Page 170 of Sweet Venom

The wedding was gothic, dark, and elegant. Not a fairy tale but something better. A love that didn’t follow anyone else’s rules. A love that felt like it had lived a thousand lifetimes before finding its way to this one. A love that was born in Azariel’s scars.

And as the day faded into evening and the last of my readers trickled out, I stood in the quiet bookstore, feeling more content than I ever imagined I could. This was my life now. A dream made real.

Azariel’s hand tightened around mine as we made our way through the bookstore, heading toward the door. “Ready to go home?” he asked, his voice low but tender.

Home.

Finally.

I nodded, the smile never leaving my face. “Let’s go home,” I said, my voice soft.

As we walked out of the bookstore, the warm summer breeze brushed against my skin, and I found myself stealing a glance at him. I gently traced his jaw with my finger, memorizing the lines of his face. I did that a lot. There was so much in him—strength, intensity, wildness, madness and something deeper, something tender that he reserved only for me. His gray eyes met mine, softening, as if he could feel the depth of my love without me having to say a word.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice a soft, loving murmur, “my sweet venom.”

His lips curved into a wide, genuine smile, a smile that always made my heart skip a beat. A smile that was stolen from him for long years. A smile that my love returned to him.

Without hesitation, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on my nose, then to my lips— quick, warm, and sweet. His breath brushed against my skin, sending goosebumps across my arms.

The kiss was simple, but it spoke volumes.

It was a silent promise and fierce reassurance.

Azariel pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. His smile still lingered, and with a tenderness that matched the look in his eyes, he whispered back, “Not more than I love you, my Poetry.”

I was home.

Right here. In his arms. With him.

And I would be, for as long as we both lived.

And as we walked away from Reading on Cloud 9 behind, hand in hand, I didn’t look back. Our story was far from over.

The kind of love we shared…

It didn’t end. It couldn’t.

It transcended time and space.

It always will… in this life and the next.

Epilogue Two

POE

“Even my demons fell in love with her.” — A

Years had passed, but our blue garden remained as enchanting as ever. The gothic rose garden had only grown more beautiful with time, the dark, twisting vines of roses now lush with deep cobalt petals, their fragrance intoxicating and comforting in the morning air. Azariel had added more sculptures, meticulously crafted and placed in among the roses, each one a breathtakingly perfect work of art.

I’m biased, I must admit.

The new sculptures are my favorites to look at when I spend my days here in the garden.

I stood beside Azariel, holding his hand as we watched our two-year-old son—our little devil with a heavenly smile—play in the garden. His tiny hands reached out to touch the delicate petals of the roses, and his sweet giggles filled the air, light and carefree. God, I love him— so much it hurts. Our baby boy looked so much like his father. In fact, he was a living, breathing copy of his Azariel—his gray eyes, the mischievous grin thatnever quite left his face, and the way his little frame seemed to move with a purpose, as if already plotting world domination.

He was perfect and ours.

Azariel chuckled softly beside me, his eyes never leaving our son. “He’s a miniature tyrant,” he said, his voice low and filled with love for his boy.

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