Page 228 of The Darkest Chase

One by one, they illuminate the table, and what’s resting in the middle.

“Micah, what is all of—”

When she sees it, she stops cold.

Talia goes completely still, staring down at the dark-grey velvet box in the center of the table, painted in flicking shadows by golden candlelight. I can’t quite read the stunned expression on her face.

My heart starts pounding as she brings her hands to her mouth.

“Micah?” Her voice sounds muffled behind her fingers.

Damn.

Even though my nerves are about to snap like twigs, I smile.

“Thought we’d have a romantic dinner under the stars. We can still eat, even if you say no.”

“I—you—” Her eyes fly from the box, to me, and back to the box again. “Are… are you really asking me to…?”

“I am. And I should do this right, or Gerald will skin me alive.” Her shocked smile gives me courage. I dip down to retrieve the little box and sink down on one knee in front of her—my beautiful girl, my perfect light, my pink doe.

Yeah, I’m feeling cheesy as hell.

No, I don’t give a damn as I pop the box open for her.

It’s a delicate band in rose gold, set with a diamond twined in golden branches.

When I saw it in the store, I knew it was perfect, especially when she spends her life shaping wood into beautiful things.

Her eyes widen as she stares at the ring.

I clear my throat and get on with it. “Talia Grey, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“…ohGodwhere’smyinhaler…”

“Shit. Are you okay, I—”

“Yes!” Breathless and bursting into laughter, Talia flings herself at me, her bag falling away and thudding to the ground as she tumbles on her knees and throws herself into my arms.

I realize then she’s not having an asthma attack.

She’s just that excited.

“Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I’ll marry you!”

“Jesus Christ, don’t scare me like that.” I’m grinning from ear to ear, though, and I hug her tight, clutching the ring against her back. “You just made me a very happy man, Miss Grey.”

“Talia,” she insists playfully before bumping her nose to mine. Her eyes glisten. “And it won’t be ‘Miss Grey’ for much longer, will it?”

“Mrs. Ainsley,” I say.

Heavy words.

She goes crimson, blushing so prettily.

“Soon,” she whispers. “But kiss me like it’s already true.”

“Gladly,” I growl, claiming her mouth.

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