Epilogue 2
THE REQUIEM
“I am going.”
“No.”
I blink in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
Zagreus doesn’t even look up from the document in front of him. “No.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It absolutely is.”
I stare at my husband. My infuriating, overprotective, unreasonable husband.
“You didn’t even hear where I wanted to go.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Zagreus.”
“No.”
I put my hands on my hips. He keeps reading.
The bastard.
“I want to go into town.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He finally looks up. “Because.”
I wait, he waits. “That’s not a reason.”
“It is if I’m the one giving it.”
My mouth falls open. Across the room, Kyle slowly stands up.
“Nope.”
“Kyle—”
“Nope.”
He points between us. “I’ve survived three wars, fourteen assassination attempts, and Judas Romanovski for marrying his sister. I’m not getting involved in whatever this is.”
He leaves. Traitor.
The door shuts, and Zagreus returns to his paperwork. I march inside.
“I’m pregnant, not imprisoned.”
With our fourth child at that. The damn man wouldn’t let me be unpregnant for even two years. And strangely, I love it. But he’s infuriating sometimes.
His jaw does those things he does whenever he’s about to lose his cool. “Nobody said you’re imprisoned.”
“You literally won’t let me leave the estate.”
“I let you leave yesterday.”
“To the doctor.”
“Still counts.”
I gape at him. He dares to look pleased with himself.
“Zagreus.”
“Selene.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I cross my arms. “So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I want strawberries.”
“We have strawberries.”
“Not those strawberries.”
His eyes narrow. “What does that even mean?”
“I want the strawberries from town.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
He points at me. “See? That’s not a reason.” I scowl as he smirks.
I hate him. I love him.
Mostly I hate him. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m keeping our child alive.”
“You act like I’m trying to juggle knives.” His stare is blank.
“You attempted to climb onto the roof last week.”
“That happened one time.”
“You were six months pregnant.”
“I dropped my book.”
“You have staff.”
“I wanted my book.”
His eyes close like he’s praying for patience. “Do you know what Kyle said when he saw you on the roof?”
“No.”
“He asked if he could put a tracking device in your shoe.”
I burst out laughing, and Zagreus remains completely serious. “He was serious.”
That only makes me laugh harder. His expression darkens. “You’re not helping your case.”
“Oh, come on.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
His eye twitches, and I flutter my lashes. “Please.”
“Selene.”
“Please.”
“You’re twenty-seven years old.”
“Please.”
“You’re about to become a Mother for the fourth time.”
“Please.”
His jaw clenches, and I fight back a grin. He points at me. “That look.”
“What look?”
“That manipulative look.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
“I’m innocent.”
“Come here.” The command sends low vibrations that travel straight down my spine and pool between my thighs.
I walk around the desk, my hips swaying intentionally.
The second I’m within reach, his large, scarred hands wrap around my waist. He yanks me onto his lap, his fingers digging into my skin.
His palm slides beneath the gown, searingly hot against my bare stomach. Like it always does. Like he’s checking. Making sure we’re both still there.
“You’re ridiculous,” I murmur, my breath hitching as his thumb hooks into the waistband of my lace underwear, pulling me flush against the rigid length already stretching the fabric of his trousers.
“You’re reckless.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.” He slides his hand lower, his rough fingers brushing the slickness.
I gasp, leaning back against his chest. “Name one reckless thing I’ve done recently.”
His eyebrow rises, his eyes darkening. “Recently?”
“Yes.”
He counts them off against my bare hip, his fingers trailing sparks. “The roof.”
“That doesn’t count. I told you my book fell.”
“The horse.”
“The horse was friendly.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He liked me.”
“He tried to eat your hat, Dolcezza.”
“He was curious.”
“He was a stallion.”
I roll my eyes, but the sarcasm dies in my throat when his hand tightens on my waist so hard it leaves a mark. He pulls my face down, his breath fanning hot against my lips.
“You scare me.”
The words are so quiet I almost miss them, raw and bleeding beneath his usual arrogance. My teasing vanishes. Because I know what he means. I know the dark abyss from which fear crawls out. The five years.
