Page 134 of Zorro

Her rhythm grew ruthless. Sensual. Wild. One hand worked in tandem, her mouth slick and tight and perfect, tongue swirling, lips sealed, cheeks hollowing with each pull. His thighs trembled beneath her palms.

She gave him everything.

Every ounce of devotion she couldn’t say aloud.

Every ounce of grief, guilt, need, want.

When he cried out, when his back bowed off the mattress and he gasped her name like it was salvation and surrender all at once, she didn’t stop. She held him until he had nothing left to give, until he collapsed beneath her hands, sweat-slick and stunned, his chest heaving like he’d run a marathon.

She kissed the tip of him softly, gently.

Then rested her cheek against his thigh, her fingers still curled around his hip and just breathed with him.

Zorro reached down, hand trembling as it cupped her jaw, lifting her face until she looked up at him.

His voice was shattered. “You touch me like that for the rest of our lives, and I’m going to die a happy man.”

She smiled.

“I’m going to love you until it hurts so good, right into this happily ever after. You know that is a given, my Mateo,” she said simply.

Then she crawled up his body, slow and deliberate, and settled against his chest.

This time, when he wrapped his arms around her, he found that love was worth waiting for, love was worth aching for, and love was worth dying for. But she’d pulled him from the dark and gave him light. Everly. His querida. The one and only, Doc Sunshine.

Epilogue

Bear's Family Residence, Kadoka, Oglala Lakota County Sacred Land, South Dakota - Two Months Later

He crested the hill just after sunset.

The land opened up like memory, rolling plains bathed in gold, soft shadows stretching across ancient soil. The house stood where the earth dipped gently toward a line of cottonwoods, the silhouette quiet, strong, and timeless against a sky streaked with deepening blue.

Bear pulled the truck to a slow stop. Killed the engine. For a long moment, he just sat there, letting the silence settle around him like sage smoke.

It was a timber-frame house, earth-toned and wide-shouldered, set back from the main road on land they’d bought not far from Pine Ridge. He and Ray had walked this property before it was ever built. Had stood at the edge of the slope and watched the sunrise, Ray saying softly, “This land remembers.”

They’d poured every dream into it.

The wraparound porch hugged the whole structure, generous and wide, built for gathering. For breathing. For watching stars. A quilt hung folded over the railing, already touched by wind.

Smoke drifted from the chimney, faint and familiar.

Flint stirred in the backseat, whined once.

Bear opened the door and stepped out into the stillness. The earth crunched beneath his boots. The scent of cedarwood and sweetgrass rose in the air.

Horses grazed just beyond the corral. Heads lifted briefly to acknowledge his return before dipping again into the grass. Their manes caught the last light, wild and peaceful.

The sweat lodge stood behind the house, half hidden by a small stand of juniper. The prayer ties on the nearby fence fluttered softly in the breeze. Beyond that, the medicine wheel garden, stones arranged with quiet precision, sage and lavender lining the edges. A space for balance. For prayer. For reckoning.

Bear walked up the steps slowly, running his hand over the railing he’d sanded himself. The door opened before he could reach it.

His mother stood there, her eyes already glassy, her arms opening without hesitation.

“WíyakA t?a?ka,” she whispered, calling him by the childhood name Grandfather Ray had given him. Feather of strength. “You came. I wanted to travel to San Diego, be there, but?—”

“I understand, Mom,” he said gruffly, hugging her tight. “I had support. You don’t have to worry about me.”

---