“Always, Baby Girl,” he replies gruffly.
I turn to the other side to find Loki studying me.
“Thank you, Loki.”
“No need, my heart,” he says, reaching out to stroke my slightly damp cheeks. “I’d do so much more without even a thought,” he adds, fresh moisture stinging my eyes at his heartfelt words.
I turn my head to find Kai’s honey amber eyes watching me with such love it steals my breath for a moment.
“I told you, darling,” he says, stepping closer to my back until I can’t see him as he’s right behind me, his scent of fresh woods after the rain mixing with Ash’s. “Everything I am, or ever will be, is yours,” he whispers in my ear, placing a soft kiss on my neck that sends tingles racing over me, despite my sadness.
I stay surrounded by my guys, my warriors, my Knights, for several minutes, breathing them in under the winter sun, the sounds of birds chirping in the background.
Inhaling deeply, they give me the strength to look round, remembering that Lex and Ryan are here too. I find Lexi’s green eyes, not far from where I stand, swimming with tears as she looks at me surrounded by my guys.
“Your mum would have been so happy to see you with them, Lilly Bear,” she tells me in a choked voice.
Fresh tears well in my own eyes at that. Kai steps back and to one side, and I turn in Ash’s arms so that I’m facing Lex and Ryan.
“For what it’s worth,” Ryan begins, stepping closer to us, glancing at each of the guys in turn. “You have my approval and blessing. They are good guys, little one.” He gives the guys a sharp nod, which they return.Men.
Kai takes a step forward, looking at me as he takes a piece of paper out of his pocket.
“I have a poem that I’d like to read, if that’s okay with you, Lilly?” he asks, and I give him a wobbly smile.
“I’d love that,” I say, my heart swelling.
He turns to face the grave, but still so that I can see him in profile and begins to read.
“‘Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.’”
He turns to look at me once again, his features soft as he takes in my tearstained face.
“It’s calledA Thousand Winds, by Mary Elizabeth Frye,” he tells me.
“It’s beautiful and perfect,” I whisper, reaching out to take his hand, bringing it up to my lips and placing a kiss on his knuckles.