Epilogue Two - Valen
Four Years Later
My workshop smelled of cedar, sweat, and the sharp, metallic tang of finishing oil.
I ran a piece of sandpaper over the crib’s top rail, giving it one last pass.
Every single piece was perfect and smooth as bone.
This thing was meant to survive centuries, long after Emmeline’s second kid grew out of it.
Funny how life pivots. Four years ago, I was a monster.
A ghost in a shed plotting my revenge. Now?
People whispered my name like I was some kind of artisan saint.
Orders were booked out months in advance—dining tables for celebrities, cabinets for penthouses, even wedding arches for couples who wanted a piece of something that would never break.
The settlement money had given us freedom, but it was my hands, the same hands that had broken men in prison, that built our future.
Through the window, I caught sight of Seraphine in her glass studio.
She was barefoot, hair twisted in a messy bun with a paintbrush through it, working on a canvas filled with bright, vibrant colors.
Her art had been seen everywhere, from New York galleries to European collectors and most recently a children’s hospital in Chicago.
Five years ago, all she’d painted was grief and ghosts. Now, she painted joy. And every time I saw it, I remembered I’d kill a thousand men if that was what it took to keep her smiling like that.
When she caught me watching, she gave me the most beautiful smile and headed in my direction. A few minutes passed, and she came in with two cups of coffee.
“That crib is stunning.” She reached down and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Emmeline’s going to love it.”
“She better,” I murmured, dragging her down until she was sitting in my lap. “She already threatened me if a single joint squeaks.”
Seraphine sighed, staring at the crib. “Can you believe she’s having another one? It seems like yesterday we were at the hospital when Sofia was born.”
“Hard to believe we’re godparents to a three-year-old monster who insists on calling me Uncle Viking.”
“You taught her the battle cries, Valen. That’s on you.” She chuckled, poking my chest. “I’m just glad everything worked out with her and Lucian. I thought she’d lost her mind when she told me how they met.”
“Just as crazy as our beginning.” I weaved my fingers through her hair, bringing her down for a kiss.
God, she was going to be the death of me.
Any time she was close, I had to touch her, make sure she was still here and she belonged to me.
“Glad it worked out for them. Speaking of, Sofia asked me last week why we don’t have any ‘mini-Vikings’ for her to play with. ”
Seraphine leaned back, studying my face. “And what did you tell her?”
“That Uncle Viking and Aunt Seraphine were focused on living our best lives… but it got me thinking.”
Her expression grew serious. “Yeah?”
“About whether we’re ready. Whether we want to be.” I squeezed her to me. “Whether we’d be good at it.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “I think about it often. Usually when I’m watching you with Sofia, or when I see the way you’ve made this crib like it’s the most important thing in the world.
And…” She nibbled on her bottom lip, looking like she was trying to find the right words.
“I get terrified. What if I can’t protect them?
What if something happens and I freeze up like I did that night? What if…”
“Hey.” I cupped her face gently. “You didn’t freeze up in the basement. You saved us both.”
“That was different. That was survival mode.” She leaned into my touch. “Children are so fragile, so trusting. What if I’m too broken?”
“You’re not broken,” I said, my voice firm. “You’re healed. There’s a big difference.”
And maybe that was true for me too. Because even with all the blood on my hands, even knowing the monster I was, I’d chosen happiness with her.
“You really think we could do it?” she murmured.
“I think we can do whatever the hell we want.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “But only when you’re ready. Not a second before.”
“I want it,” she whispered. “Someday. Maybe soon. I want to see what we’d create together.”
Someday I’d build a crib for our own child. And when that day came, I’d guard them with the same violent devotion. They would grow up knowing that love could move mountains and burn monsters to the ground.
I kissed her hard, savoring the taste of her. “Someday. Until then, you’re mine. Always and forever mine.”
She smiled against my mouth, then pushed me back until I was pressed against my workbench. “Then let’s practice,” she teased, and threw a leg over me until she straddled my lap.
Heat ran through me as she kissed me again, harder this time, more demanding. She slowly raised my arms and pinned them above my head. I groaned against her lips, and that was when I felt it.
The cold snap of metal against my wrists.
I opened my eyes to see her smirking. The cuff locked around my wrists, chaining me to the workbench I’d built with my own hands.
“Old habits die hard, my Viking overlord.” She dragged her nails down my chest, her grin wicked.
I didn’t even try to get free. I just chuckled, sinking back into the wood. A beast in chains, exactly where he wanted to be.
Thank you for reading Lilac and Bone! I hope you loved Valen and Seraphine’s story. If you’re craving more dark romance, check out Ruthless Hearts (a dark Bratva romance) for free here: or dive into Venom and Lace for an enemies to lovers fake fiancé story with crazy twists.