I relayed the DEG’s next words: “I’m going to make you mortal so you may live and die as you’ve always wished. You will not perish with the Earth.”

She whirled back to me. “Why would you do that? I left you and your world to die.”

I stared into her vaguely puzzled, sad eyes and these words were my own: “There was nothing you could have done to save us. No more than I.”

The DEG whispered in my brain the keywords to sort through my mental files so I could find the spell to transform her. Along with his words came a rush of dark power, and I whizzed through the tabs so quickly it pissed me off that he hadn’t been around a few weeks ago when I really could have used this kind of boost.

Then another flood of raw, unfocused energy exploded inside me as he boosted me further since I could no longer tap into the earth.

I murmured the words of an ancient curse used to turn a Fae human as punishment by the queen. Aoibheal stiffened and hissed, doubling over as she transformed. Then I felt another jolt of magic flow through me from the DEG, and her hair and skin began to darken to a lovely shade of brown. Glossy dark curls tumbled to her waist. Her clothing shimmered, shifted, and flowed into a brilliantly colored tunic.

When finally she straightened, she inclined her head in an imperious nod, then with her bird on her shoulder turned and walked slowly, stiffly, into the forest.

“Awk! Fly now!” the bird squawked.

She paused and glanced up at it. With a ghost of a smile, the concubine removed her shoes and curled her bare toes into the leaves and soil. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

Then she shook herself, gathered her skirts and dashed off into the lush, dense wood.

The brilliant squawking bird soared into the air, taking flight above her.

We stood, watching, until they’d both vanished.

Abruptly, I was back at BB&B, alone.

I sank down onto the sofa and sighed.

The iconic love affair was truly, irrevocably, over.

The concubine was finally all she’d ever wanted to be: mortal. She would die.

The king would go on.

With a heart that was heavy for too many reasons to count, I stretched out on the Chesterfield and waited for Barrons to come home.

I woke to his hands on me, sliding up beneath my shirt, closing on my breasts, and lust and need and grief exploded inside me. We shed our clothing urgently, kissing so deeply we couldn’t breathe, and I knew a thing about breath—you didn’t need it when you had this kind of love.

And you didn’t want it if you lost this kind of love.

Once, what seemed another lifetime ago, I’d decided to destroy the world because I’d lost this man. I hadn’t made that decision when I’d lost my sister.

And now I was going to lose him again.

I didn’t want to keep breathing without him. I couldn’t see myself transferring what True Magic remained to another Fae, going off world with my sister and parents and leaving him to die without me. Assuming I tried, I knew I’d never fall in love again. Where was I going to find another man like Jericho Barrons? He was a singularity. And every man I met would only end up getting compared to what I’d loved and lost and, no, I didn’t believe one day I’d “get over him.” There are some people you never get over.

I was unable to make myself want to live without Barrons. I wasn’t embracing death. I didn’t want to die. But if my choices were living without him for a long time or living with him for every minute I could, however brief, there was no contest.

If there was an afterlife, I was taking my chance to go on with him. Heaven or Hell. I would live with this man and, by God, I would die with him, too.

“It’s possible,” he said, moving inside me, “that I won’t die right away. It’s possible I could go off world with you and live until I died that first and last time. Then simply not be able to be reborn. We might have a natural life span together.”

“Do you know that for certain?” I gasped as he thrust deep.

He didn’t answer but I didn’t need him to. I’d overheard a conversation he’d had with Ryodan the other day. Due to their origins, somehow, none of them was sure they wouldn’t simply cease to exist the moment the Earth did, no matter where they were in all the galaxies, just like the Fae.

“I’ve had a long life. You haven’t. You love your family. Go to another world. Find a…a husband—” He broke off and that rattle began deep in his chest. His next words came out thickly, around fangs. “Have children. Rebuild the human race. Live all those dreams you used to have.”

“Used to,” I agreed, nipping his full lower lip. “Don’t anymore. Can’t even conceive of them. You’re my dream.”

“You can’t just throw your life away.”

“What I can live with. What I can’t live without. You taught me that.”

“Well, fucking unlearn it!” he exploded with such violence I startled and drew back. “Do you think I want to watch you die?”

“Ditto,” I said coolly. “You don’t get to make my decisions for me. It’s my life and only I know what I need and what I’m willing to go through. I don’t want to live without you. I felt that once. I never want to feel it again.” I’d been lost, purposeless, denied Heaven. It was as if his frequency and my frequency made such an exquisite song together that without it I wasn’t alive.

“You’re being a bloody fool.”

“As if you haven’t been a time or two. Jericho, I’m holding your hand right up till the last. We’ll sit up high on Dani’s water tower, watch the world blink out and blink out with it. I’ll be staring into your eyes at the end. And we’ll smile. And I’m okay with that.” I was more than okay with that. It felt right somehow. I’d found my soul mate. And whatever adventure was coming next, I was meeting it with him. Or drinking deeply of oblivion without him. I couldn’t leave him. It was no longer possible. I wasn’t sure it had ever been.

Neither of us spoke again with words, just our bodies, as we dumped our love and sorrow and need and commitment on each other. We made love and we fucked, we slid together gently and crashed together like two great stones trying to chisel each other into another shape, aware that even if we managed to shave off a few slivers, our fundamental natures would never change. We were what we were.