Epilogue One #2
Nisha and Hype appear in the doorway behind Alexei, holding hands. Hype is a ruffled gremlin tucked in her sweatshirt with her green and purple hair matted and wild around her face. Somebody’s just been freshly screwed to within an inch of her life. I’m freakishly jealous for a second there.
Want to know how much sex I’ve had this week?
None.
Emma Jean is right behind them, chattering away while the pair do their best to ignore her.
I get it. She wants to write a book. She wants to write her articles.
She wants to change the world through honest journalism, a task that’s virtually impossible if you don’t have violence to back it up.
Suburbs is lucky she found her way into my crew.
“Can you call your dog off me?” Nisha grumbles, dragging Hype in the direction of the kitchen. Nish knows as well as I do what this smell in the air is, and Gram’s home cooking is a treat that we’ll never be too old or too jaded to appreciate.
“Dog?” Emma Jean repeats, appearing wounded.
“Don’t take it personally.” I stand up from Alexei’s lap as Bohnes takes the tiniest of steps back, ever my shadow.
He follows me from room to room. Into the bathroom.
Into bed. Into the bathhouse. I love it.
Alexei is no different. Even on Monday and Tuesday, when Burt sent a car to take him to the Borisov Group office, Bohnes and I went with him.
Widow has been staying back at the house to take care of Ash, and fuck, the seperation makes me twitchy.
“Nisha is like a cactus, I’ve learned,” Bohnes adds, not attempting to comfort Emma but trying to piss Nish off. “Nice to have around, but absolutely not something to be touched or interacted with.”
“Quiet, you man,” Nisha says, face squinched in disgust as she glances over her shoulder. “Why don’t you sit around for hours answering a bunch of shitty questions about some of the worst moments in your life, huh?”
“Don’t call my girlfriend a cactus!” Hype shouts at Bohnes, throwing a Christmas cookie at him that he catches in two fingers before sliding sexily into his mouth.
Alexei slaps his bare hands on his thighs and rises to his feet, the master of the house in every way that matters except the truth: I am the master of this house.
“Miss Emma Jean,” he begins, turning to her with all the dignity and poise of a man with a vast fortune, a hot wife, and three platonic soulmates with the strength, violence, and wit of an entire army.
No reason for him not to be confident, not that he ever lacked in that particular arena, even when his name was Alex Marie Jennings and he was a destitute student at Prescott High.
“While I appreciate your dedication to truth and justice, while your help in our cause has been invaluable, I would like to remind you that today is a holiday and that we do not work on holidays.”
Emma Jean lets her glittery pink, lilac-scented notebook fall to her side, looking chagrined.
“Isn’t Wolfman coming over later?” I ask, attempting to cheer her up.
It’s not like I have a car in this race, but hot damn, this girl deserves to lose her virginity to some hot Prescott beef.
Trust me: it’s choice. Emma’s cheeks explode with heat as Bastian saunters back in, wearing a brand-new suit of offensive flannel pajamas.
I feel like I’m always gonna miss the shitty, holey ones he used to wear in a nostalgic sort of way. “Oh, look, another virgin.”
“Seriously?” Basti asks, crossing his arms and giving me a look that reminds me of the way he’d glare at Lem when she said something silly. “After all we’ve been through, you think that’s an insult? Girl, please. I’m saving it for marriage at this point.”
“So am I!” Emma Jean shouts, a little too loudly and with too much red in her face for me to believe that nonsense.
“I saved myself for my future wife as well, so I can relate,” Bohnes agrees, casting Alexei an adorably cheeky and vicious little grin. “Marie, too. We approve of your restraint, don’t we?”
“Quite right.” Alexei slides his palms down his shirt, goes pale, swallows dramatically. I can tell he wants some hand sanitizer and gloves, but manages to resist the urge. “The more people one sleeps with, the higher one’s chances of dying.”
“Emma, listen.” I move over to her and clamp a hand on her shoulder, giving it a companionable squeeze. “If you’re patient, I’ll unload all the deets one day, okay? You can write your book or whatever the fuck it is. Just give us some time, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies, still blushing and clinging to her scented notepad. “That’s a promise, Miss Motherfucking Force, right?”
I sigh and nod, releasing her to the custody of Nisha, Hype, and Gram in the kitchen.
Bastian sits down at the table, clearing the board and getting it set up for when the boys and I come back downstairs.
