EPILOGUE
THEO
The towering pines blur into a wash of green as Victor’s SUV cruises along the winding forest road. I’ve been watching him from the passenger seat for the last hour, studying the tight set of his jaw, the way his fingers drum against the steering wheel when they should be relaxed. Something’s off.
“You want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask, breaking the silence that’s stretched between us for miles.
Victor’s eyes remain fixed on the road. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Bullshit.” I turn down the music. “You’ve been weird all week. Distracted. Checking your phone constantly. And now you’re taking me to some mystery cabin without your usual excitement about getting me naked in new places.”
He almost smiles at that. Almost.
“I’m just tired. The gym’s been busy with the new sponsorship.”
I reach over and place my hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle tense beneath my touch. “We don’t do this anymore, remember? The deflection thing. Not after everything.”
Victor exhales slowly, his broad shoulders dropping slightly. “It’s nothing bad.”
“Then why are you acting like you’re driving me to my execution instead of a romantic weekend?”
The SUV slows as we approach a fork in the road, and Victor takes the right path, deeper into the forest. Sunlight dapples through the canopy of trees, casting golden patterns across his face. I watch him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I’ve just been thinking a lot,” he finally says.
“About?”
“Us. Where we’re going.”
My stomach tightens. Despite everything we’ve overcome, some tiny part of me still expects him to bail when things get too real. “And where exactly is that?”
Victor takes his eyes off the road for a second to glance at me, something vulnerable flickering in his gaze.
“Victor,” I press. “What’s on your mind? You’re starting to freak me out.”
“Nothing, I promise,” Victor says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I just want to forget about everything else this weekend. No gym. No sponsors. No social media. Just you and me.”
I study his face, searching for the truth behind his words. After months of breaking down his walls, I’ve gotten better at reading him, but right now he’s deliberately keeping something locked away.
“Okay,” I say softly, lifting his hand to my lips and kissing his knuckles. His fingers relax slightly in my grip. “Whatever you say, big guy.”
The tension between us eases as we round the final curve in the road, and suddenly the trees part to reveal a stunning A-frame cabin perched on the edge of a small lake. The structure rises majestically among the pines, its huge glass front reflecting the water and approaching sunset.
“Holy shit,” I breathe as Victor parks beside the cabin.
“You like it?” There’s genuine excitement in his voice now, the first I’ve heard all day.
“Like it? It’s fucking incredible.”
Inside is even more impressive—vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, a stone fireplace that dominates one wall, and floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the lake like a living painting. Modern furniture blends with rustic touches in a way that feels both luxurious and unpretentious.
I wander through the space, running my fingers along the smooth countertops, admiring the art on the walls.
When I reach the back of the cabin, I stop, frozen by what I see through the window.
On the deck overlooking the water sits a table draped in white linen, set for two with crystal glasses that catch the light from dozens of candles.
Rose petals are scattered across the wooden boards, and fairy lights twine through the railings, glowing softly against the deepening dusk.
My throat tightens as I turn back to Victor, who’s watching me with an unreadable expression.
“You did all this?” I ask, gesturing toward the romantic setup.
He nods, stepping closer. “Arranged it. Had a service come set everything up before we arrived.”
I’m still taking in the stunning view when the sliding door opens behind us, and a professionally dressed server steps onto the deck.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he says with a polished smile. “Would you prefer to freshen up first, or would you like to begin dinner service?”
My stomach growls audibly in response, forcing a laugh from me. “I’m fucking starving, actually.” I look at Victor apologetically. “Sorry, it’s been hours since lunch.”
“Same here,” Victor says, his earlier tension seeming to melt away. “Let’s eat.”
The server nods and gestures toward the elegantly set table. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
We settle into our seats across from each other as the sun sinks lower behind the pines, casting golden-red light across the lake’s surface. Within moments, the server returns with an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes.
“With Mr. Kaine’s compliments,” he says, expertly popping the cork and pouring the bubbling liquid.
A small plate of delicate canapés appears next—tiny pastry shells filled with caviar and crème fra?che, alongside perfectly seared scallops.
I take a sip of champagne, letting the bubbles dance on my tongue as I look around at this perfect setting. The candles flicker in the gentle evening breeze, casting warm light across Victor’s face.
“This is...” I gesture at everything around us, searching for the right words. “Amazing. Incredible. I have to admit, I didn’t take you for super romantic. This is next-level stuff.”
Victor’s expression softens, and he reaches across the table to take my hand. His thumb traces circles on my palm—a gentle, intimate gesture I’ve come to love.
“I never have been,” he admits quietly. “Not until you.”
The server brings out our main course—perfectly seared steaks with truffle mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus.
Everything is exquisite, but even as I savor each bite, I can feel Victor’s nervous energy from across the table.
His eyes keep darting from me to the lake and back again, and he’s barely touched his food.
“This steak is incredible,” I say, trying to fill the strange silence between us. “Though I think you’ve cut that same piece of meat about ten times without actually eating it.”
He forces a laugh and takes a bite, but his movements are mechanical.
The server returns with dessert—some kind of deconstructed tiramisu that looks like art on the plate. As we pick at the sweets, I try to maintain conversation, asking about his new fighters, telling him about a track I’m producing. But his responses are distracted, short.
