Painted Wings (An Anastasia Remix)

epilogue

"Love is absorbing the pain when you'd rather cry,

celebrating the wins when it makes them fly,

white knuckled waiting, and wide open arms,

carefully pressed kisses in quiet low lit barns."

—Johan Yaelen, Love Is, Love and Other Emotions, a poetry collection

Four months later...

Iris woke with a barely concealed gasp, a splitting headache behind her eyes.

Smooth, muscled skin in front of her had her immediately grounded. She inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled to bring her heart rate back down.

When she'd finally calmed, she couldn't resist carefully tracing the angel wing Acemark in front of her.

The skin in front of her shivered. "I see you're awake, Princess."

She bit her lip, then gave a sudden squeak as Wylan flipped around quickly. Her eyes traced the fit torso in front of her. Damn, but Wylan was built.

"And to think, I thought you enjoyed me for my company."

She giggled. Giggled. Her! "The company is nice, but there are some added bonuses that I also enjoy."

Wylan rolled until he was over her, balancing his weight on his elbows above her head. She squirmed until his hips lined up with hers. The heat that flared in Wylan's eyes in response had her body responding. For a moment, she completely forgot the pounding behind her eyes and the reason it started.

Hard to believe they'd been dating for only four months. Already Wylan felt like an extension of her. He was there with her every second of every training, every council meeting, every interview.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

Iris reached up to run her fingers through Wylan's hair. Tufts of it stuck up at odd angles. She tried to smooth them down, but when it didn't work, she curled her palm instead over his cheek, feeling the stubble there. "Time for a haircut," she told him.

"I'll get one this week," he said immediately. "So long as you tell me what's hurting you."

She frowned.

"You've winced twice in the last minute. Each time when I shift my elbows," he explained to her. "Headache?" He guessed.

He really was an extension of her. How someone could know her so well in such a short time...

It was the Destined bond. She knew it to be true. They'd had a fun time testing the limits of the bond for the last four months. They were connected in seemingly impossible ways sometimes. Attuned to each other in interesting circumstances. She knew when Wylan hadn't gotten enough sleep or when he was irritated. And he knew when she was in pain or anxious.

"Yes, headache," she confirmed.

"Want me to grab some medicine?"

She shook her head. Then whispered, "I remember."

Wylan frowned down at her. "You remember what?"

"I remember."

She could still see it all behind her eyes. The two of them running around the palace gardens as children. Days spent in one of the offices of the First Palace, reading schoolbooks with his mother. Memories of Uncle Demi and her coloring in one of the parlors. She remembered eating dinner with her parents. And crying to Kara about how Wylan wouldn't play with her. She remembered seeing his Acemark for the first time. And her father tucking her into bed at night. She remembered eating pastries with her mother on a private jet. And the flashes of cameras as they got off that jet.

"All of it?" He asked, half holding his breath.

She reached through her mind. Then shook her head. "Not the night the palace burned."

"Everything else?"

"Everything else."

Wylan flipped onto his back, then, his hands were hot on her waist as he pulled her on top of him. "How do you feel?"

She took quick stock. "I'm okay." She said. And meant it.

She was okay. More than okay. She felt... whole. Or rather, more whole. As if a piece of her she'd been unable to reach had finally been accessed.

"You were a mean little boy," she told him.

Wylan chuckled and kissed her shoulder. "I had to be. Someone had to keep you on your toes."

She grinned down at her mate. Her Destined. "Now it's my turn to keep you on your toes."

Wylan Garrick, her Destined, grinned. "That it is, Iris Daniels. I can't wait."