Epilogue
Indi
I’ve been zoning out to the clop-clop of our horses’s hooves. When Briar touches my arm, I gasp and wrench myself away.
We stare at each other before he breaks into a wide smile. “I’m gonna have to ask for my money back,” he says.
I frown at him.
“They said, and I quote, a ‘relaxing, romantic horseback trail.’”
I let out a rueful chuckle and shrug at him, facing forward again. “I love it.”
“You do?”
“It’s perfect, Briar.” I glance at him, looking away before our eyes can meet. “Although I still don’t know how many palms you had to grease to pull this off.”
“What, school?” He snorts. “We’ve both got B-averages. We’ve both just gone through a traumatic?—”
He cuts off, and when he speaks again, there’s no mirth left in his words. “You needed a break.”
“So did you.”
“Yeah, I’m selfish like that, my little virgin.”
I snort this time, and shake my head. “Never grows old, does it?”
He leans over and pokes a finger in my side, making me twist over in my saddle and my horse take a side step as if she thinks she’s next.
“Stop it,” I snap, scowling at him.
“Only if you promise not to be upset.”
My scowl turns into a frown. “Why would I be?—?”
His expression turns serious. “Because I lied to you.”
Something wriggles around in my guts, and I wonder briefly if the maggots are back. But I shove that thought away before it can latch on.
“About what?” I say, trying to keep my voice airy.
“I don’t like you, Indi.”
Luckily, my mare is well trained. Even when I stiffen, she just carries on plodding down the forest path at the same pace as before. I, however, almost don’t duck in time to avoid being swept away by a low-hanging branch.
“Um…okay,” I say, forcing a swallow. “And you had to tell me this during a romantic horse ride through the forest?”
“I couldn’t keep living a lie,” he says.
If his tone weren’t so goddamn serious, I’d be convinced this was all part of a foolishly elaborate prank at my expense. He’s never outgrown those, not in the four months we’ve been dating. Maybe he never will.
“Well, I’m glad it’s all out in the open,” I say. “So, should we turn around, or do you still want to have that picnic you promised me?”
“Oh, we’re having the picnic,” he says, sounding almost grumpy. “But don’t think I’m gonna enjoy it.”
“Pity,” I say, lifting my chin. “I was really looking forward to your charming banter while we snacked on some pretzels and warm champagne.”
He chuckles low in his throat. “You thought there’d be champagne?”
“There’d better be fucking champagne.” I glare at him until he looks at me, and then I intensify it even more. “Else I’m not taking another step.”
I reign in my mare, and Briar’s gelding plods on a few steps before he brings him to a stop. He looks over his shoulder, clearly exasperated with me. “Fine, there’s champagne. But it’s definitely warm, and possibly even flat by now.”
“I said we could trot.” I push my knees into my mare’s ribs, and she starts forward. “But nooooo. Briar’s a little chicken shit bitch, isn’t he?”
“You’re gonna pay for that,” he murmurs quietly, but also just loud enough for me to hear.
I smirk to myself, shaking my head. We’ve been riding through this gorgeous forest just south of the Devil’s Spine for the last three hours and it truly has been everything Briar said it would be. I’m almost starting to feel like myself again, and that’s saying a lot. These past few months have been difficult. Sleeping pills helped, as did the anti-anxiety medication Briar’s doctor gave me for the panic attacks I kept having. But there was always that feeling lurking deep inside me, like there was something bad waiting just around the corner. That it would pounce as soon as I let my guard down.
Briar seems to be doing fine, but I can never tell with him. I mean, we’re not living together or anything, so I don’t know what he’s like the times I’m not with him. He’s always been one to put on a brave face, so he could be hiding a ton of pain about losing his friend.
And not just a friend. A half-brother. A fact I’m still trying to wrap my head around.
One of many, in fact.
A lot of shit came to light when the police started their investigation. Brandon Baker, Marcus’s father, was arrested for multiple jewelry heists and as an accessory to murder. They’re also opening a case against him for the possible homicide of Natalie Briar after Brandon started spouting some shit about being glad that he’d dealt with that whoring bitch.
