EPILOGUE
MARISA
Six Months Later
“So, what do you say we get out of here,” he coos in my ear, his fingers circling my waist through the thin fabric of my skin-tight dress.
I down the last dregs of my whiskey, letting the liquor burn my throat and warm my core.
“Ready whenever you are, Greg,” I tell him as I look over my shoulder and offer him a sly smirk.
Greg is a real charmer. He’s got the whole ‘bad boy’ thing down to an art, honestly. His hand tattoos and scruffy beard scream danger but his smirk says he’s down for a good time
And I certainly came here for a good time tonight.
“Your place or mine?” he asks as he peppers kisses against the skin of my neck. My dress is strapless, giving him easy access to plenty of exposed flesh.
“My car’s out back,” I tell him as I grab his hand and guide him to the back exit. “I’ll drive to my place.”
“My bike’s out front,” he says before smacking my ass so hard that several patrons of the bar turn and stare. “I bet you’d love being my backpack.”
Wow. Does that line actually work, bro?
I resist the eye roll and offer him a coy smile over my shoulder. “I’m actually a little afraid of motorcycles.”
The lie is almost too sinister for me to get out without a giggle.
“Don’t you worry, baby,” he reassures me as I lead him out the metal black door of the bar and into the cool night beyond. “I wouldn’t let you fall.”
The air stinks of the city—wet filth and horrible human choices. The sun has set, and in the darkness of night, the alley doesn’t look nearly as gross as when I scouted it earlier.
“Where’s your ca—” Greg’s words are cut off as I throw him against the brick wall. “Oh, you’re too turned on by the thought of my bike to wait,” he says with a smirk as his fingers twist his truly terrible neck beard. “I’ll gladly let you blow me, baby, if that’s what you want.”
The sound of a match bursting to flames down the alleyway pulls both our attention.
A figure cloaked in black and shadowed in darkness is leaning against the wall of the alley with one leg bent, his foot perched on the wall behind him.
He cradles the flame in his hands, bringing it up to light the cigarette between his teeth.
Now I really do roll my eyes. We talked about the damn cigarettes. He might be an immortal, but that doesn’t mean they’re good for him.
“Private party, pal,” Greg snaps, but I can hear the slight falter in his voice.
It’s smart to be fearful of my mate.
“No,” Phoenix purrs as he throws the match to the ground and smothers the flame under the heel of his boot.
The cherry tip of the cigarette glows across the darkness.
“It’s not.” He pushes off the wall and slowly starts to prowl towards us.
I feel my heartbeat quicken in anticipation.
“And this isn’t the type of party you were expecting, Greg. ”
My eyes clash with Phoenix’s, and even through the darkness I can make out his heated stare. I’m certain he was watching while I let Greg touch me, and I’m absolutely certain that my mate will make this horrible man pay for daring to touch what doesn’t belong to him.
“How the fuck do you know my name?” Greg demands, but I can hear his fear. “Who are you?”
Phoenix chuckles. It’s a dark sinister sound that travels straight to the space between my thighs. If I wasn’t so in love with this man, I’d be terrified of him.
“So many questions, Greggo.” Phoenix comes close enough that I can see the smoke billowing off his shoulders. “But how about I ask one first and then I’ll give you some answers?”
Greg does not look into this plan. His eyes dart around the alley. We did our recon. He’s not escaping here.
“Was it worth it?” Phoenix asks as he takes a hit from the cigarette, letting the smoke spew from his nose.
“Was what worth it? I barely touched this chick!” He motions to me as if that will save him.
“True,” Phoenix concedes. “But the other women, the ones that you blackmailed, weren’t so lucky were they?”
Even in the darkness I can see Greg pale.
“Nearly a dozen women whom you blackmailed into sexual favors and exploitation.” Phoenix’s tone is growing angrier with each word. I look down and notice the tips of his fingers have gone black. “You think of yourself as a real ladies’ man, Greg, don’t you?”
Before Greg can answer, Phoenix spins quicker than a human should be able to. His talon-tipped fingers fly to Greg’s head as he holds him firmly against the wall.
“What was it you told the last one, Greg?” my glorious mate asks as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth with his free hand and guides it towards Greg’s face.
“You deserve this, you fucking whore.” Greg is sobbing now, like a bitch.
Tears and snot are flowing down his face as he mumbles and pleas.
“Is that what you told her before you burned and beat her so badly that she went unconscious. Then you raped her and filmed it, right?”
Greg utters something unintelligible, but we don’t need a confession. Dahlia already showed us the video. He sent it to her. Told her to keep her mouth shut or he’d put it on the internet. Fucking creep.
“This will hurt,” Phoenix warns, not sounding sad at all as he brings the lit cigarette up to Greg’s eye.
Greg puts up a bit of a fight, thrashing and kicking. But Phoenix is a fucking god. The smell of singed flesh fills the alley, and Greg’s shrieks pierce the night air as Phoenix shoves the heated end straight into Greg’s eye. I turn away out of disgust, not pity. This man deserves zero pity.
“Shut the fuck up and take it,” Phoenix snarls, the monstrous side of him peeking from beneath his human mask. Those were the words Greg always said to the women he assaulted.
I sneak a peek back just in time to see my god of vengeance drag a sharp talon across Greg’s throat.
At first, it’s just a thin red line, a small scrape.
And then comes the blood. A cascade of scarlet pours from Greg’s severed throat, gushing down the front of him like a river of red.
His hands go to his throat, trying desperately to stop the flow of life gushing from his body.
But it’s too late. His eyes go wide in horror as the realization of his death hits him.
“Ready, moya p?těn?c??” Phoenix asks as he spins to face me. “We have an early morning meeting with the wedding planner, after all.” He smirks and a dimple appears in his cheek.
I love that damn dimple.
The rest of him isn’t bad either.
“How’d you convince me to marry you again?” I snark as he slings his arm over my shoulder. Behind us, I hear Greg’s corpse flop to the ground.
Bye, Greg.
“You were charmed by my good looks and my exceptional skills as a lover,” he says as he places a chaste kiss on the top of my head.
“Nah,” I say with a shove to his ribs. He feigns pain, grabbing his side. “It’s definitely the double dicks and the whiskey flavored cum that have me sticking around.”
His chuckle echoes off the brick walls around us. “Well, you have an eternity to enjoy it, Little Spark. After next month, you’ll be legally and officially my mate and my wife. Then, honeymoon on the beach.”
I love it when he says the word wife. I spent so long alone, relying only on myself.
It’s nice to let someone in finally, to have a true partner that I can trust and count on.
I’m still a badass woman who can fend for herself, but sometimes it’s nice to have a partner cheering on your badassery.
The little girl inside of me who was abandoned and had to find the strength to exist all on her own in a world that can be cold and cruel is healed just a little bit knowing that I’ll never have to face anything alone again.
Plus, the thought of Phoenix on the beach sends a surge of pleasure through me.
I’m having a hard time picturing the immortal god of fury and vengeance building a sand castle.
“I love you, Phoenix,” I tell him as I slide my hand in his and give him a soft squeeze.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he tells me back, pulling me into him and planting a soft kiss on my lips. “Now, let’s get you home and out of these clothes.”
He wags his eyebrows at me seductively and I can’t help but laugh. I may have been out conned by an asshole with a motorcycle, kidnapped by the mafia, forced to endure Felicity’s hospitality, and almost murdered. But I wouldn’t change a moment of it because it led me to my very own monster.
He is fire. He is fury. He is flames. And he is most certainly mine.