I can’t wait any longer.
I lead the way, taking Bohnes and Alexei back to our room and opening the door on a sight I never expected to see.
Widow has an arm curled around Ash, holding him tight while the pair sleep as soundly as if they’d never suffered a day in their lives.
My eyes get all teary and shit as I tiptoe forward, waking Adrian despite how quietly I move.
His gold eyes flash on me a split second before his mouth twists into a welcoming smile.
“Hey baby,” he grumbles, all sleep-worn and sexy as I crawl into bed facing Ash. I want to pour my body over his and envelop him in my flesh, but he’s got that wound on his lower belly and I don’t want to hurt him either. Reaching out a hand, I place it gently on the side of Ash’s face.
“Hey baby,” I reply, feeling the bed dip as Bohnes sits beside me and Alexei moves around to take up the spot behind Widow.
Whatever reservations they all had about touching one another have fled like the wind.
They curl and twine together in warm, comforting shapes and sleep like the dead, knowing that one wrong pin drop and they’ll all be up in arms, ready to kill anyone that threatens our domestic peace and tranquility. “Doki-Doki Boy, you awake?”
Ash’s lids flutter, his long lashes sweeping across the porcelain of his cheeks and forehead as he opens them to peer at me from warm, dark eyes.
I’m trembling again as I stare at him, fully aware of how goddamn lucky we are that Jonas would rather see him live and suffer than kill him swiftly.
It’s a favor we’ve extended, putting Jonas in jail behind some bogus charges and a future trial that nobody but the mob’s people will ever bear witness to.
“I’m awake, Scarlett-sama.” Ash reaches out for me, pulling me into his arms and tucking my head beneath his chin. “Is it midnight yet? I don’t want to miss the New Year.”
“It’s only eight,” Alexei says gently, stretching both arms above his head and revealing his naked hands. No gloves in the bedroom ever, so hot. “Scarlett was just worried about you.”
“Just her?” Widow teases, drawing his arm back and sitting up with his back against the headboard. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
“We’re all very attached now, like filaments of a spider’s web.” Bohnes sighs dramatically, rubbing my back in soothing circles with his big, cool palm. “You can’t detach a single thread or the entire thing could fall apart. How are we supposed to catch flies without it?”
“You’re so very Edgar Allan Poe in your speech, sir,” Alexei replies with a genuine laugh. “You should consider poetry.”
“Ah, but my version of art is blood and bones, sir,” Bohnes retorts, and then they’re both laughing.
I’m still staring into Ash’s eyes, these pools of black ink and affection that might’ve dried up because of the events of last Friday.
Instead, they’re deeper, darker, and even more beautiful than before.
No matter what Jonas did, Ash would not break.
His gentle core remains intact, even now.
Even with the horror of waking surgery. Even with…
semen theft. Even with drowning in a dog cage. He is unbreakable, my sweet boy.
“I want to open up my rib cage, tuck you inside my skin like a blanket, and absorb you into my blood,” I murmur, nuzzling into Ash and throwing my leg over him even though I know I should be more careful with him.
“I’m not exactly opposed to that, but I would miss spending time with you.
How can I do that, if I’m busy oxygenating your blood?
” Ash nuzzles back against me, squeezing me so tightly in his arms that I’m almost surprised by how strong he is.
I mean, I knew he was. He can slaughter a dozen men with a sword, can’t he?
But damn, how am I supposed to pity him when he holds me like he could snap me in half? “Scarlett…oh, Scarlett…”
We burrow into each other, vulnerable and sensitive in a way that nobody else is allowed to see. Not Nisha or Bastian. Not Gram. Not Emma Jean. This is just for us, and we’ve been at it since the day Widow nearly killed himself to save a man he used to hate.
“You guys are gonna make me fuckin’ cry again,” Widow growls, rubbing at his face with both hands.
I’ve tried to dissect his trauma, spent hours cajoling him into telling me if he’s hurting.
He was operated on while awake. He was assaulted.
He nearly died in that river, too. And yet, all Adrian had to say over and over again to me was this: being hurt as a child, when nobody listened and nobody cared, that was hell.
Being hurt as a man with all this love and support behind me? Fuck all that.
The only thing that seems to upset Adrian is me and Ash being upset. Alexei and Bohnes are pillars, holding everyone else up on their strong shoulders. I have the actual best fucking family there ever was or will be.