Briar told me it was an accident, and that’s what everyone thought. But one of the witness statements mentioned that Natalie’s brake lights came on long before she went off the side of the road.
Her car, however, never slowed down.
The wreckage of her vehicle has long since been harvested for scrap metal, but I guess everyone would like to heap as many charges on Brandon’s head as judicially possible to make sure the creep never gets out of jail.
One case reopened, another case closed.
And boy, were the police in Lakeview only too happy to archive my mother’s homicide file. After the insurance company began pressuring them to take another look at the evidence, an internal investigation revealed that several of the officers working the case had been paid off to screw up the case.
All by Marcus’s dad, of course.
Lured with some time knocked off his sentence, Brandon gave a full confession about how he’d forced his son to break into people’s homes and steal the jewelry Briar’s father had made for them.
Briar told me about the beatings Marcus got. Seems they were very real indeed. Marcus had hospital files thick as an encyclopedia with multiple instances of domestic abuse injuries.
He was just as good as Briar at keeping up appearances. Plus, it seemed he could endure a shit load more pain when he smoked that weed vape of his. Healed faster, too.
With such an extensive history of abuse, I almost feel sorry for Marcus.
Then I remember what it felt like when he bit my breast, and the feeling goes away.
If Marcus had lived, he would have been charged with arson, rape, and first-degree murder. They matched his DNA to hair, skin, and semen samples found on my mother’s body.
I feel less sorry for him every day.
“Hungry?”
I snap out of the past and come back to the present feeling a little glum for all my macabre introspection.
Until I see the suggestion of a cabin up ahead.
“Is that…?”
“I don’t like picnics,” Briar announces like he’s in a confessional booth at mass.
I spur my mare into a trot, too eager to see what’s ahead to be bothered if Briar’s keeping up. As soon as her hooves plod on flagstones, I slide off my mare and absently loop her reign around a nearby tree branch.
This is exactly how I always pictured the grandmother’s cabin in Red Riding Hood. From the log walls to the smoke curling from the chimney.
“It’s gorgeous,” I breathe, hurrying to the front door.
It opens at a push from my fingers, and swings inward without a sound.
I expected a moodily lit interior, but it’s bright as noon inside here. Downlights gleam from their studs in a pine ceiling, and peek out from behind furniture.
There’s a massive three-seater sofa in the middle of the living area, facing a lit fireplace that crackles as the flames dance for me.
My riding boots echo on wooden floorboards when I move into the space. It’s all one open-plan layout, except for a small room tucked behind the kitchen’s oven range and backsplash.
It has to be a bathroom, because the west side of the cabin is dominated by a king-sized bed straight out of a fairytale with its elaborately carved mahogany footboard and rich, velvet headboard.
There are rose petals on the sheets. Champagne in a bucket on the nightstand. The entire space is scented with roses and wood smoke.
Hands slither around my waist and draw me back against Briar’s warm body.
“Surprise,” he murmurs into my ear.
“My fuck,” I say, and then instantly regret how my words seem to defile this sanctum.
“There’ll be enough time for that later,” Briar says. “But first…” He releases me, slips past, and heads toward the fire.
I was expecting a campsite, not a fucking cabin. I had a bag packed and everything.
But this?
“Hang on,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “You just told me you didn’t like me. Why’d you go to all this trouble, then?”
“I thought it would lessen the sting, my little virgin.”
My cheeks are suddenly suffused with heat.
Briar turns to look at me, a cheeky smile tugging at his wide mouth.
“Briar…” I want to tell him I’m not ready, because, fuck, that’s exactly what it feels like.
I know he’s been patient. I know I’ve been holding back. But he promised me he would wait.
He promised .
I open my mouth, but before I can say a word, he lifts a finger to his lips.
“I want to show you something,” he says.
My eyebrow quirks up. “What is it?”
He cocks his head at me. “If I told you, it would ruin the surprise.”
