Not ready. Have never really lived.

Tears burned her eyes. She’d spent the bulk of her childhood afraid of her stepdad and stepbrothers. She’d spent the past three years afraid of immortal warriors who’d never harmed her, who’d only ever protected her. She’d spent the past three years afraid of everything and everyone. Foolish! That fear had robbed her of so much, and she had no one but herself to blame. She’d chosen to hide in her room rather than go out with friends from school and create happy memories.

William was beside himself with worry and grief. This morning he’d paced beside her bed. He’d yelled at several doctors, and she was pretty sure he even killed a couple of them—or all of them. Cleaning crews had come in and out, ordered not to look at or talk to her, but her mind had remained in such a haze it had all seemed like a bad dream.

He’d even yelled at his father again.

Transform her! Now!

I can’t.

You can.

All right, I can but I won’t. It will kill her, son.

She’s dying anyway.

This is true, but I won’t be the instrument of her demise. You would never forgive me.

If she dies, I’ll tear this world apart.

Bond with her, then.

I...can’t. You know this.

Wrong. You won’t, as you shouldn’t. But this doesn’t have to be the end for her. You can capture her spirit when it leaves her body. I’ll gift her with a pair of serpentine wreaths and—

No! I won’t allow you to enslave or corrupt her.

I vow I will never call on her services, Hades had said, sounding offended.

You wouldn’t be able to help yourself. The war with Lucifer heats daily. New players are taking sides. Pawns are being destroyed. The coming months in your court will be bad, and they’ll be bloody. There will be major losses for both armies, and I won’t allow her to witness such horrors.

When Hades reminded William that he was a prime target of assassins, that several attempts had already been made on his life while he’d scoured the world for doctors—and one of those attempts had nearly proved successful because he’d been distracted—Gillian had begun to cry in earnest. Her death would only distract him further.

“I’ll find a way to save you,” William said now, drawing her back into the present. How frantic he sounded. How agonized. “You just have to give me a little more time, poppet. Hold on for me. All right?”

Despite her attempt to comfort him, he was going to blame himself for her death, wasn’t he?

Well, then. The first item on her bucket list suddenly crystallized. Save William from himself.

She had to survive this. No if, ands or buts.

So far, her best chance was marriage to Puck. William would never offer. He’d made that very clear. Maybe he’d rethink things now that the end was inevitable, but Puck had told her there was a chance she’d make her husband mortal. She couldn’t risk weakening William in such a way. Especially while his enemies circled like sharks that had scented blood.

Puck, however, was willing to take the risk. At least, he’d been ready...however long ago. Was he still?

If so, she would do it. She would marry him, she decided. She would live, even if she made him mortal.

The sex thing...if he insisted, she could maybe probably hopefully endure it. But maybe he wouldn’t insist. He was the keeper of Indifference, would easily turn to someone else, someone other than his wife—despite his vows to the contrary.

William, on the other hand, would want sex. He would need it; he was a highly sexual creature with the drive of ten alpha males. But he also had a streak of honor he could hide from others but not from Gillian. He wouldn’t turn to someone else after he’d pledged his life to hers, unless she granted him permission to cheat...

And she would. Wholeheartedly.

And she wouldn’t even cry when he did it. Really.

But...a good husband would never stray, even with permission. Correct? Gillian’s biological father—a saint!—never had, while her stepdad never stopped. He was one of the worst human beings ever to walk the earth.

Deep down, Gillian suspected she would grow to hate William if—when—he strayed. Which was ridiculous, considering her stance on the matter! But in the end, they would both be miserable.

So. Yes. Her husband had to be Puck. All she had to do was find him. Or rather, draw him here, because there was no way she could leave this bed.

She whimpered. How was she supposed to draw him here? She couldn’t even lift her head...couldn’t think...think...couldn’t...

Her mind drifted in and out of a thick black cobweb. The times she was aware, the wheezing in her lungs grew worse.

Suddenly her body was lifted from the bed, the most delicious heat surrounding her. Strong arms were now banded around her, and a heart beat against her ear. Confusion settled in. Was William taking her outside? Going to let her die by the water?

“Gillian!” he roared, and he sounded far away.

Not in his arms, after all, she realized, the familiar scent of peat smoke and lavender finally hitting her awareness.

Sweet relief overtook her confusion. Puck had come for her.

“Sorry, lass, but I’ve decided not to let you die. The last time I left you, I felt something. I think it was regret, and I wish to experience it again.”

His greatest aspiration was to feel regret? His life was as sad as her own.

“Will...marry,” she told him. She tried to track their location, but everything was a blur. He must be doing his too-fast-to-track thing. “What...need...do?”

“Just repeat after me.” He turned a corner, her head spinning. “I give you my heart, soul and body.” He waited until she’d echoed him, even though it took her a while; she had to push out the words between panting breaths. “I tie my life to yours, and when you die, I die with you.”

The tone of his voice had deepened, as if the words he’d just spoken carried more significance than any he’d previously uttered.

The seriousness of what she was doing registered. There would be no going back. Once they were bonded, he would be her husband. They would be a unit. A family. And even if she wasn’t having sex with him, he would have to come first. Puck before William.

The burn returned to her eyes. Was she really going to do this?

Her hands and feet grew colder by the second, but her muscles didn’t have enough juice to shiver. She was so close to the end. Too close! So, yes, she was really going to do this.