Epilogue Nia
“THE HISTORY OF SAMHAIN—AND YES, THEY WERE NAKED BACK THEN.” —THE WEEKLY HEX
“The witches are already naked,” Nia said with a laugh, shaking her head as she scanned the celebration.
Lochlan looked at her with the same crooked smile that always made her knees weak. She leaned into him, soaking in his warmth.
Not all of the witches were naked—some still wore flowing clothing and others had clearly come straight from Halloween with the regs, their costumes a mixture of eerie and ridiculous.
A vampire adjusted his plastic fangs. A woman in a cat costume had ditched her ears but kept the whiskers drawn on her cheeks.
Becket looked unimpressed. His gaze swept over the revelers, his lips a flat line. “I need a drink,” he muttered, stalking toward the bar.
Nia watched him go, brows lifting. “What’s with him?”
But before he could answer—
“Lochlan!”
Nia turned and felt her stomach drop. Naked Nancy hobbled toward them, arms flapping dramatically and other things jiggling.
Nia pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but the corner of her mouth twitched treacherously. Lochlan, meanwhile, had gone rigid.
“I’ll get drinks,” he muttered, his gaze locked on the sky as he made a swift exit.
Nancy, undeterred, changed course and followed after him.
Nia couldn’t hold back her laugh.
“Pyronia.” Her father’s voice came from behind her, gruff but warm.
She turned. This time, no tension curled in her chest, no resentment lingered between them. Instead, she smiled, bright and genuine, as she let him press a kiss to her cheek.
They’d both worked hard over the past two weeks to address the things that had kept them apart for years, and the air between them had cleared.
Nia had made copies of her mother’s diaries for him, though she didn’t know if he would ever read them.
They sat on a shelf in his new townhouse, the one he shared with his hauntingly creepy but loyal butler and his even more terrifyingly talented chef.
“I’m glad I caught you before the debauchery begins,” Wulfric said, his lips twitching.
“Why?” Nia teased. “You’re not about to marry me off to someone else, are you? Or thinking of getting hitched yourself?”
“Not tonight,” he replied with a rare smile.
Then he took a breath, as if bracing himself. “I know you didn’t want me to interfere with your application, and I didn’t. I swear. But I had to be the one to tell you.” He paused dramatically. “The funding was approved.”
Nia’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s locked in for five years,” Wulfric continued. “And after that, you’re eligible to have the House for Wayward Supernaturals permanently funded by the Videt.”
She barely processed his next words.
“I may even have offered the manor as a second location when I got the news.”
For a moment, Nia could only stare at him. The words sank in slowly, their weight settling in her chest, filling her to the brim.
“Dad!” she squealed, launching herself at him.
He let out a startled laugh, catching her as she threw her arms around him. He held her tight. “I’m so proud of you,” he said into her hair. “Your mother would be so proud.”
Nia closed her eyes, emotion thick in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I never doubted you’d get it,” Wulfric murmured. “Even after you insisted I stay out of it and demanded none of my council be on the approval committee.”
She pulled back, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “Only because I know how persuasive you are.”
She and Ivy had worked tirelessly on their proposal in the days since Nia’s kidnapping.
They had presented five- and ten-year plans to the Videt committee only the day before, outlining structure, programs, and long-term benefits for the supernatural community.
It had been one of the most ambitious things they’d ever done—years of planning and dreaming transformed into a single comprehensive plan in a matter of days—but their vision of what the House for Wayward Supernaturals could be had kept both her and Ivy going.
And now? It would be real.
The thought of what this could mean, not just for Stella Rune, but for witches and supernaturals everywhere, sent another surge of pride and hope through her.
There was still so much work to do. For their world.
For a future where supernaturals and regulars could finally coexist. And Nia had a feeling that this—the House, the work ahead—would be an essential part of it.
Lochlan arrived and handed her a drink.
“Fairy wine-free,” he teased. “I spoke with Thane today,” he said, turning to Wulfric. “He has news.”
“Not now,” Wulfric said, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes. “We can talk tomorrow. Tonight I’ll make my rounds and head out. Blessed Samhain.” He smiled at them both before stepping away into the crowd.
