Epilogue
I t only took her about three months, but Clara was finally able to hold a piece of paper without thinking the thing would bite her or bring the untimely downfall of her monarchy.
Turned out, what she currently held in her hands would bring the exact opposite to her people: a gigantic cash fall.
“This is the fourth contract with human business owners this month. If this keeps up, we’ll be able to expand our holdings into the natural reserves north of Montreal. I know many of the lycans have wanted more secure land for their second homes, and this lumber contract with those new developers will ensure that.”
Bronze lifted his bare arms high and swung his carbon-fiber ax into the tree stump he’d been hacking away at. The wood promptly fell to pieces beneath his strength.
Much like she had a habit of doing, but she’d never admit it to him lest he keep her in their bed for weeks and never get anything done.
“It seems those mortals have the right of it, too,” he said, tossing the hunks of wood into the back of a pull cart and grabbing his discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. “Everyone else is building out those huge multifamily townhome monstrosities that nobody wants. These guys are at least building actual single-family homes with the whole backyard and double-wide driveway large enough for a basketball hoop and shit. They’d be fools not to sign with you, especially given our access to top-quality lumber.” Then he walked over to her and gave her the same two kisses he always did when he got that dreamy-eyed look that told her he was proud of her.
One on her mouth and one on the side of her bald scalp.
Well, technically, it was an undercut, according to Bronze.
Clara touched the area on her head where he’d kissed her and dragged her fingers through the short fall of hair that began an inch or so above her ear and swooped across the rest of her head before falling at her chin. The idea for the style had come to her after the heat of the summer made head wraps unbearable. Wending her way in and out of Bronze’s world, she’d seen females with all sorts of hairstyles. Some styled short in a pixie fashion, and, like hers, buzzed on the sides, except still worn long and wavy.
There was freedom in the way human women owned their styles, and in many ways, Clara wanted to immortalize her own freedom. So, she kept her hair trimmed close to her scalp, where it had been shorn during the games in testament to her reclamation of power and how she would always use it in defense of her people.
Plus, she kind of adored the feel of Bronze’s goatee brushing along her scalp, and as it seemed a favorite site for him to adore, she saw no reason to change it.
The expansion of business for her people had been another feat that had not only thrilled her heart but challenged her mind and business acumen for the first time in her life. With Bronze’s help and the guidance of Pascal and her other advisors, she’d been able to establish safe and secure ways for the lycans to not only engage with human businesses but aggressively pursue them.
Turned out, under Bronze’s guidance, trade industries, architecture, agriculture, and tourism had been the largest boons her people had ever seen. With skills honed over centuries that the humans couldn’t manage without expensive schooling and apprenticeships, the lycans had been able to compete and advance in arenas her father had long shunned for being too lowborn: carpentry, crafts, construction, lumber. As the queen’s consort, Bronze had facilitated all the contracts, inspecting the working environments to ensure lycan compatibility with minimal long-term exposure to metal and electronics. Sure, computer and general office jobs were largely out of the question for her people, but they had no problem with that.
Especially when word had gotten around over the past three months about the quality of their products and services across the various companies the monarchy and many of the lycans now controlled and operated.
It was a mighty cash fall, indeed.
“Have you thought about him at all?” Bronze jumped up onto the back of the cart and drew her close to him, wrapping the delicious weight of his arms around her. “Your father?”
A heavy sigh threatened to drag her shoulders down, but Bronze’s support and the earthy comfort of his skin buoyed her. It had been a long time since they’d spoken of her decision regarding her father’s fate, but the more she aired it out, the less it weighed on her.
“I’ve thought about him more than he deserves, quite honestly. But it’s getting easier. Every time I encounter one of his previous paradigms throughout the kingdom and alter it in some way, I wipe a bit more of him out of existence, and that’s a great relief. Sometimes I wonder whether I made the right choice in exiling him to the western lycan territories instead of executing him outright, but then I remember the shock on his face when I declared his fate in front of his former advisors and guards and how rewarding the satisfaction was, as was expunging the first of his many corrupt edicts: no more executions.”
“Poetic justice.”
“I’ll just go with justice for now. You’re the one with all the flowery words.”
“Damn right,” he said, squeezing her tighter. “And I say what you did to that piece of shit was pure fucking poetry.”
Her father hadn’t been the only one in the stronghold who’d been stunned when she gave the order not to kill him for the witnessed attempt on her life. Oh, she’d been more than tempted to. Had almost done it, even. But every time she looked in the mirror, she couldn’t stand the idea of a murderer looking back at her. That was what she would have become if she’d had him executed. A monarch no better than her father.
Besides, death was a coward’s way out. If she truly wanted him to know the extent of the vengeance she wrought, what better way than to build up the monarchy according to her vision, instill the love of her people into every decision she made, and grow their commerce by fiftyfold, all while carving him out of the bloodline and banishing him to the very people who’d lost their beloved lycan leader to the king’s own games?
The whole construct of capital punishment hadn’t just needed an overhaul but a female’s touch, as Bronze loved to point out to her.
She couldn’t say she entirely disagreed.
Clara shifted in his arms and rested her chin on his chest, giving into her wolf’s very insistent urge to rub up against him. “Let’s not discuss him. He’s not worth it. I’d rather focus on happier things. Speaking of which, will all of your brothers and their mates be joining us for dinner tonight?”
