Epilogue
Two years later
Emilia
I run my fingers along the spines of my newest acquisitions, leather-bound first editions Clark surprised me with last week, still unable to believe this is my life now. Two years ago, I was shelving discount paperbacks at the local library, wearing cardigans two sizes too big and keeping my head down. Now I preside over a private collection that would make any university librarian weep with envy, all housed in the custom library Clark built for me in our sprawling home. The irony isn't lost on me—that being kidnapped by a dangerous man has given me more freedom than I ever had before.
He takes me to visit my mom and sister, and they both love him, so I didn’t have to abandon my family to be with him. And he helps them financially. They’re better off than they’ve ever been. He makes sure my mom gets the best care possible.
Yes, my husband is amazing.
Sunlight streams through the tall windows, warming the polished hardwood floors where I pad barefoot between the shelves. This room is my sanctuary, my kingdom—though everything here, including me, belongs to Clark. He made that clear from the beginning. What's mine is mine, and you're mine, so everything is yours. His particular brand of logic, delivered with that slight curve of his lips that still makes my heart skip.
I pause at the window, looking out over the grounds of our estate. Another surprise—that Clark's business dealings were lucrative enough to provide this level of luxury. The compound is still operational, still the headquarters of the Outlaw MC, but we live separately now, in this secluded mansion nestled against the mountains. Close enough for Clark to maintain control, far enough to give us privacy. Protected. Isolated. Perfect.
My fingers drift to the delicate gold chain around my neck—not the childhood book pendant I wore when we met, but something new. A wolf, cast in gold, with tiny diamond eyes. His mark, his claim, always against my skin. I never take it off.
I hear the distinctive rumble of his motorcycle before I see him, the sound triggering an instant reaction—my pulse quickening, warmth pooling low in my belly. Two years, and my body still responds to him like it's the first time. I move toward the front of the house, anticipation building with each step.
The door opens before I reach it, and there he is—my captor, my protector, my lover. My everything. Clark fills the doorway, larger than life in his leather jacket, dark hair slightly windblown, those ice-blue eyes finding me immediately. The coldness that used to make me shiver is gone, replaced by a heat that's only for me.
"There she is," he says, voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "My beautiful girl."
I go to him without hesitation, without thought—like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole. His arms wrap around me, lifting me off my feet, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that hasn't diminished with time or familiarity.
I melt against him, opening for him, surrendering as I always do. His kiss is possessive, devouring, a reminder that no matter how gentle he can be, there's always danger beneath the surface. It's that danger, that edge, that still thrills me after all this time.
When he finally sets me down, I'm breathless, dizzy with want. "I missed you," I murmur against his jaw, nuzzling the slight stubble there.
"Three hours," he says, amusement coloring his voice. "I was gone three hours."
"Too long," I reply, not caring how needy I sound. We've moved beyond pretense, beyond games. I need him like air, like water, like the books that surround us. And he needs me just as desperately.
He brushes my hair back from my face, his touch gentler than most would believe possible for hands that have dealt so much violence. "Insatiable," he says, but the pride in his voice is unmistakable. He loves that I want him, that I crave him. That I'm his in every way.
"You made me this way," I remind him, pressing closer, feeling the hard length of him against my stomach. "Corrupted me completely."
His laugh is low, warm, secret. "Best thing I ever did."
He leads me further into the house, toward our bedroom, but pauses in the living room. "I brought you something."
My heart lifts. Another book. Clark's gifts are legendary among the crew—rare volumes hunted down and acquired by whatever means necessary, legal or otherwise. He enjoys spoiling me this way, takes pleasure in my excitement over first editions and signed copies.
But instead of a book, he presents me with a small velvet box. My breath catches. Clark has given me jewelry before—the wolf pendant, diamond earrings, a bracelet that cost more than my mother's house—but there's something different in his expression now. Something I've never seen before.
"Open it," he urges, an unusual note of uncertainty in his voice.
Inside is a ring—a stunning emerald surrounded by diamonds, set in platinum. It's breathtaking, but confusing. We're already together in every way that matters. We live as husband and wife, though without the legal documentation that would put me on the radar of authorities still looking for the missing librarian from two years ago.
"It's beautiful," I say, looking up at him questioningly. "But why?—"
"I want more," he interrupts, taking the ring and sliding it onto my finger. It fits perfectly, of course. Clark leaves nothing to chance. "I want everything, Emilia."
There's an intensity to him today, a focused purpose that makes me shiver. "You already have everything," I remind him. "You have me."
"Not everything." His hands frame my face, those blue eyes burning into mine. "I want to see you with our child in your arms. I want to see you round with my baby, growing inside you. I want that, Emilia. I want that with you."
The words send a shock through me, a thrill I wasn't expecting. We've never discussed children, never talked about a family beyond the two of us. But the image his words create—me, pregnant with Clark's child—ignites something primal inside me. Something that recognizes the rightness of it.
"A baby?" I whisper, my hand drifting unconsciously to my flat stomach.
He nods, watching me closely, gauging my reaction. "I've been trying," he admits, a hint of frustration in his voice. "For months now."
