Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
Asad
“Look at this simple ho, sleeping all good like she ain’t violated.
” Mugging Aryn, Ember lifts her booted foot onto the mattress and jostles up it.
When Aryn, bonnet on and makeup-free, continues to sleep like a baby, Ember lowers her leg, reaches over, and pops my ex–jump off in the back of the head. “Wake up, ho.”
I snort, standing on the other side of the darkened bedroom, arms crossed.
Sure, it’s two in the morning, and true, we broke into her town house.
But damn, is she fucking Rip Van Winkle?
I glance down at the lit face of my watch.
I’m giving her twenty more seconds before I pull that pillow out from under her head and smash it over her face.
I bet she wakes the fuck up then when she can’t breathe.
That’s not needed though. The smack to the head—which, fucking ouch—does the trick.
With a gasp, Aryn jackknifes up, rubbing her scalp through her silk cap.
The confusion abruptly evaporates from her face when she finally notices Ember standing next to the bed and me on the other, dressed in all black.
She licks her lips, the whites of her eyes bright in the dark. “What the … What’re you … Prince—”
“Aht, aht.” Ember cuts her off, leaning over so they’re face-to-face. “Don’t talk to him. That’s why you’re in this position now.”
“Wh-what p-position?” she stutters, shaking her head and holding her hands up, palms out.
Ember smiles, and it’s all teeth. And it’s nothing nice. Aryn actually flinches.
“Fucked. And not how you’re used to.”
I move, coming to stand at the foot of the large sleigh bed with its mountain of pillows, and pin her with a steady look.
“What did I tell you to do if you and my dick were ever in the same room again?” I ask her.
She whimpers, fear damn near streaming out of her pores. It’s one of my favorite scents. Her lips part, but then she glances at Ember.
“Go ahead. Answer him.” She grants her permission.
“To exit it.”
I nod. “Right. And I warned you what would happen if you didn’t. Now, when you showed up at the ball, I was there. And so was my dick. Not only did you not exit, but you put your hands on me. My wife took exception to that.”
“Wife?” She frowns. “I thought she was your fiancée—”
“Hey.” Ember snaps her fingers in front of her face. “See, you worried about the wrong shit. I’m his wife now. We made it official. Now pay attention.”
“Anyway, like I was saying.” I lift a foot to the end of the bed and prop my forearm across my knee. “My wife took exception to that, so being the good husband I am, I’m giving her a belated wedding gift. Ma?”
“Thank you, baby.” Ember reaches into the pocket of her cargo pants and removes a syringe.
At the sight of it, Aryn squeals and scrambles off the bed.
Or tries to. I’m already on her, holding her down.
In seconds, Ember has the needle sliding into Aryn’s neck and injecting whatever new thing she’s created into her bloodstream. “There you go.”
I release Aryn and step back. We both stand there, watching as her body jerks, eyes roll back, and foam bubbles at her lips. It’s over in seconds.
“A shame. Such a promising career cut short by drugs and a friendly pussy.”
I bark out a laugh and, gripping the front of her throat, drag Ember close for a kiss.
That I can have this, have her so freely without any lies or hidden agendas, still has happiness and peace surging inside me a month after we eloped.
Ember Cross Prince is mine. She rules House of Cross and the Cross organization beside me as my equal, no longer in the shadows, no longer in silence.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Have you ever fucked her in this bed?” Ember frowns up at me, the fingernails digging into my skin a threat.
My head jerks up and I mug her. “Hell no. Hotel rooms. I didn’t do house calls.”
Snickering, she glances at the bed and Aryn’s corpse sprawled on it. Stepping out of my embrace, she climbs onto the mattress, snatches her shirt off, and throws it over the side of the bed. With a grunt, she shoves and shoves at Aryn’s body until it rolls off the bed and hits the floor.
Well. Gotdamn.
A bark of laughter escapes me, and I stare at her, shocked. Ember grins, and when she crooks a finger at me, I’m already moving toward her, peeling off my shirt. This woman might be more deviant than me. And fuck, I love that for me.
Because she’s my equal.
She’s mine.