Epilogue
Will I ever get over the urge to come in my pants when my omega does this?
Probably not.
Which is why she does it so often.
Our gorgeous, deadly viper smirks around the edge of her Kindle, flashing jade eyes down to where I’m lying in her lap. Her pointed nails scratch my scalp with more insistence, and I hiss, baring my teeth in a snarl. She raises an eyebrow.
“Tapping out on me already, venom?”
It’s one of her favorite taunts—one she’s repeated many times since the first night she got on her knees for me. And I always have the same answer.
“Never.”
I know she feels the truth layered into the word. The vow.
She’ll never lose me. And I won’t ever give up on us.
A chilly ocean breeze winds through the backyard, blowing shriveled, crunchy leaves under our bench. Cillian had this carved seating area installed last month, just as Briar’s roses passed their peak and autumn colors swept across our estate.
This addition to the garden was our mate’s idea. After we recovered from her heat, she had a chance to process everything Forsyth told her—and share what really happened to Cillian’s parents.
It took about a month for our pack leader to work through his feelings. We could all sense his turmoil in the bond, though, and did our best to help him through the guilt and regret that came with discovering he’d missed the truth for so long.
Briar was there for him in every conceivable way. Proving for the hundredth time that she’s the perfect combination of grit and grace—a pillar of strength and a soft place to land.
When she proposed memorials for Caine and his lost love, Cillian ran with the idea. Now, there’s a lovely reading bench for Briar to enjoy, flanked by twin statues. They’re chess pieces—a king and his queen.
Briar must like the symbolism as much as I do, because she often asks to read out here in the afternoons, despite the cold creeping into the air. Cillian’s taken care of that, naturally, furnishing her wardrobe with enough black cashmere to swaddle the entire Omega Suite, if she wanted to.
My gorgeous girl’s chest hums with her kittenish omega purr, her touch smoothing back into the comforting, sensual caresses I love nearly as much as her claws.
My eyelids fall closed, and her mouth quirks again.
But she keeps her eyes steady on her Kindle this time, reminding me that I also have a book clutched in my hands.
It’s a collection of Korean recipes, each with a short memoir-style story of the family who created it attached.
Ever since Briar’s DNA results came back with a Korean as her highest percentage, I’ve thrown myself into researching the culture and customs, along with looking for any distant relatives she might have.
So far, unraveling her true origins has been quite a project. Wherever our miraculous mate came from, Dr. Brynn covered his tracks very thoroughly. But the DNA samples don’t lie. Briar was never truly his daughter, so her real parents must have been donors of some sort.
I’m proud of the way Briar embraced that information.
She could have let it beat her down. Instead, she’s gotten excited to explore the different facets of her heritage.
She’s even chatted with some distant cousins the DNA program connected her to.
They live outside Seoul and have already gotten her hooked on a movie called KPop Demon Hunters that Dane secretly loves.
I’m determined to figure out how to make some of the more traditional dishes in this book. That way, she can have them as often as she likes and hopefully keep learning about herself as she goes.
We’ve all been doing that, lately. And somehow, knowing the truth about the horrors that took place during my childhood has helped me let go of a lot of things. My mother and her departure included.
I may never find out if she was threatened or simply terrified—but at least now I believe there was more to the story than meets the eye.
It still hurts, some days, but I’ve made peace with it. Knowing I can always come to Briar and find solace in her lap has been a huge part of that.
It’s almost time, Cillian says through the bond, speaking only to Dane and me.
We’ve done our best to try to keep that sort of thing to a minimum. Our omega can always sense when we’re communicating through the tether she created for us, even when she can’t hear what we’re saying…
Planning secret gifts for someone as sharp as Briar is a whole ordeal, but Cillian insisted on one last surprise. A big one.
Our mate is definitely suspicious, though. She casually taps her eReader, pretending to turn a page. “Cillian alright?”
I close the interior curtain to my half of our bond before I answer, hoping she’ll buy my excuse. “Just planning another night for the two of you in the ballroom.”
Briar pouts dryly. Because my brilliant baby knows I’m full of shit. “Mm-hmm.”
I shrug. “I know I’m a better dancer, but it looks like you’ll have to make do with the old man tonight. Sorry, viper.”
Cillian must be listening to her thoughts, because he suddenly interjects. You are not a better dancer than me.