I touch his chiseled cheek, my thumb tracing his jaw. His eyes find mine. “I’m right here, Zagreus.”
“I know.”
“Zagreus…”
He presses his forehead against mine, his grip shifting until he’s cupping my ass, lifting me slightly to grind his hard thickness right against my center. A soft whine escapes my throat.
“You have no idea what it’s like.” His voice is rough. “You walk into a room and my first instinct is to count the exits. You go quiet for five minutes and I start imagining disasters.”
I smile at him, sad. “That’s a little dramatic.”
His expression doesn’t change, his fingers sliding under the lace of my panties, ruthlessly parting my dripping folds. “I once dismantled an entire trafficking ring because you didn’t answer your phone.”
My eyes widen, my breath catching as his long index finger slides all the way inside me, stretching me wide. “What?”
“You were taking a nap.” He strokes inside me, his thumb locking over my swollen clit.
I stare, my hips arching into his touch on pure instinct. “Oh my God.”
“They deserved it.”
“Zagreus…”
“They did.”
A breathless laugh tears out of me, mixing with a needy groan as he adds a second finger, pumping inside me with a merciless rhythm that makes my vision blur.
“You know,” I choke out, wrapping my arms frantically around his neck as he drives his fingers deeper, finding the exact spot that makes my toes curl, “most husbands buy flowers.”
“I bought you an island.” He kisses my jaw, his teeth biting lightly into the sensitive skin below my ear. “And right now, I’m going to fuck you on the desk of it.”
“That isn’t normal.”
“Neither am I.”
Fair. Very fair.
He withdraws his fingers with a wet, sticky slap that makes me whimper. He clears the paperwork off the desk with his arm, sending folders scattering across the floor. He lifts me, depositing my bare thighs onto the cool mahogany, and rips his belt open.
His hard-on springs free, huge, veins pulsing, thick enough to make my pulse turn savage. He grabs my knees, pinning them back against my shoulders, exposing my dripping, aching core entirely to his gaze.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice dropping to a dangerous register as he rests the heavy purple head of his shaft against my opening.
I look. I can’t look away.
He drives forward in one deep thrust.
I scream, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he captures my lips. He fills me so completely it feels holy, stretching me to the absolute limit, his massive frame burying me against the wood. There are no ghosts here. Only his skin. Only his ink. Only his pounding that shakes the entire desk.
“Mine,” he growls against my mouth. “Say it, Dolcezza. Whose cunt is this?”
“Yours,” I sob, my walls contracting around him so tightly he groans. “Zagreus… please. I’m yours.”
He grips my stomach, his thumb stroking the small swell of our unborn child, while his other hand locks behind my head, pulling me into a dirty kiss. He hits my sweet spot over and over until my vision fractures into pure, blinding white. I scream his name, my body convulsing.
Slowly, he collapses against me.
He stays inside me, refusing to pull away, his hand sliding back over my stomach. The complete opposite of the monster the world thinks he is.
“What are you thinking?” I breathe, my fingers tangled in his damp hair.
He looks down. “I feel like this one is going to be an absolute nightmare.”
I beam through my tears. “Definitely.”
“She’ll have your stubbornness.”
“She’ll have your attitude.”
“She’ll have your ability to ignore common sense.”
“She’ll have your ability to drive me insane.”
His arm tightens around me, pinning me so close I can barely draw air. “I’m not insane.”
I laugh. “Zagreus, you’re literally crushing me to your chest right now so I don’t move an inch away from you.”
“I am protecting my property.”
“Possessive.”
“Protective.”
“Possessive.”
“Protective.”
“Obsessive.”
He pauses, a wicked glint in his grey eyes as he gives a small twitch inside me, making me gasp. “…Maybe slightly.”
I smile, tilting my chin up. He kisses my forehead. Then my nose. Then my cheek. As if he can’t help himself. As if after everything, his body still needs the physical friction to remind him that the fog is gone. That I am real.
And as my husband pulls me impossibly closer, I realize some things never change. And neither of us ever intends to let the other go.