as you are willing to serve as my anchor, you will be at my side for all time.”
“What does that mean, serve as your anchor?” I rub my thumb against his neck, over where his pulse beats, hard and fast. Everything about him is hard and fast, and lordy, I love it.
“You give me perspective,” Aron says. “You tell me when I fuck up. You tell me when I am too ruthless. You are my humanity when I threaten to lose mine.”
“And what do I get out of this?”
“My love. Eternally.” With one arm locked around my waist, he takes the hand I have at his collar and presses his mouth to my palm. “You said a god cannot love, but you’re wrong. Ever since you left me, I have been hollow. I am not whole unless you’re at my side, Faith. Be with me? Forever?” He hesitates. “You’ll have to remain with me in the Keep of Storms on my personal plane, but if you like, we can also visit my temples and—”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Yes to all of it. We can live in the sewers of Katharn if it means we’re together.”
Laughter rumbles up out of him. “We don’t have to go that far. But you accept?”
“Of course. I love you, Aron. I have always loved you.” I smile at him, at his beloved, wonderful face that even the eyepatch doesn’t mar. He’s just my big sexy pirate now. “I would do anything for you. That’s why I did what I did—I needed to make sure you were the last man standing. Does this mean we get our bond back?”
“All you have to do is take my hand,” he says, and offers it to me, palm up.
I slap my hand in his so fast that our palms smack. Lightning crackles.
The world flashes around us. Air swirls, and there’s a boom of thunder, and I swear it’s like riding a cyclone. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto Aron, his arms tight around me. My clothing whips around my body as I hold onto him, and I’m not entirely surprised to see that it looks like we’re standing in the middle of a hurricane, the wind so thick and fast and crackling with electricity that it makes my hair stand on end.
“This is how you travel?” I shout into the wind, clinging to his thick neck.
I feel his laughter rumble through my body and he presses his mouth to my skin even as we surge and the tornado seems to move faster. I hide my eyes against him, holding tight.
Then, slowly, the wind dies.
“You can look up,” Aron murmurs.
I do, and we’re no longer in the underworld. We’re in a new place, and I see green, grassy fields framed by distant mountains. There’s a large, stone fortress at the foot of the mountains, and over it, lightning seems to crackle on a constant basis. Above us, the deep purple clouds dance with light and swirl like they’re in a snow globe. It’s terrifying, but also beautiful. “Where are we?”
“This is my home, the Plane of Storms. Here, my faithful make war and then feast with me when the day is done.” He strokes my hair and gives me a hungry look. “I am not a god of peace, or a god of kindness, Faith. I worry you won’t like being here with me.”
I give him an incredulous look. “I’ve known who you are the entire time, Aron. You can be a god of battle. You can be the god of storms. You can be the god of dirty brown assholes, remember? You just have to be my man.” I lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Besides, my schedule’s a little empty at the moment.”
“I will treat you like the goddess you are,” he promises me.
“Am I a goddess, then?”
“You are my anchor and immortal because your life is tethered to mine. In that sense, yes. You will still need to eat and drink and sleep like a mortal, I’m afraid.” His gaze roams over me, and for a moment, there’s a fierce possessiveness in his eye. “But you will never be hurt ever again. Ever.”
“I’m down with that.” I pat his chest. “Can we go home now?”
“Of course.” He lifts a hand to the air, and the tornado whirls around us once more, and we ride it toward the castle.
84
The Keep of Storms is very much a man cave. There are weapons everywhere, a thick, heavy