My patience finally runs out as I set my spoon down. “Victor, seriously. What’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all day, and now you’re barely here with me. Did something happen with the gym? Is it Dawson again?”
Victor takes a deep breath, setting his napkin on the table. “Not exactly. Fuck, I’m nervous.”
Before I can respond, he pushes his chair back and moves to my side of the table. My heart stutters as he drops to one knee beside me, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small black velvet box.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my hands suddenly trembling. “Victor—”
He opens the box, revealing a stunning ring—yellow gold, chunky and masculine, but with a line of diamonds running through the center that catches the candlelight and throws it back in brilliant sparks.
“Theo Winters,” Victor says, his voice husky and uneven. “I never thought I’d be the kind of man who could love like this, openly and without fear. You changed that. You changed everything.” He takes a shaky breath. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I whisper, then louder, “Yes. A million times fucking yes.”
My vision blurs with tears as Victor slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly, the weight of it both foreign and immediately right. Before I can take another breath, Victor rises and lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing, crushing his mouth to mine.
The kiss is desperate, deep, filled with a promise that makes my chest ache. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on as if I might float away without his anchoring strength.
When we finally break apart, Victor presses his forehead against mine. “Fuck, I love you so goddamn much,” he says, voice rough with emotion.
“I love you too,” I whisper against his lips. “I always have.”
Without putting me down, Victor carries me away from the table, following a path I hadn’t noticed before. It winds through the trees, barely visible in the growing darkness except for the soft glow ahead. When we round the final bend, I gasp.
A small clearing opens before us, completely transformed by hundreds of candles in glass hurricanes, creating a circle of golden light in the middle of the forest. In the center lies a bed of plush blankets and pillows, surrounded by more rose petals and twinkling lights strung in the branches above.
“When did you do all this?” I ask, stunned by the effort, the thought, the sheer romance of it all.
“I had help,” Victor admits, gently lowering me to my feet at the edge of the blankets. His fingers trace my cheekbone, then slide into my hair. “I wanted tonight to be perfect for you. For us.”
The ring catches the candlelight as I reach up to touch his face. Victor turns his head slightly to kiss my palm.
“I want to make love to you,” he murmurs against my skin. “Here, under the stars, as your fiancé.”
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “Please.”
Victor undresses me slowly, reverently, his large hands trembling slightly as they slip beneath my shirt.
Each touch feels different now—weighted with promise, with permanence.
The ring on my finger catches the candlelight as I reach for him, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the expanse of his chest.
When we’re both naked, Victor lowers me onto the blankets, his body covering mine like a shield against everything but this moment, this feeling between us. His kiss is achingly tender as he moves inside me, our bodies finding the rhythm we know, though everything about it feels new.
“I never thought I’d have this,” Victor murmurs against my neck, his voice breaking. “Never thought I’d be brave enough.”
I cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me as we move together. “You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known.”
Victor’s eyes shine in the candlelight, and I watch as a tear slips down his cheek. The sight of it—this powerful man so moved, so vulnerable—breaks something open inside me. My own tears come then, sliding silently into my hair as Victor kisses them away.
“I’m yours,” he whispers, his movements growing more urgent. “Forever, Theo. I’m yours forever.”
My body arches beneath his, pleasure building between us until it’s impossible to tell where I end and he begins. When we finally crash over that edge together, Victor’s name tears from my throat like a prayer, and he holds me so tightly I can feel his heartbeat hammering against mine.
After, as we lie tangled together beneath the stars, Victor traces the ring on my finger. “Do you know when I knew?”
“When?” My voice is still rough with emotion.
“That day in the coffee shop. When you looked at me across the table and saw me—really saw me. Not the fighter. Not the gym owner. Just me.”
I press my forehead to his chest, breathing him in. “I’ll always see you, Victor. Every day, for the rest of our lives.”
Thank you for reading Dark Craving. I hope you enjoyed Theo & Victor’s story.
What’s next?
My new series, the Architect Series, is kicking off next Month with Prey.
I escaped his collection. Now I’m hunting them all.
I learned the difference between a cage and freedom the hard way—locked in Nikolai Vex’s carefully curated prison, I was just another possession.
Just another prize. But I got out. I learned to fight.
I learned to survive in the underground circuits where blood and sweat wash away the memory of captivity.
I thought I was free.
Then he found me.
The Hunter never forgets what’s his, and Nikolai Vex has been searching for me in every shadow.
But I’m not the terrified woman I was. I’ve spent months systematically dismantling the collectors—the predators who build their empires on stolen lives.
I’ve become something far more dangerous than prey.
When he recaptures me, something fractures between us. Violent. Obsessive. Raw.
His mask becomes a barrier between what he wants to hide and what I’m determined to expose.
Every brutal confrontation blurs the line between my escape and my surrender, between hunter and hunted.
With each clash, each touch, each question about the face hidden beneath that bone-white mask, I realize the most dangerous cage isn’t made of steel.
It’s built from want. His. Mine. The space between us that grows smaller and more lethal with every breath.
In the dark, some hunts end in blood. Others end in something far more intoxicating.