EPILOGUE
That night I dreamed of Death. His arms were strong and warm, possessive around me. I absorbed his strength, the feel of him. And as I turned in his arms, I saw that he was watching me, his eyes so beautiful in their intensity.
I was Death’s bride now. His for eternity.
He pressed me back, following me until he was leaning over me, the firelight casting shadows over his shoulders as his gaze licked over my naked body. His hand, the one with the onyx ring, slid down my belly, lingering over my womb, before brushing against my wet sex. His eyes glittered, darkened, when he discovered that I was already slick for him.
“Open to me.”
His command was dark and erotic, and I responded to him—giving my body and soul up to him. He thrust inside me, connecting us, giving me once more the raptures of la petite mort—the little death. As he watched me, those beautiful eyes singed my skin, and I felt his breath in my ear, heard his heart beating—for me.
“I love you, Isabella,” he whispered, and I died in his arms, complete, overtaken by his body. I was floating on a cloud of indescribable peace, my body languid, my mind awash in pleasure. Darkness ebbed, and I gave myself up to his embrace, but then I came back, slowly, like a feather flittering to the ground. Death’s kiss brought me into the light, back to life, and I opened my eyes only to find him looking down upon me.
“’Tis not your time, my love,” he whispered. “You will not die tonight.”
“Never,” I said to him, “for I have been blessed by Death’s Eternal Kiss.”
Closing her journal, Isabella smiled in satisfaction. Beside her, her husband stirred. She glanced at him, but she saw he was no longer sleeping, but watching her.
The sheet had slipped to her waist, and Jude reached out, circling her nipple and areola. His gaze flickered to hers. “A man could become rather jealous of his wife’s heroes. How fortunate for me that your hero is the embodiment of me.”
“How right you are. Death has always had your face.”
“Come then,” he said in a husky whisper. “I want some of what you’ve been giving Death.”
With a small cry, Isabella found herself dragged on top of him, her hair sliding along his chest. He made love to her long into the night, and Isabella knew at last what it was to be truly loved.