CHAPTER 442: THE ONLY WOMAN I WILL EVER MARRY

ZINA’S POV

Her world fell silent.

Every sound, the gasps, the rustle of leaves, the faint music of the courtyard fountain which she was just noticing—all of it blurred into nothingness when Daemon’s mouth found hers.

For one heartbeat, she froze.

Then, the year that stood between them shattered.

The walls she’d built during mourning, the prayers whispered into an empty pillow, the lonely nights spent in the Temple wishing she could feel his warmth again and get rid of her aching loneliness—all of them came crashing down as her body recognized the taste of home.

His lips didn’t kiss her the way she had once known. No, this kiss was a storm—hungry, unrestrained, the kind that devoured reason. It was everything she had starved for wrapped in the scent of his skin, the warmth of his breath, and the trembling ache of his who had waited too long.

Daemon kissed her like a dying man who had finally found air.

Like every second of their separation had been a wound that only this could heal.

Her fingers found his shoulders, clawing at the fabric of his shirt as if to make sure he was real. To make sure he was in fact there before her and this was not one of those cruel dreams she always had in the nights she managed to sleep in these past twelve months.

But he was there. Like she was never gone.

His hands framed her face, rough palms trembling slightly, and then they moved down to her neck, down her back whilst tugging her close like he was memorizing her anew.

When he deepened the kiss, she whimpered, a soft, desperate sound that only made him pull her closer. She didn’t care for their audience—only this sensation she had long longed for in a year that felt like a decade.

He tilted his head, his lips slanting over hers again and again until the edges of her control blurred and she was reduced to something that would only live and breathe for him.

The taste of him, ice and warmth wrapped in one, and the faint trace of something dark and wild, stirred every part of her that had lain dormant through the seasons of grief. And their wolves reared to the fore, as if wanting to reach the other.

The last time they had kissed, the world had been falling apart. Now, the world was remade in this very touch.

She broke the kiss only to breathe, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling in small, shattered gasps. His eyes—those golden, burning wolf eyes of his—searched hers as though he feared she would vanish if he blinked.

"Zina," he rasped, voice hoarse, "if this is another dream, I swear I’ll never wake."

She smiled weakly, tears glittering down her cheeks. "Then we will dream together. I happen to have become an expert on that art."

His laugh came to her quiet, broken. His hands trembled as they moved to her waist, tugging her flush against him once more. "You came back to me," he whispered, each word a confession, a plea, a benediction.

"I never left," she breathed against his lips, tears streaming down her cheeks. "To think that you might have thought that breaks me, but my heart has always belonged to you ever since that night I proclaimed you a traitor. No, even way before then."

He kissed her again. Slower this time.

Gentler.

But no less consuming. And she welcomed all of it.

Every brush of his lips told her the things words couldn’t; the sleepless nights, the worry, the ache of watching her from afar and being powerless to reach her. She could taste it all—the grief, the longing, the devotion he’d buried beneath duty and rage.

Her knees buckled beneath the weight of it. He caught her before she fell, holding her like something fragile, like a promise he had sworn never to break again.

When they finally broke apart, their lips were swollen, their breaths uneven, the air around them thick with the scent of yearning.

"Marry me," he said quietly, thumb brushing her cheek.

Her lips wobbled. "I will marry you. Only you. No one else but you."

He chuckled. "Can’t believe you asked that question before me, are you trying to deprive me of my rights?"

She smiled, "I wouldn’t dare, your royal majesty."

His mouth hovered near hers again, barely touching. "I shall invite the priestesses now. We shall hold the wedding here and now.

"As you wish." She whispered, still teary eyed.

"I should give you a grand wedding," he whispered back, "but I am afraid if I let go of you, then you might disappear."

She hugged him hard. "I have already had a grand wedding, I’ve tired of it and don’t need another one. All I need is you, Daemon."

He caressed her back in slow strokes. "I have thought about it for a year, and realized that I was wrong to have said having a child doesn’t matter to me." He suddenly said,

She stiffened, not knowing where he was going with it.

"I should have realized that for someone who grew up alone as you did, being surrounded by your own children will definitely bring you so much joy. So it was selfish of me to underplay your pain simply because I didn’t care for a child."

More tears stinged her eyes while she blinked to clear them away. "That is untrue," she muttered in a choked voice, "everything you said was out of care for me. It is not selfishness."

He hugged her harder to the point of pain, but she didn’t flinch. "So guess what I’ve been doing in the past one year?"

"What?"

"Summoning healers skilled in the matters of the womb and child rearing. They now live in the palace, and will be at your disposal. No matter what it takes, Zina, I shall make your wish come true."

Briefly, she wondered what kind of life she must have lived in her past lives to deserve a man who loved her so much.

And she made a vow to never come up short in loving him back as well.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for waiting, and for loving me."

Before he could answer, Yaren cleared his throat behind them.

"The priest and priestess to officiate the wedding ceremony are here." He announced gruffly.

Zina turned slowly to their audience, and in fact, the duo in question had arrived.

That was quick. Not like she was complaining.

Daemon held her by the hands, raising it up as if to proclaim her before all. "This is the Luna Queen of the North. The only woman I will ever marry."