Sighing, Vika dumped the fruit and veggies into the sink and began to wash them.
A flash of bright light erupted behind her, and she grabbed an apple and turned, ready to launch it. The last bright light she’d seen had ripped her out of the only real home she’d ever known and taken her back to the circus . . . to Solo’s destruction and disappearance.
A tall, muscled man stepped from the center, and she launched the fruit. It slammed against his chest, bounced to the floor and rolled.
“Some greeting,” a familiar voice said.
Breath caught in her throat. “Solo?”
The light faded, and she was able to make out his features. He’d lost a little weight, and there were bruises under his eyes, but he was the most beautiful sight she’d ever beheld.
“You were expecting someone else, sweetheart?”
“Solo!” She threw herself into his arms, and he wrapped her in his embrace. He pressed his nose into her neck and breathed deeply. “I knew you were alive! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! And I knew you’d come back!”
“Of course I came back. You’re here.”
Wait. Her face was buried in his neck, and yet he’d heard her. “We can both hear,” she said, gazing up at him.
“My ears are operating at low volume.”
“Mine too.”
“We’re sharing the ability, then. And before you start to feel guilty, you should know that I’m happy to share. I . . . love you, Vika Lukas.”
Her bones nearly liquefied. “You love me?”
“With all that I am.”
“Oh, Solo, I love you, too. So very much.”
He cupped her cheeks, kissed her. “Where’s the Targon?”
“He left.”
“Really?” Confused, he peered down at her. “But I gave him the farm.”
Her heart nearly burst. “You traded the farm for me?” The otherworlder had mentioned Solo had been willing to give up a lot for her, but she’d never suspected his farm. His paradise.
“I would trade my life for yours.”
“Oh, Solo,” she sighed.
“Vika, my Vika.” His thumbs stroked her. “You’re going to marry me, and I won’t tolerate an argument.”
“I’ll argue only if you want a long engagement.”
“That’s good, because I plan to marry you today.”
“That’s too long,” she said, and laughed with abandon. “Oh, we’re going to have the most amazing life.”
“Yes, we are.” He picked her off her feet and spun her around. His heart beat against hers, the two forming the perfect rhythm. She let her head fall back, watched as the ceiling spun round and round. Then he carried her to the bed and tossed her atop the mattress.
He was on her before she finished bouncing, his weight pinning her.
He kissed her, then lifted his head and peered into her eyes. “Are you ready to exchange vows?”
“It’s that simple? Really? Just like that, you’ll be mine?”
“Forever.”
“Do it, then. Vow.”
He grinned at her exuberance. “I am yours, your husband now and forever. What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. I vow it. You will now say the words to me,” he instructed.
With pleasure. “I am yours, your wife now and forever. What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. I . . . vow it.”
She didn’t expect anything to happen; she’d made vows to him before, and nothing ever had. But oh, was she wrong. Her back bowed, and a cry split her lips. His back bowed in the opposite direction, and a cry split his lips. Suddenly she felt torn apart, limb by limb, piece by piece, and even down the middle.
Slowly, so slowly, though, the pieces began to return, as though she were Humpty Dumpty, being put back together again. Only when the transformation was complete was she able to relax into the mattress.
Solo sagged against her. He was panting, sweat-damp.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, don’t ever do it again.”
“Me?” He somehow regained his strength and placed a thousand kisses along the curve of her jaw. “Maybe it was you.”
“No, you. So are we married now, or what?”
“We are, and don’t you forget it.” He lifted and meshed his lips to hers.
Thirty-six
I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.
—SONG OF SOLOMON 6:3
SOLO’S HANDS SHOOK AS he stripped his wife. His beautiful wife. Pale hair was spread out over his—their—pillow. And now . . . now, her rose-tinted curves were atop their bed, just the way he’d once imagined.
He could have her here every night. Every morning.
They could talk and laugh, and hold each other. They would grow old together. Have children.
“I once thought the three most important words in creation were ‘whatever proved necessary,’” he said.
“And now?” she gasped against his mouth.
“Now I know I was wrong. The three most important words in creation are ‘I love you.’”
Her expression, already soft, utterly melted. She held out her arms, tracing her fingers through his hair. “My one day has finally arrived, and it’s more wondrous than I ever supposed possible.”
“For me too. I missed you more than I can ever say. I missed trading senses with you. I missed your scent and your voice and your laugh and your touch.”
While on Alloris, he’d briefly considered hunting down someone who knew how to use black magic to open a solar flare. But then he’d recalled the price Jecis had paid for such an ability, and the way the man had changed over the years, and he had known not to dabble in such things, even to obtain what he wanted most.
Thankfully, there had been another way. The way his mother and father had used.
Natural solar flares.
All he’d had to do was wait in a quarantined area all of Alloris avoided. Only a rare few had ever left Alloris or had ever wanted to leave. It was a land of beauty, of peace, of joy. A few, like his father, had turned their backs on the utopia, choosing to break the rules, which was why the area had not been destroyed.
Solo hadn’t turned his back. He just hadn’t wanted to stay there alone. One day, he would take Vika there. One day, he would see X again.
“I missed you, too,” she said. “So much.”
He pressed his lips into Vika’s, tasting her, enjoying her, relearning her. He caressed her, and when she could take no more, when she was fighting for breath, trembling uncontrollably, he forced himself to slow.