Epilogue
KNOX
The phone rings just as I’m oiling my chaps. It’s Gary. I answer, leaning against the side of the bull chute.
“I’m in,” I say. “For the Bayou Circuit. I’ll take the contract, but only for the second half of the circuit.”
“Good,” Gary says. “I already sent the PDF over. Sign it, send it back. We’re good to go. Good luck today.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Speaking of beds,” Gary says, “how’s it going with your little vandal?”
He is, of course, talking about the reason we all almost lost our home a little over a month ago.
West got a name. It was Regina Madsen. She’s the developer trying to snap up land for that new resort project over the pass.
She hired a crew to sabotage the properties in the area to devalue them.
She was planning to buy at auction once the county condemned them.
“Scheming bitch,” I mutter. “She’s being served with a restraining order as we speak. Saramaria confronted her in Denver yesterday. I don’t know the details, but word is my girl handled it.”
“Good. I’m glad that’s resolved,” Gary says. “And I know you weren’t happy about the Bayou circuit, but it’s good money and even better exposure. You’ll be riding bulls twice a year and winning trophies just as much.”
“Thanks.”
“Tell your girl I said hey.”
A thrill of pride goes through me. Our girl.
She’s a shark when she needs to be.
“I will. Thanks, Gary.”
“Go win today, Knox. The coverage will be insane after that whole Jack thing—this is your chance to show all the sponsors why they need to bet on you instead.”
“I will.”
I hang up. I toss the phone onto the hay bale. I adjust my vest. The competition is in a few hours. It’s the relaunch of the APbrA season, the first big event since the scandal. It’s being held at the arena in town. The organizers are nervous. The riders are antsy. The energy is electric.
I walk back to the house to get ready. Saramaria’s rental is parked in the driveway. She just got back from Denver. She’s unloading a suitcase onto the porch, looking exhausted but fierce.
“You’re back,” I say.
“I’m back,” she says. “And I missed it. Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing yet, babe,” I say, grinning. “It’s in a couple of hours. The arena is packed. It’s going to be wild.”
Her eyes light up. “Are you excited?”
“I’m going to ride with my Omega cheering for me in the sidelines,” I say. “I’m ecstatic.”
She looks at me, then at my chaps, then back at my eyes. There’s a hunger there. A heat that has nothing to do with the competition and everything to do with us.
“Come inside,” she says. “I need to change.”
I follow her into the house. It smells like her. Vanilla and honey. It makes my blood heat up.
“Where are the others?” she asks, kicking her shoes off.
“Boone is feeding the horses. Rhett is dealing with West about the paperwork for the restraining order. They’ll be back soon.”
I don’t give her a chance to say anything else. I scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder. She laughs, a bright and happy sound that vibrates against my chest.
“What are you doing? You have to be at the arena!”
“I have time,” I say. “I need to recharge.”
I carry her to the bedroom. I drop her onto the mattress. She’s wearing a skirt suit that hugs her curves in ways that should be illegal. I want to tear it off her.
I kneel on the bed, hovering over her. “Did you miss me?”
“I missed all of you,” she says. “Denver was lonely.”
I hook my finger in the collar of her jacket and tug. The button pops off. I push the fabric aside.
“Knox...” she breathes.
“I’m admiring the merchandise,” I say.
My eyes catch the mark on the top of her breast. A purple bruise. A bite. I trace it with my thumb, remembering the bonfire two weeks ago. The way she looked, the way she smelled, the way we took her on the ground right here in the yard. We claimed her that night.
She’s ours. We all know it.
“You’re not a lawyer right now,” I say. “You’re just Saramaria.”
“No,” she says. “I’m just yours.”
Those words undo me. I rip the shirt down the middle. Buttons fly. She gasps, her back arching off the mattress.
Before she left town to go follow up on her caseload in Denver, we were all worried that she wasn’t going to come back. But she did.
She’s trusting us to keep her ranch running for her, when she’s up in the city being a big-shot lawyer.
A sexy-as-fuck lawyer.
“By the way,” I say, nuzzling her neck, “the contract for the Bayou circuit is sitting in my inbox, ready for you to review it.”
“Did they agree to more money?”
“They did, thanks to you. I think we’ll be making a lot of money, baby.”
