. “I can’t make you that
promise, Mitch.” She leaned forward her eyes sliding closed but he had seen into her heart. Her lips
were warm as she blessed him with her kiss. “But I can give you everything I am. I will offer myself to
you as a woman does, as a lover, as a wife, as a mate. In two nights, you will know and I will have your
faith to keep me strong.”
He crushed her against him. “I will!” he swore. “You know I will.” His voice grew thick with
emotion.
She leaned back. “I can’t change what must be done, but I can fudge it a little,” she hedged.
“How?” Mitch waited as she picked up her sheath, pulling it over her head, letting it cover her
where she knelt before him.
“Can I borrow your knife?” When he offered it, she took the sharp blade and using it, made a
small slice in her forearm.
“What are you doing? Give that back,” he ordered, instantly confused and worried, grabbing for it
to take it away.
She shook her head. “I’ll heal quickly. Make a cut on your thumb.” She handed it back. “Go on,”
she prompted. “A small one is fine.” He took a breath and another leap of faith and did as she said,
wincing at the sharp pain. “Perfect.” She brought herself to her knees and steadily lifted his hand in
her own once more. She blended two drops of his blood over the score in her arm. Then she moved
her arm and he watched as the blood dripped from the slice she had made to rest on his thumb. It was
warm. He didn’t think blood stayed warm.
She began to speak, a melodic chanting voice that wound like silk over his ear.
“Of two hearts, two minds, two souls,”
“I offer me to you, I accept you into me.”
She did the blood exchange again, purposefully blending their blood together on her skin, over the
neat slice in her forearm.
“Of one heart, one mind, one soul.”
Again she allowed several drops to run and land on his sliced thumb. This time he felt a tingle, the
warmth being very noticeable on his flesh.
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