Steady.
Alive.
Real.
Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly, a tiny catch in her throat that she tried to suppress but couldn't quite control. The past hours had been the most perfect of her entire existence across both lifetimes, and the reality of it was almost overwhelming and now they were heading back to face consequences together as husband and wife.
She lifted his hand again, slower this time, bringing it closer to her face with reverent care. Her gaze flickered up to meet his, and she saw him watching her with that intensity that always made her feel simultaneously exposed and cherished. Something deeper lingered in his dark eyes now, not just the relief of having survived the shooting and recovered consciousness, but a fragile, consuming need that matched her own.
The need to touch and be touched. To confirm and reconfirm that this was real, that they were both here, that the vows they had spoken in that chapel were legally and spiritually binding.
