Epilogue
ROSE
Three months later, Melbourne, Australia
Idon’t think Zak could keep a secret from me these days if his life depended on it.
The fact that he managed to hide the appearance of my antlers from me for a week will forever remain an impressive one-off event.
“What are you planning?” I ask, watching him fight to keep the smile off his handsome face.
“Nothing.”
“You liar,” I grin.” What are you going to do to me?”
“Who said I was doing anything?”
“You, with that face of yours.” I set down the book I’ve been reading — the romance novels written these days are wonderfully lewd without all of the problematic elements that books like Fanny Hill came with — and cross the hotel room, climbing onto the bed where he lounges naked, all smooth green skin and rippling muscles, his long black hair still damp from the shower.
I am utterly enamoured by him, and run my palms up his thickly-muscled thighs, pressing a kiss to his bent knee as my fingers graze his cock, the length of it thickening under my touch until it’s rock hard and leaking at the tip.
“I just got clean,” he mutters, but there’s no true complaint in his voice, and when I kiss the head of his shaft he lets out a deep sigh of pleasure. “I don’t deserve you, babe.”
“Mmm,” I hum, my mouth occupied, the taste of him ripe and sweet on my tongue.
That had been one of the best surprises when I returned to this realm; to smell the scent of his skin — sweet, musky male and utterly addictive — and to find out that orc seed tastes nothing like a human man’s.
It’s a thing, he’d told me once, referring to his cum, but I hadn’t truly understood.
I do now.
“I love you,” I whisper, pulling back his foreskin further, pressing my thumb to his frenulum and rubbing. He grunts — that’s a favourite spot — his chest rising in quickened breaths.
“Are you saying that to me or my dick?”
I laugh, giving him a final lick. “Both. I feel so very lucky, Zak.” My final words come out in little more than a whisper, choked emotions hitting me out of the blue again.
I blink through tears and Zak pulls me to him, holding me tight against his chest, where I always feel the safest. “I promise I’m happy,” I whisper, even as the tears fall.
The pressure of his hand rubbing circles on my back is a huge comfort. “I know.”
Returning to the land of the living — to a world so completely different from the one I knew —has been an adjustment, as Zak calls it, and sometimes I find myself in tears for no apparent reason.
A few weeks after my return to the land of the living, Van had insisted I attend therapy.
He’d proceeded to stand over my shoulder, ever the bossy alpha wolf, showing me exactly how to schedule online therapy sessions using my new phone that he’d paid for, using the credit card he’d provided me with, until he was satisfied that I was taking care of my mental health.
The sessions themselves have been helpful to a degree in that they’ve given me a space to cry — Zak and I now refer to them as my scheduled sob fests — and perhaps that’s all they’re meant to do.
“Grief isn’t linear,” Van reminded me just last week when I saw him, and I can agree with that wholeheartedly.
Getting on with living my life here with Zak — wherever here may be — is what has helped the most. With Ellie and Van’s immense generosity, we’ve moved into a cosy little house with a large, established garden on Motuwai, only ten minutes down the road from my sister’s vineyard.
I’ve started learning how to drive — an absolutely terrifying, stress-inducing ordeal — and can now operate a small vehicle in an empty carpark.
And Zak, my wonderful, brave, kind, and loving man, has taken on the lead role for Auckland Men and their new global tour.
We’ve talked at length about the stigma that comes with being a male entertainer, but it’s a job that Zak has come to truly enjoy.
He shines on the stage, and I love seeing him dance and act and entertain.
Doing this is, in his own words, a big fuck you to those who dismissed him in the early post-Unravelling days.
This show is a fresh start, not just for him, but for the entire crew, and by the end of next year Zak will be on the big screen like he always dreamed of.
There’s been a huge amount of interest in the documentary being made alongside the tour.
“You okay?” Zak murmurs now, his hands still running over my back, though they occasionally drift lower to knead at my backside.
“Yes,” I reply, sighing deeply. “Sometimes the emotions overwhelm me.”
“I know.” He tilts my chin upwards, until I’m staring into the kindest pair of eyes I’ve ever known.
That’s what drew me to him from the start — the kindness and warmth he’d exuded, despite his obvious fear of me.
