Epilogue
Asoft tune danced out from Paeonia’s fingertips as she pressed her fingers over the piano keys.
A talent she was slowly, but surely, learning.
Spring was coming to an end, the warm sun shining decadent rays across the parlor.
Paeonia had slipped on a simple dress, one light and airy for the exceptionally warm weather that week.
Rowan watched her silently from around the bend, lingering in the shadows.
“You can just ask him to teach you, you know?” Paeonia muttered before letting her playing come to a halt.
She spun on the bench to face Astara who appeared to be lurking in the shadows same as Rowan. She crept out of the dark like a guilty child, her cheeks warming to a crimson hue.
“I don’t want to bother him,” she said gently.
When the Stoneborne had melted back into living beings again, Astara had lost the curse keeping her trapped in time.
Still, some of her memories had slipped through the cracks along with the stone, leaving gaps.
She didn’t fully remember the night she convinced Georgia to go out into the gardens, but she remembered enough to feel remorse.
Paeonia was hesitant to befriend her, but she decided that if she had given Rowan a chance at redemption, it would be unfair not to offer her the same.
Rowan had never thought he’d be drawn to such kindness, but the way Paeonia viewed the world was like seeing everything in a gossamer cast. He loved her all the more for it.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Paeonia answered.
“Of course he does. I got everyone into this entire mess—”
“Why don’t you just ask him yourself instead of guessing? He won’t bite,” she added.
“Well, not her,” Rowan mumbled under his breath. His magic touched hers, and she tangled her light around his, a small flush rising to her cheeks.
“I’ll,” Astara began, swallowing hard, “think about it.”
Paeonia let Astara linger in the room alone with the piano, and the moment she exited, the precarious unattuned notes fluttered in the air.
Rowan followed close behind, Paeonia pretending to be oblivious. It made him smile.
She hummed to herself as she entered the gardens, the flowers bursting at the seams, blooming anywhere and everywhere.
She passed a small line of potted plants she had gathered to bring to her father when she visited him tomorrow, always showcasing new flora he had never seen before and letting him add them to the cottage’s garden.
She entered the small alcove of foliage and peonies that she unceremoniously named her personal section of the garden. She spun around, walking backward, Rowan standing in contrast amongst the blush-toned flowers.
“Following me?” she teased.
“It’s become ingrained to seek you out. To follow your light.” He strolled closer to her, and even after all these months spent with him, her cheeks turned red.
He caressed her face when he entered her space, her pink ribbon tied around his wrist. She bit her lip, leaning into his embrace.
They sat on the lonesome bench, and Paeonia lay across his lap until the sun finally set over the horizon. When the stars just barely began to flicker in the sky, she rose. He mirrored her immediately, his horns on full display, and tugged her flush against him.
“I want to kiss you,” she mumbled, her face aflame.
He grinned. “What is stopping you?”
“I cannot reach,” she whined.
He was swift in grabbing her waist, falling backward into the flowers, letting her straddle his lap, granting her access to his lips. She connected their mouths, Paeonia humming.
The wobbly stems of peonies began to wrap around Rowan’s arms and wrist, tugging them away from Paeonia’s body. He grinned into the kiss as she used the flora to pin him down. She trailed kisses down his neck and gooseflesh pilled on his skin.
“Timid and docile Paeonia,” Rowan muttered breathlessly.
Her hands pushed his light jacket back so her fingers could slide under the fabric and over his chest. A rumble echoed behind his ribs at her soft touches.
When she slightly rolled her hips, Rowan lost his composure, easily breaking free of the flowers and rolling her underneath him with a tiny yelp.
“I need to claim you,” he muttered against her skin.
She panted. “You haven’t already?”
“Oh, I have,” he chuckled. “But not in this form.”
Paeonia gulped, likely remembering his threat in the dining room about wanting to take her in his beastly form all those months ago.
He pecked her lips before tucking her hair behind her ear. “May I?” he asked.
She nodded.
His hand slid between her legs, hefting her thick skirts up, and Paeonia quickly clasped them.
He beckoned for her to lift her bottom so he could tug her undergarments down her legs.
She gasped in surprise at his touch, and he didn’t relent.
He moved quickly, with harsh movements, rubbing his fingers along her, circling her, before finally sinking a finger inside, his claws retracted.
She bit her lip, her chest rising in deep breaths.
“Relax, Pae,” he encouraged, edging his finger deeper.
She nodded, and he smiled at her attempt to do what he said.
His finger began a steady rhythm, his other hand groping her chest. He broke the buttons along the front of her dress, pulling her top down enough for her breasts to escape, and he attached his mouth to her nipple.
She whined when he forced another finger inside.
“Rowan,” she cried, and that stirred him. He hardened painfully in his trousers, his fingers moving without restraint, wanting to open her up as fast as possible so he could seat himself in her warmth.
She made a sweet sound at his harsh movements, rolling her hips into him.
“Fuck,” he breathed, resting his forehead on hers. The cooling, evening air was refreshing to the heat that bloomed inside him. He was tempted to let Paeonia remain dressed, to not waste any more time tearing her gown away, but that thought fell when she moaned, her eyes heavy-lidded.
He pulled back, his fingers sliding out of her. “On your knees,” he told her. She blinked a few times, processing his words. She looked nervous as she slowly sat, moving to get to her knees, now facing away from him.
He bent on one knee beside her, grabbing her waist, and kneading his hand into her flesh.
“Lean forward,” he instructed.
