EPILOGUE #4
For several minutes, neither of us speaks. The canyon breeze pushes against the blackout curtains, and somewhere in the house a pipe ticks as the heating system cycles on.
“I want a bonding bite.”
The words land in the quiet nest like a stone dropped into still water.
I go completely rigid behind her.
My arm tightens across her waist involuntarily, fingers pressing harder against the warm skin of her stomach. My brain stalls, boots up again, stalls a second time.
“You—” My voice comes out strangled. I clear my throat and try again. “Say that again?”
Phoenix rolls in my arms until she’s facing me.
Amber eyes find mine in the dim light filtering through the blanket canopy overhead, gold flecks catching what little illumination exists.
Her expression holds zero uncertainty. Zero hesitation.
Zero trace of the impulsive chaos that usually precedes her more catastrophic decisions.
She looks like a woman who has already made up her mind and is simply informing me of the outcome.
“A bonding bite. From you. On me. Eventually, I want one from all four of you, but I want you to be first.” She taps the curve of her neck, just below her jaw, indicating the exact spot. “Right here would be ideal.”
My pulse hammers so hard I can feel it in my temples. “Phoenix, you realize what you’re asking?”
“I’m fully aware.”
“Last time you asked me for a bonding bite, you were in the middle of a heat that you deliberately induced by swallowing an entire bottle of pills.” I search her face for any sign of the reckless desperation that drove her then.
“I had to spank you and lecture you about self-destructive behavior before I’d even touch you. ”
Her mouth twitches. “In fairness, that might not have been the punishment you thought it was.”
I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at her. The blanket canopy brushes the top of my head. “You know a bite outside of heat won’t be permanent. We’ll just have to do it all over again.”
Phoenix’s eyes brighten. Her hand slides from my face to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair with a grip that tightens until there’s no possibility of misunderstanding her intent.
She pulls me closer. Close enough that her lips brush the shell of my ear when she speaks.
“Then I guess we have a few months to get in all the practice we need. Over and over again.”
PHOENIX
I wake up early to a nest that is almost full.
Mason is tucked up behind me, one arm draped over my waist. Atticus is behind him and Dom is on my other side, close enough that the stubble on his cheek brushes my nose.
Someone is missing.
I quietly maneuver out of bed without waking them and follow the distinctive smell of cooking butter to the kitchen.
Judah stands at the stove with his back to me, broad muscles of his shoulders shifting enticingly under his gray shirt as he whisks something in a bowl. A pan sizzles on the burner beside him.
“Good morning,” he says without turning around.
“You didn’t come to the nest last night.” My voice comes out rougher than intended, still tangled up in sleep.
Judah’s shoulders tense for a fraction of a second before he glances back at me. “Didn’t want to presume.”
“Presume what?”
He returns his attention to the stove, but I don’t miss the flush on his cheeks. “Considering I only just got back last night, I technically haven’t been invited into your nest yet.”
I cross the kitchen in four steps and wrap my arms around his waist from behind.
He goes completely still.
I press my cheek against the space between his shoulder blades, breathing in the familiar scent of salt and cedar that’s been embedded in my memory since that first breakfast at his house in Harmony Harbor. His heart pounds against my ear, steady but still a little faster than it should be.
“You are always welcome in the nest.” I squeeze tighter, feeling his breath catch. “That’s the whole point of it being so big.”
He clears his throat nervously, but I sense the smile in his voice. “As long as you’re sure.”
“Of course, I’m sure.” I release him just enough to turn him around, my hands finding the worn cotton of his shirt.
“No more of this ‘didn’t want to presume’ nonsense.
If you want to be in the nest, you come to the nest. If you want to sleep alone sometimes, that’s fine too.
But don’t stay away because you’re worried about not being wanted. You are always wanted.”
He turns in my arms, and I instinctively rise on my toes to kiss him, the move so smooth that it feels like I’ve been doing it for years.
The kiss is soft and gentle. I taste the lingering bitter sweetness of his morning coffee as I trace my tongue along his.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “No more sleeping in a guest room.”
“Good.” I step back and eye the stove with renewed interest. “Now. What are you making?”
“Eggs. That okay?”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “Depends. Are your omelets better than mine? Because if they are, I might take it personally.”
Judah laughs. “Maybe I’ll make pancakes instead.”
“That’s probably wise.”
He shakes his head, still smiling, and returns his attention to the stove.
I turn to the coffee machine, which might be the thing I love most about Atticus being over-the-top in everything he does. A gleaming beast of Italian engineering, I’ve only just figured out how to use it without spraying steamed milk all over the counter.
Now, a homemade caramel latte a day is doing wonders for my mood.
I take a sip and look up to find Judah watching me.
My hand lifts self-consciously to touch my face, assuming I’ve got an oatmilk mustache.”Everything okay?”
“I need you to know something.”
I set down my coffee at the seriousness in my tone and give him my full attention. “What’s that?”
He reaches out, fingertips brushing a strand of hair back from my face. The touch is feather-light, almost reverent.
“What you did…bringing all of us together—” His jaw works like he’s fighting to get the words out.”Mason and I were broken. Fucking shattered. I spent a decade convinced I’d never really be happy again.”
“Judah—”
“Let me finish.” His hand settles against my jaw, thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone. “You fixed it. Not just me and Mason, but all of it. None of us would be here if it wasn’t for you.”
His forehead drops to rest against mine.
“Then you showed up. This chaotic, stubborn, beautiful woman who refuses to take no for an answer and somehow sees exactly what people need, even when they can’t see it themselves.”
My eyes are burning. I blink hard, refusing to cry into my damn latte.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you how grateful I am,” he says quietly. “For seeing us. For choosing us. For building something I never thought I’d get to have.”
The first tear escapes despite my best efforts, tracking hot down my cheek. Judah catches it with his thumb, a small smile curving his mouth.
“Didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Shut up.” I grab his shirt and pull him closer, burying my face against his chest. “It’s too early in the morning for this many feelings.”
His laugh vibrates through me as his arms wrap around my shoulders, solid and warm and exactly right.