Epilogue
Gold, Fur, & Fire
Spoiled didn’t begin to describe Marigold’s new life. Being doted on by three powerful men at all times could have that effect.
But it wasn’t just their attention. It was the endless luxury. Her three bears made her feel like a queen every single day she promised she was theirs. And for that, they treasured her above all else.
Her closets were filled with designer clothes. Silk and cashmere, leather and lace, everything in colors that would complement her skin tone. But as beautiful as the day wear was, it was the intimate apparel that made her breath catch.
Lingerie in every style imaginable—delicate lace that would barely cover anything, silk that would cling to every curve, leather pieces that spoke to darker fantasies.
And in the back, hanging like promises of things to come, were garments she couldn’t quite categorize.
Beautiful restraints that looked like jewelry, corsets that were works of art, things that were clearly meant to enhance rather than conceal.
They thought of everything.
Her days were spent doing whatever she pleased. If she showed an interest in a hobby, she’d find herself surrounded by resources within hours. Books, crafts, and obscure ingredients whenever she had a craving to bake something. They indulged her every whim.
And she indulged them much the same. Though their desires were less tangible than hers and more often of the carnal sense.
And on the mornings after those exceptionally long nights, she found herself pampered beyond anything she’d ever known. They had a team of discreet specialists at their disposal, and often spoiled her with spa treatments that redefined her understanding of indulgence.
They instructed the massage therapists to work every knot out of her muscles with oils that smelled like heaven, until her skin glowed like moonlight and she felt like a living goddess.
She even had a personal aesthetician to perform a long list of beauty treatments until her skin appeared reborn, transformed into something that belonged on marble statues rather than mortal women.
She had stylists to take care every inch of her grooming.
Every hair below her neck had been removed with precision that bordered on artistry.
She let the staff buff and polish her until she gleamed like smooth, precious marble.
They shaped and painted her nails, lathered her skin in lotions, and basically transformed her into living velvet.
And then there was her very delicate, very thorough nurse, Elena, who saw to the more intimate preparations that often made Marigold’s cheeks flame.
Her approach was clinical but professional, and mortifying beyond description.
But Elena’s matter-of-fact methods made the process bearable, and afterward, Marigold always felt cleaner and more prepared for whatever intimacies awaited in the darkness ahead.
These rituals, which were once so foreign and strange, now felt like necessities. She shouldn’t become so dependent on luxuries, but whenever she uttered the slightest hint of guilt, the men chastised her in a way that made her remember their corrections every time she sat down the next day.
“We like taking care of you. Leave it at that,” Hunter had growled the last time she worried she was taking advantage of their kindness.
Stone drove home his point by planting another reminder on her bare ass.
“Okay!” She squirmed under the sharp sting. “I won’t complain anymore.”
Ash tsked. “What kind of woman complains about being spoiled anyway?”
“A naughty one.” Stone spanked her ass again.
Suffice it to say, after that night, she never felt guilty about accepting their gifts again. She simply accepted that she was their greatest treasure, and no matter what they gave her, they would always wish they could give a little more.
Ash said she needed to learn her worth.
Hunter said she was priceless.
Stone said she needed to be spanked more.
Maybe they were all correct on some level.
But after months of running and narrowly escaping a life sentence in a padded cell, it was hard to believe anyone would want her, let alone love her as deeply and completely as Hunter, Stone, and Ash.
While some people waited their entire life to find a single good man, she’d managed to fall in love with not one, but three gorgeously generous, doting—often demanding—men. Despite their rough edges, at their core, they were all honorable and kind.
And tonight, they were officially marking her as their own, a commitment she’d requested, and a gift they couldn’t resist granting. She was not just theirs. They were hers, and she wanted to make that claim for all the world to see.
Knowing dinner wasn’t for a few hours, Marigold drew a bath and grabbed a novel from the nightstand.
She sank into the tub with a sigh that bordered on ecstasy.
The water was perfect, hot enough to melt the tension from her muscles, and scented enough to make her feel like a goddess.
When her eyes got heavy, she set the book aside and floated peacefully.