I inhale a deep, grounding breath, squeezing my arms around me as I give this gorgeous cabin another once-over.
I could live here. I don’t give a fuck about TV or wi-fi, or anything else.
I could live here.
But only if Briar was going to live with me.
I look at the floor, closing my eyes as I chastise myself for my own naivety.
This is no place to live. We’re both going to university next year. Briar to become a psychologist, me to study microbiology. Or history. Or art. We can maybe make it out here once a quarter, but?—
“Open your eyes.”
They fly open at his command, and then narrow warily.
Nothing’s different. Except…
“What’s behind your back?”
He smirks at me. “I meant what I said.”
“About what?”
“I don’t like you anymore, Indigo Virgo.”
I bristle at my full name, but bear it out of sheer curiosity. “Go on…”
Briar’s smirk fades, and is replaced with a deadly serious expression.
I know this is all some ruse, but that doesn’t stop the flutters blooming in my stomach.
Flutters. Because it’s not worms burrowing around down there anymore.
It’s butterflies.
Briar drops to one knee, bringing out a deep-blue velvet box and flipping it open all in one smooth motion.
My hands are at my throat, and I don’t remember how they got there. “Did you practice that or something?” I ask weakly.
“Too many times to count.” He clears his throat, and his eyes dart to the box.
Which I haven’t even looked at. I’ve been transfixed on his eyes this entire time. But when I look down, my legs cave in, and I sink to the floor in front of him.
“Briar…”
“I don’t like you anymore, Indi. Maybe I never did. I fucking love you.” He moves the box closer to me, as if I’m not admiring the diamond-encrusted sapphire ring he’s holding out for me quite enough for his tastes. “You’d better marry me, or I’ll make your life a living hell.”
I reach for the ring, but he snaps the box closed before I can take it. My eyes fly up to his, and I scowl deeply at him. “What the fuck?” I snap.
“You don’t get the ring until you say yes.”
“Well let me see how it looks first.”
“You’re shitting me,” he says through a laugh. “This is all hinging off whether the ring looks good on your finger?”
I shrug, and waggle my left hand in his face. “And if it fits. If it doesn’t fit…”
He glares at me, and then flips open the box again. “How do you always manage to make me so fucking mad?”
He takes out the ring, hesitates, and then slides it onto my finger.
Oh my fuck. It’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. I sniff, twist my hand around a bit, and go to take it off.
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “This isn’t gonna cut it.”
Briar lets out a deep-throated growl. Before I have time to squeal, he scoops me into his arms and charges with me into the bedroom. I bounce hard on the bed, sending rose petals fluttering into the air beside me.
I grab the ring and try to yank it off, but Briar clambers onto the bed and pins me down.
“You’ll wear the fucking ring,” he says, voice so low it’s more of a growl than actual words. “And you’ll fucking like it.”
“Bastard,” I murmur, narrowing my eyes. “Think you can buy my love?”
“I don’t need to buy anything.” He shoves a hand between my legs and squeezes me through my riding slacks. “I already own you.”
I try to laugh him off, but then his mouth is against mine, bruising my lips, his tongue forcing its way inside.
I melt into the bed, every shred of resistance fading. Briar grasps my breasts, squeezes me roughly through my pants, and then sits up and strips off his shirt.
My lips part as I run my hands over his chiseled chest, fingers lingering on some of his scars.
Football injuries, he tells me. Some, rough nights out partying.
I couldn’t care if he got them cage fighting in a back alley. He’s broken, this brutal prince of mine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
He swats away my touch, and then yanks open the blouse I am wearing. Buttons ping against the wall and clatter to the floor. I gasp, shocked at his vehemence, but then his lips are on my breastbone, working their way down my belly.
My pants come off next, tossed God knows where. My bra, my panties. Until I’m naked and bare beneath him, nothing but a few crushed rose petals for modesty.
He sinks his fingers into my thighs and wrenches open my legs. I moan, arching my back as he stares hungrily down at my pussy.
