I stared into his loving eyes. He was right. I couldn’t dwell on what could have been, on a temporary weakness. In the end, I remembered who I was. I buried my face in his chest, never wanting to leave his side again. “It’s finally over.”
“And you went and had all the fun on your own again,” he said, feigning injury. “It really is quite inconsiderate of you.”
“Not true, dear friend. You had the joy of being poisoned. Not many people can live to tell the tale.”
“We both know you’re the hero.” He grinned. “It actually makes my dark heart race, seeing you take on the world.”
“Are you suggesting you’re impressed?”
“Let’s see, Wadsworth.” Thomas ticked off points on his fingers. “You’ve carved open dozens of bodies from London to Romania to America, been held at gunpoint beneath a castle once owned by Vlad the Impaler, got stabbed while defeating a deranged carnival, and have just captured the White City Devil. All before turning eighteen. I’m downright woozy with want. I beg you to ravish me now before I lose my mind.”
“I love you, Thomas Cresswell.” I kissed him gently. “With my whole heart.”
“Beyond life. Beyond death”—he nuzzled my neck, whispering—“my love for thee is eternal.”
“I adore when you say that.” I smiled against his lips. “Tell me, though. How long have you been practicing it for this moment?”
He nipped at my neck, eyes brimming with mirth. “Not nearly half as long as I’ve been plotting our next adventure, you delightfully cruel thing.”