This was what security felt like—not just physical safety, but emotional sanctuary. A place where she could explore desires she’d never dared acknowledge, with men who would push her boundaries while keeping her absolutely safe.
When the water had cooled, she finally emerged, wrapping herself in a soft towel. In the mirror, her reflection held a radiant glow—relaxed, like a woman who’d finally found her place in the world.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, as she combed through her damp curls.
Ash entered, carrying what appeared to be a jewelry box. His eyes tracked over her towel-wrapped form with evident appreciation, but there was something deeper in his stare—possession mixed with reverence.
“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” he said, taking her comb and setting it on the vanity. “But we have something for you.”
“What is it?”
“Open it and see.” He handed her the small package, and she lifted the lid.
Inside the box, nestled on black velvet, was the most beautiful necklace she’d ever seen. Not gaudy or ostentatious, but elegant in a way that spoke of old money and older power. The centerpiece was a pendant, chiseled with raw diamonds.
“Is it a bear paw?” The piece sparkled and gleamed as she turned it in the soft glowing light.
“The Volkov family crest,” Ash confirmed. “Worn by women who have given their hearts to Volkov men, dating back centuries before you or I ever existed.”
Like her, Ash had once been an outsider looking in. This wasn’t just jewelry. It was another claim. A public declaration of ownership that would mark her as theirs to anyone who understood the significance.
“Ash, it’s beautiful.”
“May I?”
She nodded, lifting her hair as he fastened the necklace around her throat. The pendant settled tight around her throat, a collar, warm against her skin like a brand.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his hands settling on her shoulders. “It looks good on you, like you were born to wear it.”
In the mirror, she could see how the necklace transformed her. She no longer looked like a refugee who’d stumbled into luxury. She looked like she belonged here. Like this life, this room, these men were always meant to be hers.
“How do you feel about tonight?” Ash asked softly.
“Scared,” she admitted. “Excited. Like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.”
“Are you getting cold feet?”
She met his eyes in the mirror, seeing patience and desire and something that could only be love. “No,” she whispered. “I want this more than words can say.” Her finger brushed over the diamond-crusted pendant. “I’m yours.”
“I ty moya. Nasha.” And you are mine. “Ours.” His smile was radiant.
Before she could respond, there was another knock then Stone let himself in, impeccably dressed in a dark suit.
“Dinner’s ready,” he announced, then stopped short when he saw the necklace, tracing an adoring finger from the pendant to her exposed collar bone, he gave her that predatory grin. “It suits you perfectly, Zayka.”
“Thank you.” She touched the pendant self-consciously. “For everything. The room, the clothes, the…”
“The chance to spoil you properly?” Stone finished with a smile. “Marigold, we’ve been over this—”
“I’m not complaining.”
“You better not be,” Ash admonished.
“I’m only trying to say thank you.”
Stone kissed her softly, gracefully accepting her gratitude as long as she accepted their gestures of love. “You’re welcome.”
Ash, not one to be outdone, pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeper.
Stone crowded her back, pulling loose the towel to run his fingers over her bare hips. “I can’t wait to get inside of you.” He pulled her hand to the bulge at his crotch. “Tonight can’t come fast enough.”
Marigold twisted out of their grip and covered herself with the towel. “Soon.” Seeing both of them in her room made Hunter’s absence that much more palpable. “Is he still angry?”
“More so…resigned.”
She hated disappointing any of them. “Maybe I’m making a mistake—”
“No,” they both said at once.
Ash took her hands, kissing her fingers. “You want this. We want this. Deep down, Hunter wants to fulfill your every desire. He just can’t bear the thought of you in pain.”
The pain was the most challenging part to imagine. “How bad will it hurt?”
Stone nudged Ash out of his way so he could frame her face and look into her eyes. “We have ways to manage the pain, Zayka. In Russia, we have a saying—Chto dayotsya legko, ne imeyet vesa—what comes too easily holds no weight.”
“He’s right. Pain is the price that transforms a simple act into a sacrament. Without the ache, without the burn, it’s merely touch. But with it?”
“Every mark becomes scripture written on your skin.” Stone dragged her hand over his face, where a jagged scar disrupted his beauty. “It’s a permanent reminder of what you were willing to sacrifice.”