Nia turned back to Lochlan, her heart still racing. “We got the funding.”
“Of course you did,” he said, warm and certain. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, the kind that said everything words couldn’t.
She smiled against his mouth, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. Lochlan had been there through every late night, every moment of doubt. His steady presence had been her anchor—and she couldn’t imagine having done it without him.
A familiar voice broke through her thoughts.
“Nia!”
Ivy barreled toward them, her sheer dress catching the firelight in dazzling flashes. Nia set the drink aside and rushed to meet her friend halfway, grabbing Ivy’s hands in excitement.
“We got the funding!”
“No.” Ivy gasped, her face lighting up with pure joy. “You’re kidding!”
“I’m not!”
They squealed in unison, laughing and jumping up and down like they were teenagers again. Ivy hugged Nia tightly, her voice muffled against her shoulder. “I knew we’d get it. Goddess, this is going to change everything.”
“I think it just might. And none of it would have happened without you.”
“Don’t you dare get sentimental now,” Ivy teased, fanning her face dramatically. “I refuse to cry before the dancing starts.”
“Good thing it’s starting now,” Nia said, grinning as she grabbed Ivy’s hand and tugged her toward the fire.
The music swelled, a lively beat carried by drums and stringed instruments. Ivy let out a delighted laugh and spun in a circle, her dress catching the air like a shimmering cloud. Nia joined her, their laughter blending with the rhythm as they twirled and swayed.
From the edge of the firelight, Lochlan watched, an amused but hesitant smile on his face. He looked so out of place—tall and stiff among the fluid movements of the dancers. Nia broke away from Ivy and made her way to him. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him into the circle of dancers.
“Nia,” he began, reluctant.
“You’ll be fine,” she teased, her smile playful as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“The lack of fairy wine makes this hard,” Lochlan muttered, his feet shuffling awkwardly as he tried to match the rhythm.
Nia stepped closer until her body was pressed against his. Her hands slid up to rest on his shoulders, guiding him gently. “You don’t need to be drunk,” she whispered, her voice low and seductive as her lips brushed his. “You just need me.”
She swayed her hips in time with the tune, and Lochlan’s body responded. His arms settled around her waist, pulling her closer as he followed her lead.
“See?” she murmured against his ear. “You’re perfect.”
Lochlan’s hesitant smile turned into something brighter, more confident, as the music carried them.
In that moment, there was nothing else—just the two of them, moving as one in the glow of the firelight.
Lochlan leaned in to kiss her, his lips brushing hers with a promise of something deeper. But Nia pulled back at the last second.
“Oh, no,” she teased, dancing away and out of his grasp. “You’re going to have to work for it.”
The cool night air brushed over her skin as she shrugged off her jacket, letting it drop at her feet.
A flicker of heat danced in her chest—her own daring thrill—as she reached for the hem of her dress.
With a deliberate tug, she hiked it up just enough to free her legs, the soft fabric brushing against her thighs as she began to move.
She let the music take over, swaying her hips to the rhythm, her hands gliding along her body in a way that felt both freeing and provocative.
A grin tugged at her lips as she twirled, the bare skin above her stockings warm in the firelight.
Her gaze snapped back to Lochlan, daring him to follow her lead, to lose himself in the night, in this moment.
Lochlan let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.
He pulled off his jacket slowly, tossing it aside.
His fingers went to his cuffs next, rolling up his sleeves, revealing forearms corded with muscle.
When he undid the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing the hollow of his throat and just a glimpse of his chest, her breath hitched.
His gaze was no longer hesitant. It was heated, ravenous.
Nia felt her pulse quicken, heat pooling low in her belly.
Goddess, that look… it was enough to make her slick, her thighs pressing together involuntarily.
He took a step toward her, closing the distance, but she danced away, her laughter light and teasing as she beckoned him with a crook of her finger.
Lochlan chased after her, his steps growing bolder, more fluid with the music.
She moved around him like a flame, her fingers brushing his arms, his shoulders, his chest. They danced through another song, and then another, their movements growing more tangled, more intimate.
His hands found her waist, pulling her against him as her fingers threaded through his hair, mussing his waves until they were a glorious mess.