“You have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?” he says, his eyes slowly tracing their way up my body. I shiver, and instinctively cover my breasts from his ravenous eyes.
Briar grabs my hands, forcing them back onto the bed. He shifts his grip, using only a single hand to keep me down, and tugs off his pants with the other.
A second later, his hard cock touches the inside of my thigh.
I shift up the bed, trying to close my legs. But Briar’s between them now, and I know he won’t let me say no again.
He dips his hips down and forward, and I moan when the crown of his dick touches my already soaking folds.
“Are you going to scream for me when I break you?” he murmurs, putting his lips right by my ear.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, twisting my hips. “You really think you’re that big?”
“I know I’m that big.” His mouth closes on the side of my neck and works its way down to my collar bone, then my nipple. He rolls it between his teeth until it’s a tight bud, and then sucks it as he massages it with his tongue.
God, I feel ready to come and he hasn’t even touched my clit yet.
I arch my back, and he takes more of my breast into his mouth. He tightens his grip around my wrists as if reminding me that I don’t have a choice in the matter, and then snakes his hand down my tummy.
He taps his fingers over my clit, and I come out of my delicious haze with a yelp.
“Fuck, Briar.”
“In a minute, my little virgin.” His lips brush mine, and I let out a low moan as he rakes his fingers through my folds. “Gotta make sure you’re ready first.”
I’m not. I can’t be. I don’t know why, but I’m terrified. I shouldn’t be—it’s not that big of a deal…except it is.
It is.
I’ve always wanted my first time to be perfect. Special. Roses and fucking champagne.
I have all that and more.
So why the fuck am I still hesitating?
“Mmm,” Briar says, his lips vibrating against mine. “A little wet, but not nearly enough.”
Then he’s gone. His warmth, the solidity of his body, his whispered promises. Everything.
I barely have time to open my eyes before his mouth closes over my clit.
I groan deep in my throat, my hips arching involuntarily off the bed. Briar pushes me down with his hand on my stomach, and works my clit with his tongue like he’s pissed off at it.
Ecstasy washes over me. I lose myself in space and time and float in an endless sea of pleasure.
I’m dimly aware that I have Briar’s hair in a death grip, but I don’t give a fuck if I pull out every strand by the root.
He makes me come way before I’m ready, and then drinks me down like a shot of tequila.
I’m still shuddering in the aftershock of my orgasm when he rests his entire weight on me and puts his mouth by my ear.
“Now you’re wet enough,” he murmurs.
Fingers sink into my pussy, stroke my folds, tweak my clit. I barely have enough faculties to moan in protest, although trust me: I do try.
“I love you, my little virgin,” Briar says. “But I don’t want to keep calling you that.”
He shifts around between my legs, and then his fingertips are teasing open the folds covering my entrance. The smooth crown of his cock pushes against me.
I stiffen, whimper, try to back away up the bed. “I can’t,” I blurt out.
There are tears in my eyes, and I don’t know how they got there. The room’s starting to spin, my skin crawling like it wants to tear off of my flesh. “Briar, please, I can’t?—”
“It’s me, Indi,” he murmurs. He strokes the side of my face. “Look at me, Angel.”
I force my eyes open, blinking through a stream of hot tears.
“Do you see me?” he asks.
I nod, and squeeze a few more traitorous tears from my eyes.
“You feel me?” he says as he gently strokes my pussy with the tip of his cock.
I nod again, and bite back a sob.
“I love you, Indi. I’ll never hurt you. Hear me?”
I nod again. “I l-love you too,” I manage, although my words are so stuttered I don’t know if Briar hears a thing.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Say it again.”
“I love you.” This time the words are clear.
“Again.”
“I love you, Briar.”
“Then let me make you mine,” he whispers. He rubs his cock against me, coaxing me. “Let me in.”
I let out a long sigh. Relax my thighs,
“Deep breath, Angel,” he says. “One deep breath, and it’ll all be over.”
I inhale.
