Epilogue
Esme claims the research room reminds her of the decades we spent apart, so after only a week of her knowing my identity, she boxes everything up.
“The Shellys might want the dragon books. They’re the witches who used to rent the apartment,” my harpy explains. “Have you been by their library?”
I shake my head as I help her arrange the heavy boxes in her car.
“Then, prepare yourself for a treat.” Esme flits to my side, pressing a hot kiss to my neck while my hands are full.
She enjoys doing that, I think, as a small means of torture. Giving me lusty kisses when my hands are occupied and I can’t grab her.
She’s a sneak, and I fucking love her for it.
She’s also brazen with her affection. The memory of how she laid me out on her bed and kissed every scar on my body makes me half hard. After packing the last box, I rearrange myself and slide into the passenger seat.
Then, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, drag her in for a scorching kiss, shove my fingers past her waistband until I find her greedy little clit, and mercilessly stroke her until she’s coming while strapped into the driver’s seat. Luckily, the car is in park.
“You bastard,” she pants. “Now, my underwear is going to be damp for this whole errand.”
I dip my fingers lower, stroking the wetness, then drag my hand free and suck her pleasure off my skin like the sweet treat it is.
She glares, even as her cheeks flush hot and needy. “You’ve turned evil. I’ve mated an evil dragon.”
“Mmm,” I rumble. “Yes.”
As Esme backs out of the driveway, she goes on a rant.
“I don’t know what happened to you. You used to be this sweet, preppy boy with styled hair and a closet full of polo shirts.
I used to make you blush.” Eyes on the road, she reaches over to poke my chest, and I chuckle at the playful assault.
“Remember that time you took me on your boat? You thought you were so cool and confident, up until I lost my top in the water. You were the color of a tomato! You could not form a single word.”
“Not true,” I argue, fighting my grin at the memory. “Think I said one.”
“Oh yeah. How could I forget? When I climbed out, you said, ‘Boobs.’ Like, really loud.”
Gods, I was dense. And obsessed with impressing Esme, who made the task impossible, which only made me try harder.
We turn down a road with lush green forest pushing in from all sides. How most of the roads around Lake Galen look.
“And now, you’re this confident, swaggering seduction master. It’s not fair. I’m going to have to up my game,” she declares just as she pulls into the driveway of a Victorian house.
The place looks kind of spooky in the evening light.
Perfect house for a set of witches and their magical library.
Esme throws the car in park, shuts off the engine, and turns to face me.
“Get ready,” she warns.
“For witches?” I ask.
“No. For me to up my game. Right now. Are you ready?”
I bite my lip to keep my laughter at bay. She’s too fucking cute, wanting to out-seduce me. Not like she needs to work at it. She walks into a room, and I’m already looking for a surface to bend her over. Still, I’m not about to complain.
At my nod, her smile grows wicked.
“I love the way your beard feels against my thighs.”
Damn her. I palm my dick through my pants and swallow hard. “Yeah?”
She nods slow. “Whenever you see me looking at your mountain-man facial hair, I want you to know, in that exact moment, I’m thinking about riding your face.”
“Fuck, Esme.”
I go to claim her mouth, only to get held up by my seat belt. As I wrestle with the strap, she giggles and escapes the car. When I get out, I have to tuck my hard cock into my waistband to hide what her words did to me.
“You’re evil,” I tell her as she pulls a box from the trunk.
“Then, we’re a perfect pair.”
My mate gifts me with a chaste kiss on the cheek, and I silently vow to make her come so many times on my tongue that she forgets her own name when we get back to her house.
The inside of the house looks like a library in progress. Some books are on shelves, but most are in stacks around the dim rooms.
“Thanks for these.” A curvy white woman with russet hair accepts the box in Esme’s arms. “I’m hoping to build out our sections on the different mythic groups.” Her eyes flick to mine. “I’m Morgana Shelly.”
“Sulien Blaythorn.”
I’ve decided to use my real name, parents and past be damned. Still debating on trying to find the legal documents my parents had for me or getting a new set forged. It’s not the most uncommon thing among our kind. A safety measure some use.
“Would you be willing to verify the validity of these texts?” Morgana asks me as I set down my box of books on one of the few clear surfaces in the room.
“Sure.” I feel no loyalty to my kind. No reason to keep their secrets.
“Are any of those grimoires?” The question comes from the stairs, where a woman with hair as red as Morgana’s and pale skin, covered in freckles, descends.
“Sorry, no.” Esme moves to my side and smiles at the new arrival. “Just dragon stuff. Sulien, this is Amethyst Shelly. Ame, this is my mate, Sulien.”
A bolt of pure pleasure goes through me. She’s called me her mate before, but this is the first time she’s used it in an introduction. I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling the lovely harpy into my side.
“Bummer. About the grimoires. Not about the mating. That’s a good thing.” The witch’s green eyes meet and hold mine, and I feel like she sees more than I mean to reveal. Suddenly, the woman smiles wide. “You’re exactly what Esme has wanted all this time.”
The words are odd, but also kind of endearing. Before I can think on them more, a territorial growl sets my hackles up. But then I see the noise emanates from the throat of a small black cat lingering on the steps.
“This is Bee,” Amethyst says. “Don’t take the aggression personally. He doesn’t like anyone.”
I meet the cat’s dark eyes, and for a moment, I’m held by the intense stare. There’s something in the depths, more than animal.
Understanding. Intelligence.
Rage.
“He’s a cat?” I have to ask, tearing my eyes away and meeting the freckled witch’s.
She tilts her head, wearing a sad smile now. “I’m ninety-six percent sure he’s not.”
Whatever he is, I sense familiarity.
He is what I was. A beast held captive.
“Don’t worry,” Amethyst assures me, as if hearing my thoughts. “I’m working on it.” Her attention flicks to my side, and I realize she’s holding Esme’s stare now. “Even if it takes forty years, I’ll figure it out.”
“Good luck,” my mate says, her tone sympathetic.
We leave then, both of us needing distance from the somber reminder of our forced time apart. When we reach the car, I stop Esme from climbing inside, pulling her in for a kiss. Not one of passion and sex and craving.
This one is a thank-you.
When I pull back, I find her lashes glimmering with tears, though her mouth smiles.
“I love you too,” Esme whispers. “For my whole life, I will always love you.”
“My mate,” I say in response, the words holding everything that’s in me.
Then, her eyes dip, lingering on my beard, before flitting back to my face as she smirks.
The tension breaks as I rumble a chuckle.
“Evil mate,” I mutter.
The next kiss is full of promises.