#dark verse

lyra kane: how do you do it...? how do you forget...? tristan caine: you don't.

Tempest blabbered some nonsense in baby talk and Dante blew her kisses before coming back to the line, the grin in his voice evident. “That was my polite way of telling you she won’t let Tristan come on his own this time. I’ll also bring”—Dante spoke in a baby voice, clearly to his daughter, and Zephyr melted—“my adorable little princess. I have separation anxiety these days. That means my baby mama”—Dante yelled in the distance, clearly to Amara—“my wife will also be coming with us.” “You’re whipped,” Alpha huffed a laugh. “Happily too,” Dante agreed, no shame in his voice whatsoever. “So two couples, two kids, and five security guys. We’ll land Friday afternoon.” “I’ll arrange the pickup,” Alpha confirmed. “Okay. Give my love to Zephyr.” And now he was blowing raspberries. Alpha looked at her. “I’ll give her your greeting.” “I said, my love.” “Fuck off.” Her husband hung up with Dante chuckling.

Little by little, she’d shifted things in his life, minuscule bit by minuscule bit, in a way he’d not even been aware of it happening until it had stopped. And now she was a part of his lifeblood, vital to his functioning.

“You’re in my blood, beating in my fucking heart. The only way you go is when the heart stops.”