“Are you kidding me? They wouldn’t miss it. Eun Hee is, and I say this with all the respect I have for my beloved queen, the single best hire you’ve asked for my input on. The female is a beast in the kitchen, and Iron’s already looking forward to the lycan’s japchae. It’s those glassy noodles, man. Who knew they were made from sweet potato starch?”
“She is quite magical,” Clara agreed but stumbled a beat before pressing him further about what she knew still weighed heavily on him. “Will Rhode be there this time?”
Bronze sighed deeply. “I don’t think so.”
“But he assured you he wasn’t upset about the relic’s power being spent.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a spy. It kind of goes without saying that deception is part of his game.”
“Your brother would lie to you?”
Bronze twisted his mouth with careful consideration. “I think he’s been through things none of us know about, and he may never reveal them to us. All we can do is be there for him and leave the door open for whenever he decides to walk through it.”
“You truly are a magnificent male, Bronze,” she said as she rose up to kiss him. “And to think I almost closed the door on you entirely.”
“Nah. I would have muscled my way through it eventually.”
“Oh yeah?” The corner of her brow hitched in a mock challenge. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because I’ve got stamina, princess.” Dark promise flared brightly in his citrine eyes, and her stomach tumbled beneath the force of his words. “That and a shitload of motivation. And if it takes another eternity of swearing however many oaths I need to in order to prove how much I love you, well, I’ve got nothing but time.”
As Bronze’s mouth peppered her neck with sweet, tantalizing kisses, Clara smiled and sank into his embrace. An embrace that she had finally come to know and adore and would do so thoroughly for the rest of her days.
Life was a game, after all, and she had the best partner to play with.
The silence in the den’s great hall was oppressive in its weight. Tall granite walls long ago carved into caverns were their own form of sentinels. Ironic, really, especially when Rhode was the only one left behind while the rest of the angels and their mates had gone to the lycan lands for dinner.
Even in solitude, in a place that had become as true of a home as he’d ever had, he couldn’t escape his stone jailors.
Rhode leaned on his bo staff and covered his eyes against the shame that always flooded his system whenever his mind wandered to the abyss of all he’d lost. It had become a private collection of sorts, a book of memories one only took out when they wanted the reminders of how far they’ve fallen and had no interest in the ropes dangling around them, offering a way out.
His anger did not lie with Bronze or any of his brothers. After all, they had rescued him from Cyro’s domain. Without their aid, well, he didn’t want to think about what his existence would look like. There were rare lucid moments when he imagined that, had he not been saved, his life couldn’t possibly have been worse than what he’d already endured.
Then again, he knew firsthand just how imaginative Cyro could be.
Rhode shook his head, banishing the thoughts away as was his practice, and calmed his breathing by choosing an object in the room to center himself around.
Big mistake. Huge. Because there wasn’t a single item in the space that didn’t remind him of his lesser seraphim status among a mansion of sentinels. The tapestries on the walls depicting images of mortal history he’d not seen, the small practice area’s array of weapons he’d no experience with, even the modern machinery in the kitchen, none of which he found intuitive.
He had been a spy. A commander of a powerful legion of seraphim.
But never had he been a sentinel, no matter how thoroughly they’d welcomed him into their home and their hearts.
Rhode’s heart clenched tighter at the distinction, at how much he’d lost and how far he had yet to go. Entire civilizations had passed him by. People. Languages. Species. All while he’d been rotting away as Cyro’s captive, a plaything to the demon charmers and their toxic tortures and experiments.
The relic could have changed all of that, and in the quiet of the den, with all the sentinels enjoying one another’s company at the lycan stronghold, Rhode allowed himself to sink into the remorse of yet another thing lost.
Lost to him but not entirely gone.
He lifted his head and let the conviction of the mountain infuse his emotions, fueling the intrepid rage that he only ever let simmer below the surface. None would be prepared for the danger should he finally let it burst free.
He loved the sentinels. He truly did, with all his being. They were as much brothers to him as any there were. But he was not a sentinel. Hell, he was barely an angel after what had been done to him.
But all that would soon change. Soon, he would have his vengeance, and absolutely nothing would withstand the power he’d bring down on the charmers when he found them.
“I will not stray,” he whispered into the empty cavern of the great mountain.
There was still another half of the relic, and if Cyro hadn’t used up its magic already, then Rhode still had a token to obtain. One final journey to ease his soul’s pain.
There was no going back for him. Nothing would stand in his way of exacting his revenge and bringing down the ruler of the demon charmers once and for all. Not his brothers. Not his powers.
And especially not a woman.
Rhode may have inadvertently guided Bronze toward his soul bond, but that’s the last thing on the sagely seraph’s mind. In fact, the only thing that’s been front and center for him lately is one eternally guiding truth: vengeance on all demonkind. Find out what happens when a demon female who’s the only one of her kind, and also Rhode’s greatest enemy, turns out to be his greatest salvation. Start reading Angel’s Vengeance!
Can we keep in touch? Are you curious to see what happens when Clara volunteers to help out a friend and brings Bronze along? It’s all fun and games until he's left standing in front of three high chairs. Find out what happens when one of the fiercest warriors of all time embarks on the most dangerous mission of all time: babysitting two-year-old lycan triplets. Claim your BONUS EPILOGUE when you sign up to my newsletter to see how our big-mouthed fallen angel handles his first babysitting adventure. Enjoy!
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