Chapter 477: Hundred years

Chapter 477: Elara

It does not feel like I am on earth anymore. It feels like I am on clouds, in the sky. Daphne carries me and turns.

And this is something I know will be a core memory for the rest of my life and lives after.

The music swells around us. The lamps glow. The floor reflects our movements like a mirror.

I think I’ve fallen in love again.

***

Daphne

Well, with how happy she is, I should have done this earlier. And her happiness is contagious—I feel myself being happy. Well, I am always happy, but even more in this moment.

I let go of her hand as she turns. The dress flows around her. She looks like a fairy, her red hair spinning in the dark light.

She spins.

And spins.

And spins.

The world narrows to this moment.

She turns to look at me, and my heart leaps out of my chest.

Her hair is no longer fiery red, but sunlight blonde. Her eyes are no longer green, but like the bluest sky.

It is not Elara anymore.

Evelyn.

She gives me that graceful smile of hers—the one that never failed to steal my breath. She reaches out her hand.

I hesitate for a moment. Just a moment.

But she takes my hand.

I look up.

It is Elara again.

It was only for a moment.

"What?" Elara asks, tilting her head.

"Nothing," I say. "You are beautiful."

She rolls her eyes.

I think I imagined it.

But I know I did not.

I take Elara’s hand and dip her. She laughs.

The sound brings me back. The warmth of her hand. The light in her eyes. The way she looks at me like I am the only person in the world.

I pull her up.

I hold her close.

"I love you," I say.

"I know," she says.

She places her hands around my neck and kisses me.

She pulls away and places a hand on my chest.

"It is so obvious," she says. "With the way you look at me."

"I do not think it is that obvious," I defend.

"Even if I do not remember you, your eyes will betray you." She holds my cheek.

"I have a really good poker face," I grumble.

"Not to me."

I try not to smile but fail. She holds the corners of my mouth with her fingers.

"You are perfect," she says.

"Am I?"

"Yes. When I think of perfection, you are what comes to mind."

I feel my heart swell.

"You cannot just say things like that," I say.

"Why not?"

"Because I will fall in love with you all over again."

She smiles.

"That will happen regardless," she says.

I laugh.

She is right.

It happens every day. Every moment. Every time she looks at me. Every time she smiles. Every time she says my name.

I fall in love with her again and again and again.

I do not say that, though.

I turn my head and bite her fingers.

She laughs.

I take her hand in mine.

"Tired?" I ask.

"Do not underestimate a wolf’s stamina," she says.

"Very well. Let us dance until our feet fall off."

"Do not threaten me with a good time."

***

Elara

I wake up slowly, my body aching in the best way possible.

The sun is streaming through the curtains, casting golden lines across the bed. The room is warm.

I turn my head.

Daphne is beside me, still asleep. Her dark hair is spread across the pillow, tangled and messy. Her lips are slightly parted. Her breathing is slow and even.

I watch her for a moment, memorizing the lines of her face. The curve of her jaw. The way her lashes rest against her cheeks.

I reach out and touch her face.

She does not stir.

I trace the line of her cheekbone. The curve of her lips. The space between her brows.

It is amusing how I can touch her like this and she will not stir. But if it is anyone who is not me—even if they breathe wrong—she will be awake.

Seriously, these two.

I smile.

I continue tracing the lines of her face. Not liking how peaceful she is, I move her upper lip. It is not a human canine—it is a panther one. So sharp.

I run my finger along it.

She yawns, and I grab her tongue. It is rough, with those little spines on it that make it feel like sandpaper—well, sandpaper is not right, because they feel good.

She opens her eyes.

"Uh hh huh hh hh hhuuuh?" she asks.

Translation: "Why do you have my tongue?"

"Because I want to," I say.

She glares at me.

"How. Scary," I say, laughing.

She narrows her eyes.

"You know that saying—cat got your tongue?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes, knowing where this is going.

"I got a cat’s tongue." I say, and start laughing. I let go of her tongue.

"And you say Lyra’s mischievousness comes from me?" Daphne says.

"It is definitely from you," I defend through giggles.

"I am normally poised and mature. You are rubbing off on me," I say.

She pulls me down.

"I will show you mischievous," she says.

I am thinking she is going to kiss me. Instead, she pins me beneath her. Then she tickles me.

"No—"

"Stop!—"

"Hahahaha!"

I thrash beneath her. I try to push her hands away. But she is stronger. She always has been.

She tickles harder.

I scream with laughter. My stomach genuinely hurts. I use my secret method—while laughing, I lean forward and kiss her.

It works because she freezes and stops to kiss me back.

Her hands, which had been tickling me, now rest on my waist. Her body, which had been pinning me down, now presses against mine.

I wrap my arms around her neck.

She pulls back.

"That is cheating," she says.

I merely shrug.

And she kisses me again.

Those seven years were worth it for moments like this.

I would wait another hundred years.