The ocean breeze whispered against the open balcony doors, carrying the scent of salt and sunlight into the honeymoon suite. White sheets tangled around bare legs, the evidence of a night that was nothing short of unforgettable. Shane stirred first, her strong arms pulling May closer as the soft glow of dawn touched her skin.
May groaned softly, her lashes fluttering open, only to find Shane already looking at her with that lazy, love-struck smirk.
"Good morning, Mrs. Kingston," Shane murmured, her voice deep and deliciously hoarse.
May flushed immediately, hiding her face in Shane's chest. "Stop calling me that," she mumbled, her voice muffled.
Shane chuckled. "Why? You married me. You wore the dress. You moaned my name loud enough last night to make the ocean jealous."
"Shane!" May smacked her arm, burying deeper into the sheets.
Shane sat up against the headboard, her body bare, bruised with May's love—bite marks on her neck, scratches down her back. Her fingers brushed the silver wedding band on her finger, turning it slowly. May peeked up at her, then did the same, lifting her hand and smiling.
"It's real, huh?" May whispered.
Shane looked at her. "It's forever."
They kissed slowly, without rush, lips lingering like the promise they made just hours ago under candlelight and stars. Their wedding was small—hidden from the public eye, from the threats, from the enemies that tried to break them. It was just theirs.
Later, they walked down to the beach. May in a flowy white dress that barely kissed her thighs, Shane in her classic tomboy suit rolled at the sleeves and barefoot, hand in hand.
That evening, Shane surprised May by taking her to a hidden bar tucked behind a quiet street—a place with neon lights, good whiskey, and loud laughter. It was everything May loved: chaotic, colorful, and alive.
"I used to come here whenever I needed to feel something," Shane said, handing her a glass.
May grinned. "Now you've got me. You feel everything."
They laughed, danced, kissed in the corner booth like teenagers. But the night didn't stay quiet for long.
A group of women entered the bar—gorgeous, glittering, too interested in Shane.
One of them, bold in red, walked straight up and leaned into Shane's ear. "If you're ever bored, I'd love a night with you. You look like you could ruin someone."
Shane stiffened, trying to step back. But May saw.
And May, in heels and attitude, marched through the crowd, grabbed Shane by the collar of her suit jacket, pulled her in, and kissed her so hard the whole bar went silent. Lips on lips. Tongue. Passion. Claiming.
Then she broke the kiss just enough to lift her left hand—flashing the wedding ring.
"She's mine. My honey. My wife," May said with a wicked smile, her voice sweet as sin. "Try her again, and I'll show you how I fight."
The girls backed off, flustered and whispering. Shane looked at May like she was the moon and war in one body.
"You just marked your territory in front of half the city," Shane whispered.
May smirked. "Damn right I did."
They left early, giggling, Shane slightly drunk and May dragging her through the streets, whispering, "You're lucky I like you even when you flirt without realizing it."
That night back at the hotel, Shane pinned May to the bed. "One more time before the honeymoon ends?"
May wrapped her legs around Shane's waist, eyes soft. "Only if you kiss me like it's the first time."
And Shane did.
Over and over, until the stars disappeared and the sun rose on the beginning of their forever.