I’d fallen in love with him before he ever truly spoke to me, simply watching him, feeling like a moth to a flame every time I caught a glimpse of him in his window.
I reach up, brushing back strands of his silky hair, tracing the side of his face with my fingers, marvelling at how handsome he is.
I love his tusks and the sharp points of his ears, the rich brown of his irises and his aquiline nose.
I love everything about him. “I love you,” I tell him again, stretching to kiss him on the lips.
I know that the long span of our lives will far outbalance those few months where I could not properly touch him, where I had no sense of the warmth of his body, or the taste of his mouth, or the scent of his skin, but I think that small period of time will always sit in my mind as a reminder to never take this for granted. Every moment with Zak is a gift.
All of this life is.
Being an unofficial member of the Auckland Men crew comes with benefits, namely the best seats in the house, right at the front, and early entry for myself and anyone else accompanying me.
Theron, my official bodyguard and Van’s uncle, has the night off thanks to his nephews who are here today, though he complains often enough about having to sit through endless amounts of rehearsals and performances.
Ellie sighs as she takes her seat beside me, her hands smoothing over her now very large belly. She’s tacked this show attendance onto the beginning of their babymoon, and will spend the next three weeks touring around Australia.
“Is she awake?” I ask, referring to my unborn niece.
“Oh yeah, she’s having a dance party right now. Here.” She takes my hand, pressing it to a spot just below her belly button. I’ve done this a few times before, and know that it’s always a waiting game when it comes to feeling the baby kick.
It was the same when my mother was pregnant with Iris.
“Now that your hand is there, she’s probably going to troll you and not kick again,” Van says from his seat on Ellie’s other side.
“I can be patient, I waited one hundred and ten years for this, after all.”
Seth, sitting on my left, shakes his head. “You’ve got a grim sense of humour.”
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. Oh, hello baby!” I coo as I get two very strong kicks against my palm. “Surely that must hurt?”
Ellie shakes her head. “It’s not the kicks, it’s when she presses slowly, like she’s trying to break her way out through my belly button.
That gets uncomfortable. I couldn’t sleep last week because it was so bad, and then the OB did a scan at the next appointment and said she’d turned head-down, so that’s why.
” She glances up at the stage as the growing crowd begins to cheer.
Unsurprisingly, it’s because Zak is walking across in a pair of black pants and matching boots, shirtless, but with a studded collar around his neck. He’s a fan favourite.
“Just wait till you have his big babies,” Ellie mutters, leaning into me.
“I don’t want to think about it. I will cross that bridge when the time comes, and not a moment sooner.”
I can see some of the other men, also shirtless, milling about in the wings.
When the majority of the theatre is full they’ll come out and start picking people from the crowd to join them on stage during the show.
Seth follows my line of sight before leaning over to whisper in my ear, “Are we gonna see full frontal tonight?”
I laugh while Van screws up his nose. “Seth.”
“What? I know you’re not the target audience, but I am. It’s a valid question.”
“About my brother-in-law.”
“This is his job, there’s nothing wrong with it. And I wasn’t asking about Zak. I’m meaning Mr handsome werewolf over there in the corner,” he adds, whispering the last part to me.
“I’m not going to ruin the surprise for you,” I reply, laughing at the huge grin on his face. I check the time on my phone. “Actually, I think I need to visit the ladies’ room,” I say, looking at him. “Sorry. You’re on guard duty.”
I do think everyone — and by everyone, I mean the Maheras coven — is being excessive about the danger posed to myself, particularly because Lylia is adamant that her ward is sufficient.
But the wolves need an excuse to mill about in the hope of catching my father, and so we all pretend that I need a bodyguard every time I step out of the house.
Thankfully, as time has passed Theron has relaxed significantly, and now maintains a much more casual distance whenever we’re back on Motuwai.
“It’s fine, I might as well go too,” he says, rising from his seat.
I follow him through the crowd that still mills about in the foyer.
Seth isn’t as big as Zak, but he’s still very tall, and easily cuts a path through the crowd of mostly-human attendees.
More than one woman brazenly checks him out, and he gives each of them a flirtatious smile back.
Like his brother, he’s very handsome in a conventionally attractive way.
I’ve seen all the Livingston men, including their father, turn heads while out in public.