Epilogue
Tamsin
The water scalds my skin, and I let it, standing still while it runs down my back as if it can strip everything from me—blood, fear, Felix’s uneven sobs—until all of it is washed away, and I finally let my brain rest in silence.
I press my fingers against the tile, trembling not from weakness but from the hollow ache that follows a purpose fulfilled, that strange stillness when there’s nothing left to chase.
I did it. He’s dead. They are all dead and she’s avenged.
I tip my head into the steam, eyes closing, and I feel him. He steps into the shower without a word. No towel, no soap, just skin and heat. His hands find my hips. I breathe for the first time since the floor turned red.
“I thought killing him would change me,” I say, my voice thin in the steam. “Thought I’d come out the other side… different. Fixed.”
“You do not need to be fixed,” he says, voice low and steady. Too steady for a man wired to destroy.
Something in me cracks and I turn to him. He’s all hard edges and silent rage, the kind of danger that doesn’t warn before it strikes. But his eyes—hell—his eyes soften, just for me. A look no one else will ever get, because he doesn’t have softness… not unless it’s for me.
His knuckles brush my cheek. “Do you still want me, Tamsin? All of me. Even the fucked-up, violent parts?” He leans in, resting on my forehead.
“Because I can’t survive without this. Without you. I’d carve the world open to keep your scent in my lungs. You belong to me, hellcat. That’s never changing.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, cheek to his chest, water threading between us. “I never wanted anyone else. You weren’t the darkness, Eiden. You were the hand that found mine and dragged me out into the light.”
His mouth crushes into mine—punishment, prayer, and warning all in one. I open for him, greedy, as he walks me back into the cold tile. One hand brackets my jaw, holding me still as if he could crawl inside and stake a claim on every breath. The other skims my belly and slides lower.
His fingers find my heat, and he groans, rough and close. “Fuck. You’re soaked. Is that for the killing or because you knew I was coming to take what’s mine?”
“You,” I breathe, and his quiet laugh vibrates through my chest.
“Damn right it’s for me.” His fingers curl inside me, slow and deep, pressing that place that makes my knees soften.
“I’ll never get tired of this,” he murmurs into my throat, each word searing into my skin. “Feeling you stretch. Take me. Owning you from the inside out.”
When he pulls his fingers away, I can’t bite back the sound. He catches my thigh and hooks it against his hip; his thick cock notches where I’m already aching, and the world narrows to just him.
“Break me,” I breathe. “Make it hurt. Make it mean something.”
His fingers tighten on my neck. “Careful what you beg for, sweetheart. I don’t break things. I fucking ruin them.”
He drives into me in one brutal, perfect thrust, and my cry ricochets off the tile—half pain, half relief—the burn giving way to a fullness that feels like fate.
He withdraws only to slam back in, harder, deeper, his palm at the back of my neck keeping me exactly where he wants me while water thunders over us. Every thrust says mine.
I take him because I want him, nails dragging down his back as he pistons into me, relentless, until he bottoms out and grinds so deep it feels like worship.
“You feel that?” he growls into my mouth. “That’s me. Filling you. Marking you. Fucking claiming you.”
I nod, choking.
He kisses me as if he’s starving; the pressure building, tight and bright, coiling into something that demands we fall together.
“I’m going to come inside you,” he snarls, lips bruising mine. “So deep it’ll take days to forget me.”
“Good,” I shiver, tightening around him. “I never want to forget you, Eiden.”
That breaks him. His rhythm stutters and his teeth sink into my shoulder. His body locks while he throbs deep inside me, and I come with him, muscles clenching, dragging him deeper, holding him there.
We stay like that, forehead to forehead, chests heaving, while the water keeps running and the steam keeps rising. Somewhere outside, the city remembers its heartbeat.
Something ended in that cabin, and something unholy was born right here—in the heat, the blood, the silence—us.
Eiden
The kitchen smells of burned toast and coffee, warm in the morning air.
Tamsin’s leaned back against the counter, one bare foot propped on the cupboard, laughing at something Beau mutters while pretending he isn’t watching the door.
She looks like she belongs here, and for the first time, I admit it out loud in my own head: I used to think we were enough.
Now, I can’t imagine this life without her.
“Lucien’s dropping by,” I say, crossing to her and fitting my palms around her thighs, thumbs stroking the bare skin above the shirt hem. “I love you in my shirts, hellcat… but you’d better be wearing panties.”
She tips her head back, mouth curving in challenge. “Want to check?”
Oh fucking hell.
Not with an audience but if the guys weren’t here, she’d be bent over the counter, cheek to the cold stone, praying for mercy I wouldn’t give. Instead, I steal her mug and take the heat she leaves on the rim.
“Why is Lucien coming?” Beau tries for casualness, but there is a faint tremor that slips into his voice.
“He’s bringing in some urgent files.” I sip, settle beside Tamsin.
“So there’s more of you? Of Eidolon?” she asks, eyes locked on mine.
“Small crews here and there,” Caleb answers without looking up, thumbs idle over a dark screen.
“So… you are more like a secret society, not a pact,” she decides, and the room stills around her words. Could be. The thought of a network hunting monsters in every city makes something in me light up.
Heavy steps hit the porch. Beau goes rigid. His fingers curl against the counter, and he subtly shifts closer to Tamsin, trying to hide behind her sunshine.
The door swings wide without a knock. “Door was unlocked,” Lucien says, his voice deep enough to scrape. Six-six of tattoos and control, blue eyes cutting through the room as if searching for the weak link, and they stop on Beau.
Tamsin catches it instantly. Her gaze flicks to me, curious. I lean down, lips brushing her ear. “You see it too?”
“Yup,” she pops, and Beau throws me a glare, but I just smirk and kiss the top of her head.
Lucien steps forward and offers his hand to Tamsin. “Nice to finally meet you.”
She takes it, and I mutter “fuck” under my breath because of course she will remember him, her eyes narrow at me. “You had me followed?”
I drink my coffee, unapologetic. Lucien laughs, the unhelpful bastard.
“The files?” I murmur, my voice rough with the last remnants of her on my tongue.
Lucien tosses the folder onto the counter. It lands with a thud.
A photo slips loose and skids to a stop, faceup.
Another man, another name.
“New target.” He grins, but it’s edged. Always is.
Tamsin steps forward, bare feet silent on the floor, one of my old shirts hanging off her and she picks up the photo, studies it.
“Do I get to kill him?”
Beau chokes on his coffee and Caleb grins wider.
I watch her. My blade. My ruin. My beginning.
“Looks like our little crew just got a hell of a lot more dangerous.”
I drag my thumb across her bottom lip, still tasting sin and violence. “And I wouldn't have it any other fucking way.”
She smirks, and I’m already planning the mission.