“It’s your money.”
I bite and then quickly soothe the delicate skin of her throat. “Our money, Saramaria.”
The sabotage was a wake-up call. For all of us. We need to be better. We need savings.
“Thank you for trusting me to handle business for you,” she says. “We keep working and putting money aside to keep this place afloat. I’m not going to let this place fail. And neither are you. You’re going to save your winnings. We’re going to build a future.”
I freeze. The heat in her scent intensifies. It’s thick, sweet. It reminds me of the fear she felt about being pregnant.
“I’m going to breed you,” I say. The thought slams into me. I want to see her belly round. I want to see her heavy with my child.
The idea of it makes my cock throb. I need to be inside her. Now.
I drag her skirt up her hips and yank her panties down.
“Knox,” she gasps.
I look down at her. She’s wet and ready.
“I’m greedy,” I mutter. “I can’t wait.”
I undo my belt. The buckle clinks. I unbutton my jeans.
Just as I’m about to settle between her legs, the door flies open.
Boone stands there. He looks wild-eyed, intense. He sees me, half-naked, poised above her.
“You don’t waste time,” he says. He kicks the door shut and walks over.
“I was feeling greedy.”
He smiles as he tears at his own belt. “I can’t blame you. Our girl is so damn hot. Let me have a taste, too.”
He steps back and sheds his clothes in record time. He climbs onto the bed behind Saramaria. He wraps his arms around her, trapping her against his chest.
“Knox,” she moans. “What are you doing?”
“I’m second,” Boone says. “Don’t worry. Scooch.”
She moves over, making space between us. Boone looks at me, his eyes dark with lust.
“Turn over,” he commands. “I want inside your ass.”
She whimpers but obeys. She turns onto her hands and knees.
Boone grabs lube from the nightstand and pours it onto himself.
“Ready?” he growls as he strokes his cock.
“Yeah.”
He lines up behind her, and I watch him enter her. She cries out, her head dropping to the mattress. He moves slowly at first, letting her adjust, and grips her hips.
I crawl up the bed toward her head. I brush her hair away from her face.
“You look good, baby,” I say. “Full of us.”
She looks up at me, her eyes glazed with pleasure. “I feel so full.”
“You can take more,” I say. “We can all fit.”
She opens her mouth and sucks two fingers. Her tongue swirls around them. The sight makes me want to scream.
The door opens again.
Rhett stands there. He takes in the scene—me at her head, Boone at her back. He looks tired, but his eyes light up when he sees her.
“One of you come fast,” he says. “I miss my girl.”
He locks the door.
He strips down in record time and joins us on the bed.
Laughter bubbles up in my chest, mixing with the lust. It’s absurd. It’s chaotic. It’s perfect.
This is my life. This is my pack.
We spend the next hour wringing pleasure out of her. When we’re finally spent, tangled in a heap of limbs and sheets, we lie there, catching our breath.
“Competition,” I say, checking the clock. “We have to go.”
“We have to win,” Saramaria says, her voice sleepy.
“We’ll win,” I say.
The arena is loud. The lights are blinding. The crowd is screaming. It’s the first time the APbrA has held an event since the scandal.
I strap on my vest. It feels familiar. It feels right.
I look up at the box seats and see them.
Boone. Rhett. Saramaria. They’re sitting together. Saramaria is holding a huge sign that says KNOX #1. She has blue and gold glitter on her cheeks. Willa is sitting next to her.
I feel a surge of adrenaline.
I nod at them.
Boone tips his hat. Saramaria grins and waves the sign.
I climb into the chute. The gate opens.
The bull is waiting for me. He’s angry. He’s fire and muscle and fury. He wants to destroy me.
I can’t wait.
I nod. The gate drops.
I burst out of the chute. The crowd roars.
I ride like a man possessed. I use the anger and the love and the pure, unadulterated joy of being alive and being theirs. I move with the bull, absorbing the shock, countering the moves.
Eight seconds.
I spin. I jump. The crowd goes wild.
I hit the dirt, raising my arms in victory.
I look up at the box.
Saramaria is screaming. She’s standing on her feet, clapping. Boone and Rhett are laughing.
I take off my hat and point it at her.
This is my win. But it’s our life.
I won. We all won.
THE END