Epilogue
Pride fillsmy chest as I look at my Little Nymph approaching my front door. She still looks intimidated by the pretentious building, but there’s a rigidness to her shoulders, and her head’s held high.
Between her newly colored pastel green hair and her knee-length floral dress, she looks like she sprouted from the forest.
She’s everything this world hates and everything I want.
I’d have been happy to never come back here, but there was a wild glint in her eyes when she suggested it’s the perfect spot to meet my mother.
Misty looks back at me, holding her hand out. “You ready?”
“Always.” I reach for it, entwining our fingers, and tug her chest into mine.
She stumbles into me, and I steady her with an arm, skin meeting skin when I wrap it around her lower back.
I run my thumb along her scar, tracing its ridges back and forth, and marvel at the way she erupts with goose bumps. She feels delicate in my arms, but she’s strong. Stronger than I’ll ever be, and I’m so fucking in love with her.
I kiss her on her temple and graze the shell of her ear with my lips. “I love you.”
She pulls back, smiling wide. “I love you too.” Her smile turns into a wicked smirk that makes me want to drag her back home to worship her. “Now, let’s go harass your mother.”
My body goes rigid, but if Misty notices, she doesn’t say anything, instead moving toward the door. My mother better be on her best fucking behavior.
The house has always been cold, but seeing it through Misty’s eyes has me hating it. I’d let my mother renovate it prior to me moving in. It’s all muted tones and cold stone. It lacks the life and warmth that our apartment has.
My Little Nymph’s eyes are wide as she takes the room in. There are two grand staircases flanking the entrance, leading up to the second floor, framing a ginormous chandelier that’s made to look like it has a thousand candles on it.
She points up at it. “I kinda like that.”
“You have excellent taste. That’s a Mernier piece.” My mother’s tone grates on my ears. It still holds an edge of haughtiness I’m not sure will ever disappear, but she’ll have to learn to fake it when speaking with my wife.
“It’s a little gaudy, but I like over-the-top things.” Misty shrugs as if she didn’t just directly insult my mother, and her confidence has my cock growing hard.
A muscle ticks in my mother’s cheek as she weighs the situation. She looks at where my fingers are firmly curled around Misty’s hip, then back to me.
I raise a brow, letting her know that I won’t come to her defense. That I will never pick her over my wife.
She lets out a slow breath and plasters on a fake smile. “Dear, I think I owe you an apology.”
Misty cocks her head to the side, making her appear at complete ease, but she leans into me for support. “Do you? What for?”
My mother stiffens, not expecting to be questioned. She glances at me again, then back. “I was terribly rude to you.”
“Oh yes, I remember. What was it? You said that I was chasing at Damon’s feet, but not to misunderstand. He could never love me, and I didn’t belong with him. Am I remembering that correctly?”
The blood drains from my mother’s face. “You must forgive me. I was under the weather that day. Of course you are the perfect wife to my Damon.”
Misty looks her up and down before tucking herself into my side. “Of course. You’re Damon’s family, which makes us family, right?”
“Right.” I kiss the top of her head, resting my chin there. “Didn’t you say you had somewhere you needed to be, Mother?”
Sharp eyes meet mine, but she bows her head slightly. “Yes, afternoon tea. I will see you both later.”
Unlikely. She may have apologized, but I have no plans on letting her be anywhere near my Little Nymph.
When the door closes, Misty collapses back into me, a sigh escaping her lips. “She’s exhausting.”
I spin her in my arms and capture her mouth with mine. “I know the perfect way to help you relax.” I look around. “But not here.”
“Where are you taking me?” I ask Damon as he leads me down ancient marble stairs. When he said we were visiting the Everette hotel, this was not what I expected. I run my finger along the cold stone wall, marveling at the intricate details carved in. My ankle rolls on the uneven step, and I stumble forward with a sharp cry, and Damon catches me easily.
“Are you okay?” He immediately scoops me into his arms, making the rest of the descent.
I rotate my ankle, and there’s no lingering pain. “Yeah, I’m fine.” When he doesn’t put me down, I add, “I’ve had worse.”
If I expected that to help the situation, I was extremely wrong. Damon’s brows lower, pinching together in the middle and making a thin line between them. “Not funny.”
“Oh, come on. It’s a little funny.” I reach up and run my thumb over the line until it smooths out.
Whatever I was going to say next is cut off when my gaze adjusts to the low light and focuses on the room around us. I twist to look at Damon and lower my voice to a whisper. “This is the Vaults?”
“I thought you’d be curious.”
“I mean, I’m insanely curious.” Who wouldn’t be. My husband is supposedly the head of some super top secret, billionaire-only cult thing, and there are no women allowed.
As he moves through the space, his footsteps echo off the walls of cold marble. The room seems to stretch on forever, disappearing into the shadows and making it impossible to gauge how big it is. Every surface is impeccably clean, without even a speck of dust or a hint of musty air. It’s clear that despite its age, this place has been meticulously maintained. There’s a design laid into the floor that looks like a stonework runner that leads all the way up to a raised platform with giant thrones.
“So this is where you meet and stuff?” I ask, eyes still dancing from one thing to another.