Briar and I smirk at each other. She whispers out loud, “Yeah, you are. But we won’t tell him.”
“I heard that,” Cillian’s voice snaps. He rounds the nearest hedge, sporting a half-smile and feral eyes. He holds his hand out for his wife.
“Come on, Mrs. Blackwood. Before we lock you up and keep you all to ourselves.”
“Again?” She smirks to me, quirking a black brow.
My brother laughs, and I join in, palming her ass as we guide her out of the thorny maze of roses.
Oh, baby, I think. You know you only have to ask.
Will I ever stop blushing like this?
As Briar and the rest of my pack emerge from the garden, walking toward the Rolls-Royce at my back, our gazes lock. Her smile brightens as she winks, sending me a mental image. Of me, chasing her through our labyrinth. Which is just about the only use for my mask these days.
Briar slowly eased me out of my comfort zone.
Starting with late night drives, movies in dark theaters.
Last week, she finally asked if I would take her to a formal restaurant.
She never requested I go without my face covering, but I felt her hope in our bond. And it was more than enough motivation.
The way she sneered at any other woman who looked at me—in horror or with appreciation—didn’t hurt.
The memory warms my cheeks and makes my knot throb. Beside me, Louis finishes packing our picnic into the trunk and chortles at my rising scent.
“Oh you’re one to talk,” I grumble, nodding at his neck. It has the most savage bond mark I’ve ever seen branded into the side.
And that’s saying something, considering where I left mine…
Turns out, stuffed-shirt, fork-on-the-left Coggins can be just as beastly as the rest of us. At least, when it comes to his omega.
The dour man has his usual scowl in place as he makes his way to the driver’s seat. Waving Louis inside with a meaningful look before scowling in the cliffs’ general direction. As if he disapproves of the cold wind.
Or his mate being out in it, at least.
Our attendant laughs, rolling his eyes. “Maybe he’ll calm down after our trip.”
Cillian insisted on paying for their upcoming honeymoon, where they’ll spend Christmas in France with Louis and Fiona’s family. Briar overhears mention of the gift she thought up for the recently bonded couple and her new friend, grinning wider.
“Don’t count on it,” she chips, sliding into my side. Surrounding me with black cherry perfume that teases me every bit as much as her words. “Some grumps never change.”
I send her a beat of indignation. She replies with her view of me standing here, her happiness glowing in my chest… and a mighty frown on my face.
So maybe she has a point.
Rhys snickers as he joins us, slanting a look that roughly translates to um, yeah.
I punch his arm and shove him toward the open car door. Briar giggles, funneling pure adoration through our bond as she rises onto the toes of her heeled knee-high boots and plants a kiss over my scarred cheek. Deep down, where only I can hear, she whispers, I hope you never stop blushing, big man.
I’m still grinning like an idiot when she slides into the Rolls after Rhys. Cillian chuckles again, finally moving to join us. He does that more often, I’ve noticed. Stepping back, slowing down. Watching all of us together.
There’s a protective edge to his habit, but even more pride. Awe that Briar turned us into a true family—and the unshakable belief that she’s the only omega in the world who could have accomplished this.
He’s right, of course. There’s no one like Briar.
Except maybe Violet.
Cillian hears my errant thought, lifting his chin to meet my gaze. Understanding snaps between us as he briefly tunes into Rhys and Briar. Finding them engaged in one of their bantered debates.
We prefer not to trouble our mate with too many updates on our search for her sister. She has terrible survivor’s guilt—and the fact that we may never find the missing woman she mourns in her dreams haunts all of us.
Cillian and I won’t give up, though. We’ve combed every record we’ve gotten our hands on, and we have no intention of stopping. Gideon has pitched in, too, using his special government clearance and Finn’s international contacts to gain access to classified information.
My best friend quickly runs through everything he’s learned today—all the associates he checked in with and what they said.
I do the same, running through the list of agencies that still haven’t gotten back to me.
Mostly facilities abroad, where the Blackwood name doesn’t light a fire under people’s asses.
Gideon will take care of them, Cillian thinks, then feels my surprise at the easy trust that accompanies his statement. He huffs, “I know, I know. But the kid is growing on me. He’s almost as determined to find Briar’s sister as we are.”