Yes, she says, and it's the most wonderful word in the world. He laughs, pulling her into a hug and not letting her go. His mate. Then they're in his- their- room, and he's kissing slowly up her neck, teeth grazing her skin. I love you, he murmurs. I love you too, she says. His hands grip her hips, and she now has her hands on either side of his face, bringing him closer. She leans forward to kiss him...
He sits up, breathing hard, realizes he's crying. The spot next to him is empty. It shouldn't be. She should be here in his arms, fast asleep, breathing deep and slowly. She should be here, curled up next to him with her head resting on his shoulder. She should be here, her breath warm against his collar bone, her hair fanned out, her heart beat matching his. She should be here with him. But she's not.
All he has is ghosts.
He tugs at his hair, laying back down unable to close his eyes and sleep. He should have acted when he had her. Done the very things he'd been doing in the dream. Maybe if he had done so, she wouldn't have fought so recklessly. Maybe her sleeping form would be next to him right now. If he had one wish, that would be it.
But there's no use wondering what could have happened. This wasn't a fairy tale. He brushed the tears off his face, but it was useless. New ones flooded in to replace them. She was gone.
A small whisper in his ear reminds him of her last audible words. Don't worry. There's still Paradise. I'll be waiting for you, 'kay? He didn't want to wait for Paradise. Not that he thought he'd get there anyways, he'd done too much wrong.
He rolled over again, staring into the darkness, picturing her face that was already beginning to fade.
Darling, I wish you were here.