Epilogue
LILITH
ONE MONTH LATER
It took some getting used to, living with so many men. I’d lived alone for so long that it took me a while not to jump every time someone walked into the kitchen while I was grabbing a pouch of blood.
When they sorted club business, Evelynn and I would often sit on the rooftop with a glass (or two) of blood, laughing and complaining about Lucian and Silas.
Viktor was no closer to finding out why—or how—Evelynn had been able to change, or how she was able to defeat Anathema. I think he was close to just documenting it himself as a prophecy; the first of its kind. Evelynn would throw that back at Lucian any chance she got.
Right now, I was getting ready for a party, one Clutch had announced he was hosting. A ‘we survived, not turned to dust’ party. Dress code: sexy. Lucian had refused his request multiple times until eventually he caved. Though honestly, I think it was more than Evelynn made him cave.
Sitting at the dressing table in our bedroom, Evelynn lines my eyes with thick liquid liner; she says it makes my gaze almost feline.
The rest of my makeup is natural, my hair down in loose waves.
I add mascara, not needing a mirror, something I learned quickly when you can’t use them.
I stand and turn to Evelynn, who’s in a sheer black dress.
It’s see-through, caressing her curves; the only underwear she has is a blood-red thong.
Her dark hair falls on either side of her face, cleverly covering her breasts.
I reminded her that Lucian might not handle the entire club seeing her bare breasts.
She agreed, figuring this would be enough to make him feral; just not slaughter-his-brothers feral.
I’d chosen a long black dress. The bodice was a black lace corset, the skirt plain with splits up both sides to the base of my hips. It was the first dress I’d worn in years. I shifted, feeling slightly uncomfortable.
“Stop fidgeting, you look incredible. Now come on. I’ve been dying to see Lucian’s face when he sees me in this dress.” She grins wickedly.
“Just try and last more than five minutes before he drags you away to fuck you,” I sigh.
“I shall do my best, although I think it may be Silas doing that tonight when he sees you in that dress.”
“No, it will be when he realises I’m not wearing any underwear.” I wink.
She laughs, holding up her hand for a high five. Having Evelynn around is nice. I was never really close to my own sister, but we had our moments.
As we make our way down the stone halls to the bar, music vibrates and echoes.
I spot them all at the bar, drinking. A few fang bangers have already arrived, provocatively throwing themselves over the brothers.
Silas and Lucian both wear a look that said, ‘Don’t even fucking try it, which makes my lips twitch, fighting a smile.
My eyes are fixed on Silas as we near; sensing me, his onyx gaze collides with mine, then lazily trails over my body as I walk.
I might have added a little extra sway to my hips to tempt him.
By the time his gaze returns to mine, my lips part.
His gaze is feral, animalistic hunger simmering in it.
Maybe Evelynn was right. Maybe we wouldn’t last five minutes, and not because he liked what I was wearing.
No. If he kept looking at me like that, it would be me.
I’d let him take me right there, for all to see.
“God damn,” Clutch exclaims, snapping me out of my daze.
I look at him and grin. None of the brothers had worn anything different from their usual attire, except Clutch, who was in jeans, a fitted white shirt unbuttoned down his chest, revealing his muscled body, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with boots and a Stetson.
“Howdy!” Clutch hoots, looking over Evelynn and me.
“Are you dressed as a cowboy, Clutch?” I smirk.
His grin deepens, twiddling his toothpick. He lifts his Stetson slightly. “Sure am, ma’am.” He winks.
I can’t help the giggle that escapes me, and Evelynn, too. He looks every bit the cowboy.
“Clutch, step aside from my woman,” Lucian growls in warning.
Clutch holds his hands up in surrender. “Not my fault the cowboy attire clearly draws in the ladies.”
He wasn’t wrong. At least three of the fang bangers were eyeing him up appreciatively.
“Move,” Silas warns, low in his throat, as he approaches. Clutch turns, opening his arms wide to the women.
“Ladies!” he calls. My attention moves to Silas, his dark eyes consuming me like midnight.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t break eye contact; his hand threads through my hair, grabbing in a tight fist, yanking my head back before possessively claiming my mouth.
A low growl rumbles from his chest as my nails scrape along his body, clenching his black t-shirt in my fists.
The noise around us is silenced, as if there is only us. He breaks the kiss.
“I could take you right here, right fucking now,” he rasps across my mouth.
“I’m not wearing any underwear,” I taunt.
His eyes darken further, impossibly so. He releases his hold on my hair and reaches for my hand, leading me back to our room.
“I thought you were going to fuck me right there,” I tease.
“I love my brothers. It would be a shame to kill them,” he murmurs.
Just as we pass the entrance, a thunderous crash splits the air.
We freeze. Silas and I exchange a look, something tense, instinctive. Fear prickles along my skin.
“Wait here,” he orders. I roll my eyes and follow anyway. Of course I do. The rest of the club spills out behind us.
Outside, a white van tears down the road, tyres screeching, dust erupting in its wake.
Gone in seconds. “Whoops.” The word draws my attention down.
Cain. He’s sprawled across the ground in the middle of a pile of fallen bikes, like he’s been tossed there.
His face is a mess, with a split lip, bruises already blooming dark across his skin.
Blood soaks through his white t-shirt. And he’s laughing, actually laughing.
A rough, unhinged sound that doesn’t match the state he’s in.
He groans, rolling onto his side before shoving himself to his feet, sending bikes clattering out of his way like they weigh nothing. He sways slightly, arms spreading wide like he’s welcoming an audience. “Let’s party!” he slurs.
I glance at Evelynn. She looks just as uneasy as I feel. “Who the fuck was that?” Lucian growls, stepping forward.
Cain grins, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Just some guys who don’t like losing at poker.
” He pauses. “Now…” He exhales, like he’s bored with the whole thing already.
“I need a drink.” He steps over the wreckage like it’s nothing, patting Lucian on the chest as he passes.
“I’ll get that cleaned up, don’t you worry, Prez. ”
Then he disappears inside. Silence lingers in his wake. Heavy. Wrong. “He’s drawing too much attention,” Silas mutters low enough for only us to hear. “Third time this week he’s come back like this.”
Lucian’s jaw tightens. “And the run,” Silas adds. “It’s like he wants to get himself killed.”
I frown, watching the door through which Cain vanished. He’s a vampire. No one does this to him unless he lets them. Lucian exhales slowly, something dark settling into his expression. “Call court,” he says. “Tomorrow.” A pause. His voice drops colder. “It’s time he answers for it.”
Inside, something crashes. Laughter follows. And for the first time since all of this began, I realise, this isn’t just Cain spiralling. He’s broken, and has been since Velmora. He’s just stopped pretending he isn’t.
The End