Understanding dawns. The increased frequency of our lovemaking—even more intense than before. The way he's been finishing inside me every time, grip tightening as he comes, as if he could will his seed to take root. His hovering attention to my health, my diet, my cycle.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, not angry, just curious.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "I wanted to surprise you. Thought I'd just get you pregnant and present you with the fact." He shrugs, a gesture so unlike his usual confidence. "But it's not happening, and I realized—maybe you need to want it too. Maybe we both need to be trying."
The vulnerability in his admission touches me deeply. Clark Bishop, the Wolf, feared leader of the Outlaw MC, is standing before me with uncertainty in his eyes, asking if I want to bear his child.
"Yes," I say without hesitation, the desire crystallizing within me as soon as I acknowledge it. "Yes, I want that. I want your baby."
The relief and joy that crosses his face is beautiful to behold. He lifts me again, spinning me in a circle that makes me laugh with delight. When he sets me down, his expression has changed—hunger replacing relief, determination replacing uncertainty.
"Then let's not waste any more time," he growls, lifting me into his arms and carrying me to our bedroom.
He lays me on our bed—a massive four-poster where we've spent countless hours exploring each other's bodies, learning each other's desires. Where I've surrendered to him over and over, finding freedom in my submission, in his possession.
His hands are gentle but urgent as he undresses me, his eyes tracking each inch of skin revealed with possessive heat. "So beautiful," he murmurs, reverence in his voice. "And all mine."
"All yours," I agree, helping him remove his own clothes, eager to feel his skin against mine. "Always yours, Clark."
When we're both naked, he doesn't immediately cover me as he usually would. Instead, he kneels between my legs, hands caressing my stomach, my hips, my breasts.
"You'll look so beautiful," he says, voice thick with emotion. "Swollen with my child. Everyone will know just by looking at you—that you belong to me, that I've claimed you in the most fundamental way."
His possessiveness still thrills me, still makes heat pool between my thighs. I reach for him, needing him closer, needing him inside me. "Show me," I whisper. "Show me how much you want it."
Something flashes in his eyes—that dangerous edge that never fully disappears, that hint of the predator that lurks beneath his control. "I'll give you everything," he promises, lowering himself over me. "Everything I am, everything I have. It's all yours, Emilia. Just like you're mine."
When he enters me, it feels different somehow—more meaningful, more purposeful. We're not just seeking pleasure now. We're creating something together, something that will bind us even more permanently than the past two years have done.
Clark moves with deliberate thoroughness, hitting places inside me that make me gasp and arch against him. His eyes never leave mine, connection deeper than physical, his hands holding me exactly where he wants me.
"Say it," he demands, voice strained as he drives deeper. "Tell me what you want."
"You," I gasp, the word breaking as he hits a spot that sends sparks shooting through me. "Your baby. Our family. Everything, Clark. I want everything with you."
My admission drives him wild, his control slipping as his thrusts become harder, more desperate. "You'll have it," he promises, one hand sliding between us to circle the bundle of nerves that will send me over the edge. "All of it. I'll give you the world, Emilia. I'll fill this house with books. I'll fill you with my children. Whatever you want, it's yours."
The dual assault—his words and his touch—pushes me toward climax. My nails dig into his back, marking him as he's marked me so many times. "Just you," I manage, feeling the pressure building, the pleasure spiraling higher. "I just want you."
"You have me," he growls, his rhythm faltering as he nears his own release. "Forever. Now come for me, beautiful. Let me feel you."
I shatter at his command, pleasure washing over me in waves that leave me gasping, clinging to him like he's my only anchor in a storm. He follows me over, burying himself deep inside me with a groan that sounds like it's torn from his soul, his release hot and powerful.
Afterward, he doesn't immediately withdraw as he sometimes does. Instead, he stays inside me, rolling us so I'm draped across his chest, our bodies still joined. His hands stroke my back, my hair, touch reverent and possessive all at once.
"I never thought I'd have this," he admits quietly, the confession unusual for him. "Never thought I'd want it. A home. A family. You."
I lift my head, studying the face I've come to love so deeply. The hardness is still there, the danger, the control. But there's softness too, in the way he looks at me, in the gentle stroke of his fingers against my skin.
"Are you happy?" I ask, suddenly needing to know. "With this life? With me?"
His eyes darken, his grip tightening slightly. "Happy doesn't begin to cover it, Emilia. What I feel for you—" He stops, searching for words, an unusual struggle for someone usually so decisive. "It's everything. You're everything."
I smile, settling back against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. "Good. Because you're stuck with me now. Forever."
I feel his chuckle rumble through his chest. "That was always the plan, little librarian. From the moment I saw you in that alley, you were mine. You just didn't know it yet."
He's right. From that first terrifying encounter, through the fear and confusion, the desire and surrender, to this moment of perfect contentment—I've been his. And he's been mine, though it took both of us time to realize it.
Our beginning was unconventional, dangerous, maybe even wrong by normal standards. But what we've built from it—this life, this love, this future—feels more right than anything I've ever known.
As Clark's arms tighten around me, as his breathing evens out into sleep, I find myself hoping his wish comes true. That I'm already carrying his child, that our family is already beginning. That the love we've found in the most unlikely circumstances will multiply, expand, grow into something even more beautiful than what we already share.
Because with Clark, I've found my forever. And the future we'll build together will be nothing short of explosive.
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