Epilogue
CIELO
Pain. It’s all I’ve known for what feels like an age, though it has only been one first moon since they took me into custody. The devastated look on Everest’s face followed me into the prison.
It kept me up at night. It was there behind my eyelids while they beat me.
He is blaming himself, and I cannot allow him to do that. This was not his fault. I disobeyed direct orders. I am at fault. I was given the chance to prove myself—to protect my family and village. To show the capital that the Outerlands were not a waste of Eretharian air.
And I failed.
The fact that Everest was there to wrap me in his arms is a gift I do not reject, but probably should.
And then he comes.
Dante.
The kind one. The one who has given me a language to communicate, while my tongue cannot form human words. His hands flow like water over submerged rocks—a beautiful dance, like silent music.
The nightmares follow me, even as I’m awake, but as I leave The Foundry behind, my newly disgraced, banished identity nipping at my heels, I feel some measure of comfort.
I am injured, but I will heal. I can smell the herbs Rathyn provided. Yet another kindness I do not deserve, especially from a Vyastil of his station. After all, he was the one I disobeyed. He gave me orders to protect Everest at all costs, and I allowed my friendship to cloud my judgment.
We reach the place Dante lives. It is across the street from his shop, a modest place that smells like him, and I stumble through the door. The pain overwhelms any grace I might possess, and as he guides me to a long sofa, I collapse with a groan I can’t hold back.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. He kneels beside me, digging around in a small bag before producing a container of herbs. My mouth waters. I was given no relief when taking my punishment. “Rathyn says these will help.”
My mouth falls open, and he lays several on my tongue. They will not cure me, but the relief from the agony is almost instant. It fades into a dull throb, and it allows me to breathe easier for the first time in what feels like forever.
I lift my hand and tip my fingers from my chin.
He laughs. “You’re welcome. You’re learning fast.”
I had motivation. He was my motivation. But I do not tell him that. Not in signs, not in my poor attempt to speak his language. Closing my eyes, I let myself drift as he pulls away.
I can hear him moving about the apartment, pouring water into a glass, the thick sound of his throat swallowing. And then he’s back.
His light fingers explore my face, and I crack my one unswollen eye open to see him looming over me.
“So, ah…not to be, you know, indelicate, but I’m not sure how we do this.”
I make a questioning noise in the back of my throat.
His cheeks turn a beautiful pink. It reminds me of Quilliyn’s hair. Then he gestures down at where his human cock is hidden beneath his clothes. It is still odd to me that their cocks are out in the open with no protection.
And I still do not understand what he means.
“Everest said you need cum, and I have plenty of it. So, how does it work? You just, you know, suck?”
Shock races through me. Even at my highest station, I was not permitted cum from the source. In fact, I had only tasted it twice. The Outerlands are denied such luxuries.
And now that I am banished? Such a thing would never be allowed. Not ever.
I quickly turn my face away, but he touches me again. “You need to heal, Cielo. Please. Please let me help you.”
“Can’t,” I sign, my hands trembling. “Not allowed.”
He rubs a hand down his face. “Like…at all. Or from my dick? Because I know there are factories, so…”
I close my eyes. The herbs are working, and the fatigue hitting me is so powerful, it’s worse than the medicine. My breathing evens out, and somewhere off in the distance, I hear Dante give up.
They always do.
It’s for the best.
I do not know how much time passes, but I wake suddenly to a scent that sends a craving straight through me. My eye flutters open, and I sit up, gasping in pain as I look around.
Dante’s there again, and the light in the room has shifted toward evening. He’s staring at me warily, holding something in his hands. A glass bottle.
Clearing his throat, he takes a step forward. “Look, I don’t know what happened to you. Not entirely. I don’t know why you have to refuse me, but I promised Everest I would make you better. So…so I got this for you.”
He closes the distance between himself and the sofa, then drops to his knees beside me and pushes the bottle into my hands. It’s oddly warm.
“Please,” he whispers. “I know this will help.”
The liquid inside is opaque, glistening, tempting. My mouth begins to water, and I know then I’m not strong enough to refuse, even when I should. Opening the top, I’m overwhelmed by the scent, and my tongue flicks out, dipping through the hole of the bottle as I taste it.
It is Elythuun—the blessed sky beyond this life.
I groan and purr at the same time, and lose my ability to stop myself as I hold the bottle and lap it up. Big, lush, rich tonguefuls of cum pour into my mouth, and when the bottle is empty, I lie back and lick the inside until every drop is gone.
Relief hits me in ways I have never known. I feel my skin knitting together, the swelling in my eye reducing, the pain in my broken ribs easing into a faded ache.
My gaze finds Dante still sitting beside me, watching with an expression I cannot read. I feel something like embarrassment mingling with gratitude pulse through me, and I set the bottle aside before tipping my fingers from my chin again.
“You’re welcome.”
I feel tired again. My body has much healing to do, and I slump over, shooting Dante an apologetic look.
“No, don’t,” he murmurs. His hand passes over my forehead, and it may be the best thing I have ever felt. “Rest, okay? I’m going to prepare some of those other herbs, alright?”
I nod.
He stands, then turns back to face me. “Cielo,” he says.
I very much like the way he says my name. I give him a soft hum.
“I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad you’re alive. I’m going to take such good care of you.”
I nod and feel my tongue looser than it has ever been. I test the movement, then open my mouth and manage to say without much trouble at all, “Dahhhntehhhh.”
He flushes. “Yeah, that’s me. Sounds nice when you say it.”
I want to do it again, but I’m too tired. I close my eyes instead and find myself dozing to the human sound of what is meant to be my punishment, but it might actually be the thing that saves me.
Taste, Book Two of Feed and Feast by Cora Rose and E.M. Lindsey coming summer 2026.