She dropped to her elbows, then to her cheek as Rowan pressed a hand on the top of her back. She tilted her head to look at him, his hands grazing along her sides. His fingers teased the lacing of her dress as he undid it, pulling roughly to get the dress to loosen enough to remove.
When he tore it away, Paeonia clutched it beneath her arms to lay her head upon as Rowan coaxed her body to open for him. She squeezed the fabric of her dress between her fingers, turning back over her shoulder as Rowan caressed her body, his claws teasing her delicate skin.
“A beast and his mate,” he grumbled to himself, admiring the softness of Paeonia’s flesh and the way it billowed under his touch.
“You’re not a beast,” she said faintly. Her cheeks were flushed and that stirred heat in Rowan’s abdomen.
He traced her features, enthralled by every inch of her. “Maybe not,” he began, agreeing enough to placate her. “But, I’m going to fuck you like one.”
Paeonia made a noise in her throat, her eyes flashing. Rowan wrapped his hands around the pillowy fat of her hips, hiking her upward so she was on perfect display for him.
“I want you to keep your eyes on me,” he commanded.
She nodded, her cheek rubbing against her dress. He ran a finger along her center, easing one in, and she bit her lip. He worked her slowly, adding another finger, her eyes growing heavy. “Perfect,” he muttered under his breath as he watched his fingers disappear inside of her with every thrust.
Removing his fingers, he slid his palm along her back, resting it on her waist as his other hand held his cock, lining himself with her entrance. He dragged his length along her once. Twice. Paeonia’s fingers twisted into her dress when he finally edged himself in.
“Oh, my stars,” she groaned.
He pushed in beyond just his tip, groaning as she spasmed at the intrusion. Once he was fully seated, he gave her a moment to adjust before he started a steady pace, her breathing hitching. She made tiny noises in her throat, her warmth fluttering around him.
“Mine,” he growled.
“Yours,” she agreed.
That sparked him to rut faster. To take her in harder thrusts.
He allowed her to look away as she clawed at the ground, her little sounds making his ears perk with rapt interest. “Mmm,” he hummed.
“That’s it, love. You’re taking me so well.
” Rowan groaned, his hips flatting to her backside each time he bottomed out.
Pleasantly surprised with how much of him she could accommodate.
“R-Rowan,” she cried, tiny daisies and tulips sprouting from the ground and lacing through her fingers.
He was so close. So fucking close.
“You gonna take my knot, wife?”
She peered back, her cheek flat against the ground, and her eyes, reflecting the stars above, briefly flashed as if she just remembered what made him so animalistic in his wyld glamour.
She nodded, her eyes struggling to stay open.
“So perfect,” he mindlessly muttered. “Are you close?”
She groaned. “Rowan, yes— Oh!”
He filled her, coming with several grunts, Paeonia moaning through her teeth.
He kept pumping himself inside her, thrusting his hips harder, more aggressively.
She clenched tightly around him, unraveling just as he did.
He figured the bond made them often finish at the same time, everything about them in perfect harmony.
Finally, his knot slid into her with a bit of resistance, both of them making obscene noises.
He had never done this before. Never knotted another. Never trusted himself to be in control. Never wanted to allow that mating ritual to take place.
Fuck, did it feel good.
Her eyes squeezed shut, and her legs shook as she let Rowan seat himself fully inside her, his cock pulsing. He continued tiny ruts of his hips, coaxing her pleasure for as long as he could.
Once her legs stopped shaking, both of them catching their breaths, she said, “Rowan.”
He leaned over her, breathing hard. “Yes?”
She wiggled her hips, and he knew what she was asking.
“Apologies, little flower. But we’re going to be stuck like this for a few more minutes.”
She squealed when he did another tiny thrust to emphasize the fact that his knot kept him locked inside her as long as it was swollen.
“Is that okay?”
She gave him a dreamy smile. “Yes.”
He was able to lean completely atop her, her form so much smaller than his, his arms on either side of her head. He snaked a hand around her neck, tugging her against him and placing a kiss on her cheek.
She giggled to herself and Rowan raised a brow. “What’s so funny?”
Her face somehow turned redder than it already was. “I just… If someone was to stumble upon us right now, we wouldn’t even be able to grab our clothes and hide, pretending to be innocent.”
He chuckled. “No. No, they would see just how well you’ve taken my cock, sweet Pae. They’d know my seed is locked inside you for the next few minutes.”
“Rowan!” she gasped, somehow still bashful with his vulgar language even after what they had just done.
Eventually, his knot’s swelling went down enough for him to remove himself, helping her up.
Removing his shirt to clean her. Tugging her dress on.
Tying it for her. Kissing her neck. Her forehead.
The tip of her nose. He apologized for the ripped buttons, promising to get her a new dress.
He stroked his fingers through her hair, resting his palm on her cheek as she stared lovingly at him.
Gods, he loved her.
“Do you miss your brother?” she asked, stealing him from his reprieve.
He raised an eyebrow before gathering her in his arms and tucking her into his side as he led her back to the castle, the night air still warm.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Perhaps you could visit him. Maybe one day you’d learn to get along again.”
After leaving Laurus in the fae realm, within the claws of the Alder Court—which had now become more powerful than ever, ruled by others besides Rowan’s family—he was forced to sign a treaty, preventing him from ever visiting Lyth again.
The court approved of this banishment, deeming it fair after Rowan’s completion of Laurus’ curse.
“Perhaps,” he mused, not thinking that truly a possible option. But it made Paeonia smile, so maybe he would try to work things out with his brother anyway.
She squeezed his hand draped over her shoulder.
“Come,” he said softly as they entered the castle. “I wish to play you a song.”