His cock forces its way past my entrance. My pussy resists, clamping around him like a vice. I burn and itch as slices of pain shoot through me.
I whimper, but then Briar kisses away the pain.
I writhe, but he just keeps going deeper.
“Deep breath.”
And I realize I’m still inhaling. My head feels too light, the bed a cloud in the midnight sky.
And then he’s inside me, impossibly deep, stretching me impossibly wide. I whimper again, and he eats the sound with hungry lips.
“Christ, you feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking hot.”
He moves, slowly as first, and then a little bit faster.
Slow, deep pleasure overwhelms those pinpricks of pain inside me. He draws back, and then pushes inside me, so slow I can feel every inch of his cock the deeper he goes.
I moan, my back arching, and grab hold of his shoulders.
“Fuck, you’re everything I ever thought you’d be,” he says. He fills me up entirely, and then stays lodged deep inside me as he rains kisses over my face. “Say I can fuck you now,” he mutters, nipping at my earlobes.
“Wh-what?” I manage breathlessly. “But you’re already?—”
He cuts me off with a rude laugh. “Oh, Angel, I haven’t even started.”
My core constricts around him at those words.
“Yes,” I whisper. My eyes open, fluttering as he slowly draws out of me again. “Fuck me.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He sits up, grabs my thighs, and forces my legs wide apart. Then he grabs his cock in a hand, dips his hips, and rams into me.
I hiss with pain, mewl in pleasure. His eyes dart up to my face, then down to my pussy.
I can’t imagine what it looks like. To me, all I see is his beautiful body tensing as he starts thrusting into me.
There’s still pain, right till the end. But I barely notice it over the bliss.
He pulls out of me before he comes, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m up on my elbows with my mouth open wide, begging to taste him.
He makes the most wicked sound, like I’m tearing apart his fucking soul, and forces his cock between my lips. I feel him tense, shiver, pulse on my tongue, and then a flood of tangy cum fills my mouth. It’s horrible, but it’s still better than the taste of blood.
Briar grabs the back of my head, forcing his dick so far back I think I’m going to hurl. But I don’t. I suck at him and milk him with my tongue, hoping to make him feel a sliver of the pleasure he’s shown me.
He pushes me away, and covers me with his heavy body again. I swallow hard, trying not to retch at the taste, and then his lips are on mine.
I don’t know how long we lie there for, making out like kids on our first date, but by the time we stop, Briar’s cock is jutting into my belly again.
He pushes up onto his elbows, cups his hands on my face, and stares deep into my eyes.
“So?” he says, a light laugh in his voice.
“So, that hurt. A lot.”
He shakes his head. “Not that.”
“Then what?” I frown at him, feeling like I’ve just come out of a haze.
“Indi Virgo,” he growls. “Will you fucking marry me or not?”
I laugh, and clap my hands over my mouth. “Oh, that.”
He scowls at me, and I run my hands down his face, smiling up at him. “Only if you promise to fuck me like that every day for the rest of my life.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Only once a day?”
“Yes.”
“But what if I want to fuck you in the morning and the evening?”
I shrug “Then we’ll just have to work something out.”
He kisses me again, and this time he moves until he’s lying on his side. Lifting my leg, he pushes against me until I force myself to unclench.
I moan when he’s inside me again.
Then I laugh, but as quietly as I can.
He still hears me, and stops with his dick all the way inside me. “What’s so funny, Angel?”
“Nothing,” I murmur. I reach down and run my fingers around my entrance where he’s stretching me wide as I can go. “Just thinking about what you said that day in Veroza’s class.”
“Really?” he mutters. “Now?”
“Yeah,” I say, twisting so I can look at him over my shoulder. “Guess you were right, Prince Briar.”
He pulls out of me, and then eases his way back in. I shudder at the sensation, and moan when he starts massaging my clit.
“I always am.” He gives me a suspicious look. “Which specific time are you referring to, though?”
I laugh and shake my head at him. “ Everyone bows to the prince.”
The End