His low chuckle rumbles against my side. “And stuff. You’re not impressed by this at all, are you?”
“I mean…it’s a bunch of guys wearing masks doing ceremonies and stuff. I’m pretty sure you don’t allow women because they’d call it lame.” My words break off in a laugh as his fingers tickle my sides.
“You’re going to pay for that.” He sets me on the throne and moves to the side so I can get a better look at the room.
There’s an underlying thrum of power that courses through me just sitting here that undermines my last comment. The weight of centuries lives here, and it’s so palpable I can almost touch it. What does it feel like to sit here when it’s full of men in silver masks, all bowing to him?
I look at Damon, who’s watching me, and I’m suddenly intimidated by the whole thing. He’s always been this rich, influential guy, but this is so much more. And who am I?
“Don’t do that.” Damon cuts through my rambling thoughts, crouching down to place a kiss on my temple.
“Do what?”
“Overthink this.”
I huff out a laugh. “How am I not supposed to overthink this? You command a freaking secret society, and I make dresses and plan press conferences. We are not the same.”
Damon moves around me, dropping between my thighs.
“I may be their Lord, but you are my queen.” He bows and places a kiss along the exposed skin just below my skirt. “Whatever power I have is yours to wield. Ask for anything, and I will give it to you.”
An inkling flies in and out of my mind, and I bite my cheek, too nervous to say it.
“Out with it,” he murmurs, his tongue hot on my thigh.
My heart beats like a drum, and I swallow before saying, “I’ve always wanted you to beg on your knees.”
He lets out a low, satisfied growl and nips my leg before looking up through his lashes. “I’ll happily beg for you.” His hands encircle the tops of my thighs. “Please, Misty.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, and my stomach grows taut. “Please what?”
“Please let me taste you.” He runs his tongue along my skin below my skirt, leaving no room for confusion.
“What, here?” I squeak, trying to get up, but he holds me in place.
“I can think of no better place to bow to you than on your throne,” he says as he slips my underwear down, leaving me bare.
Heat floods my core at his words, and my skin flushes, my apprehension burning away. I give it one last protest. “What if someone comes in?”
“Then they’ll get to watch me worship you like the queen you are.” With that, he pushes my skirt up until it bunches around my hips and spreads my thighs wide.
I squirm, embarrassed to be exposed like this, but his fingers tighten.
“Don’t. Let me look at you.” His thumb brushes along my seam, and my eyes roll back.
“So fucking wet already.” He hums in the back of his throat and repeats the motion, and this time, my hips curl to deepen his touch. All modesty is lost when he lifts my legs, tilting me back for better access, and runs his tongue from back to front, licking his lips when he meets my gaze.
“You taste fucking delicious.” His mouth is back on me, stroking, sucking, biting until I’m a writhing mess in his arms.
“Damon,” I cry, fingers digging into his hair as I try to hold on to my sanity.
“I’ve got you.” He slips one finger in and then another, hooking them inside of me to hit the perfect spot.
My teeth clench as he orchestrates the pleasure in my body to build over and over itself until I’m lost to the noise of my orgasm breaking me apart.
Panting, I grip one hand around the chair arm, and the other stays in his hair as he gently traces my clit with his tongue. I twist against his touch. “Sensitive.”
He just smiles and sucks it between his lips, drawing a gasp from mine.
There’s an aching hollowness that only he can fill growing inside me. I grip his hair, pulling him back so his dark gaze meets mine. “Damon, I need you to fuck me.”
That earns me a smile as he lifts from his knees. “Anything you want.”
A thrill rolls through me at the promise in his eyes. “I think I could get used to this you-obeying-me thing.”
“Is that right?” Damon says, then flips me so I’m facing the back of the throne, my knees firmly on the seat.
His fingers trail up the back of my thighs, flipping my skirt up, and he groans low in his throat.
“Fuck,” he hisses right before his teeth sink into the soft flesh of my ass.
I cry out, but he just chuckles and licks the sore spot until pleasure replaces the pain.
The hard head of his cock circles my entrance, and my mouth falls open as he slowly fills me, drawing out each second until he’s buried deep within me.
There is a burning, tingling sensation as my body adjusts to his with each thrust, until I’m pushing back into him, encouraging him to move faster.
He groans, his fingers tracing where he’s entering me. “I wish you could see how well your pussy takes me.”
“Damon.” I breathe his name, struggling to speak as his rhythm turns punishing.
His fingers wrap around my throat, applying gentle pressure as his chest rests on my back, guiding me to lean into him.
“You feel so fucking good I can’t be gentle with you.”
“Fuck me, Damon.”
He chuckles low against my neck and obeys, fucking me harder as his grip tightens around my neck until my head grows fuzzy.
“That’s it. Take me just like that.” He pounds into me as his hand reaches around, pressing down on my clit, instantly pushing me over the edge of my orgasm.
He doesn’t stop as it crashes through me, until his own hot cum fills me.
Damon pants against my neck, lips grazing the sensitive skin, and says, “I don’t fucking deserve you, but I’m going to make you happy that you love me every day for the rest of your life.”