Epilogue #2
“Now then,” he murmured against her hair. “About that breakfast.”
“I thought you said I needed food.”
“Food can wait a few minutes.”
He kissed her—soft at first, almost gentle, then deeper as she melted against him. She tasted like the mint leaves she chewed while she worked, and something sweeter beneath, something that was purely her. His beast stirred at the contact, the mating bond between them humming with warmth.
Two months of this, and kissing her still felt like a revelation.
“I thought,” she said against his lips, “you were concerned about my nutritional intake.”
“I’m a complex male. I can be concerned about multiple things.”
“Clearly.”
He trailed kisses down her jaw, across her cheek, along the delicate shell of her ear. She shivered in his arms, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. Pip made a disgusted sound and launched himself from her shoulder to the windowsill, where he pointedly turned his back on them.
“We’re traumatizing your creature,” he observed.
“He’ll survive. He’s very resilient.”
“Mm.” He nipped gently at the sensitive spot below her ear, savoring the small gasp it produced. “So are you.”
“Flatterer.”
“Truth-teller.”
She laughed, but there was a breathless quality to it now.
He recognized the signs—the flush spreading across her cheeks, the way her pupils had dilated, the subtle change in her scent as arousal began building.
Even after two months of learning her body, of discovering every way to bring her pleasure, he found fresh fascination in watching her respond to him.
He was just reaching for the fastenings of her laboratory coat when she pulled back.
“Wait.”
He stilled immediately. “What is it?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She pressed a hand to his chest, holding him at arm’s length—not pushing him away, just... pausing. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Now?”
“Now.” Her voice was firm, but her eyes danced with something he couldn’t quite identify. “Before we get too distracted.”
He released her reluctantly and took a step back, giving her space. His beast grumbled at the interruption, but he pushed its instincts aside. If she needed to talk, they would talk.
“All right. I’m listening.”
She took a deep breath, and some of that dancing light in her eyes shifted into something closer to nervousness. “There’s a new experience I want to try.”
Immediately, every protective instinct in him went on alert.
He’d learned, over the past two months, that her curiosity had no bounds.
Freed from the tower’s restrictions, she wanted to experience everything—which had led to some wonderful moments, like her first taste of ice cream or her delighted discovery of theater performances.
But it had also led to some terrifying ones.
The time she’d wanted to learn to ride and had chosen the most spirited horse in Ember’s stable.
The cliff she’d wanted to climb because the view from the top looked interesting.
The night market she’d wandered into alone because she’d heard rumors of exotic plants being sold there, not understanding that night market was often code for less savory transactions.
Each time, he’d bitten his tongue and let her take the risk, intervening only when absolutely necessary. Her freedom mattered more than his peace of mind. She’d spent twenty-one years having her choices made for her; he refused to become another jailer, no matter how well-intentioned.
But sometimes—sometimes—he understood exactly why ARIS had been so protective.
“What kind of experience?” he asked carefully.
“Nothing dangerous.” She must have seen something in his expression, because she smiled reassuringly. “I promise. No wild horses or suspicious markets.”
“Those were legitimate concerns.”
“The horse was perfectly gentle once I understood her personality. And the night market had the most fascinating specimens—”
“The night market also had three men who tried to follow you home.”
“Who you dealt with very efficiently.” She stepped closer, taking his hands in hers. “But this is different. This isn’t something that could hurt me. It’s just... new.”
“Then tell me.”
She hesitated, and for a moment that nervous light returned to her eyes. Baylin felt his tension ratchet higher. What could make her nervous? What experience could she want that made her hesitate to share it with him?
“You know how I’ve been studying my blood,” she began.
“Yes.”
“Well, part of my father’s research focused on... inheritance. Whether my abilities would pass to any children I might have.” She met his eyes directly. “He concluded that they would. At least partially.”
His heart stuttered.
“He also studied Vultor genetics,” she continued, her voice steady despite the nervousness in her eyes. “From samples he obtained somewhere—I don’t know where. He was interested in how our species might interact at a biological level.”
“Liora—”
She squeezed his hands. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”
His mind raced. He knew where this was going—of course he knew—but the reality of it crashed over him like a wave, leaving him breathless.
“What are you asking me?”
She smiled then, that brilliant smile that had captivated him from the first moment he’d seen her on the tower balcony. “I want to have a baby, Baylin. With you. I want us to create something new together.”
The words hung in the air between them.
A baby.
A child.
His child.
Their child.
He had never allowed himself to think about children.
His life had been too uncertain, too dangerous, too rootless.
A child needed stability, security, a home—all things he’d never been able to provide.
Even now, with the peace they’d built and the protection Ember and Rykan offered, the idea seemed almost too large to comprehend.
But she was looking at him with hope and love and that unfailing trust she gave so freely, and something deep inside him cracked open.
“You’re sure?” His voice came out rough. “This isn’t just another experiment?”
“It’s the most important experiment of my life.
” She released his hands to cup his face, her thumb tracing the scar on his cheek.
“I’ve spent months learning what my blood can do.
Now I want to learn what love can create.
” She paused, vulnerability flickering across her features. “Unless... you don’t want...”
“I want.” The words tore out of him before he could stop them. “Gods, Liora, I want—I’ve wanted—but I never—”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t articulate the years of loneliness, the resignation to a life without this kind of connection, the way he’d buried the desire so deep he’d almost forgotten it existed.
But she understood. She always understood.
“Then let’s try.” She rose on her toes to brush her lips against his. “Let’s see what we can build together.”
He gathered her into his arms, holding her so tightly he worried for a moment he might hurt her. But she just held him back, her heartbeat steady against his chest, her warmth seeping into places he hadn’t known were cold.
“You never do anything by halves, do you?” he managed.
“Where’s the fun in halves?”
A laugh escaped him—surprised, overwhelmed, utterly helpless. “A baby. You want a baby.”
“I want your baby. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Mm. A significant difference. I’ve done extensive research.”
He pulled back to look at her face, searching for any trace of doubt. He found none. Just certainty, and love, and that boundless curiosity that drove her to experience everything the world had to offer.
Including this. Including motherhood. Including building a family with a scarred Vultor warrior who’d never expected to have one.
“It might not work,” he said, forcing himself to be practical.
“I know. But I want to try.” She stroked a hand through his hair. “Don’t you?”
The question hung between them, and he realized that all his careful control, all his restrained protectiveness, all his determination to let her make her own choices—none of it mattered in this moment. She’d asked for something he hadn’t dared dream of, and his answer was never in doubt.
“Yes.” The word came out like a prayer. “Yes, I want to try.”
Her smile blazed across her face.
And then she was kissing him, and he was kissing her back, and the cottage that had become their home suddenly felt like the beginning of something even larger.
Something that might become a family.
Pip made another disgusted sound from the windowsill and pointedly looked away.
Neither of them noticed.