Epilogue
“ I ’m off to work!” I shout, grabbing my camera bag and heading toward the door. Moth swoops down from the loft, planting a kiss on my forehead before cocooning me in his arms.
His deadline is in exactly one week, and I get the idea he’s looking for a reason to procrastinate. I flutter up so that we are face-to-face and breathe in the scent of strong tea as our lips collide.
I guess even faerie-born cryptids depend on caffeine when they’re pulling all-nighters. “You did sleep last night, didn’t you?”
“I did not.”
“Moth—”
“As if my flame cannot relate to a burst of creativity in the midnight hours,” he says, tucking the top of my head under his chin. I can feel him yawn. “Yet now, in the morning light, my only desire is to return to our bed and carry you with me.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t complain,” I say, snuggling against him. “Did you finish that chapter you were working on?”
“I fear if I do not answer correctly, I will have to return to my desk…”
“Why?” I tease, my body flush against his. “I love being a distraction.”
He growls, pulling me upward. I hook my legs across his waist, allowing myself to be peppered from my lips down to my shoulders with kisses, sharp then soft. We move through the long wallpaper-covered hallways decorated with photos—both candid and staged—of the two of us and the people we love. With each step, he guides us through the living scrapbook of our home until we’re back where we started: the large bedroom with a California king bed covered in soft blankets and pillows. I’m happily tossed upon them.
I glance at the clock.
What’s being a little late anyways? Oak is never on time, and worst-case scenario, Widow will raise her eyebrows at me and start humming some faerie-written love song about “sweet kisses in the morning.” I can’t tell if she’s making it up on the spot to tease me or if it’s just a common theme with fae artists. Either way, I can handle a little teasing if it means more of Moth’s touch…
We keep it to kissing … and kissing. God, his lips feel so damn good. My body aches for more and my alarm is buzzing for me to get going. But I’m weak to his touch, and it’s minutes before we untangle ourselves.
“Okay, now I’m actually off to work,” I say, rolling out of the bed and smoothing my dress. “Make sure you eat more than pastries and drink more than tea.”
He’s a sugar fiend on the worst of days and even more terrible on the days he’s sitting at the computer all day.
“I think I have had my fill of sweets—until you return home.”
Insatiable , I think as a smile curves at the edge of his lips. We both have busy days ahead, so I make the effort to leave with one last kiss. Our lips lock and I feel his hand at the small of my waist, pulling me close. Inhaling deeply, I break away, comforted by that same woodsy smell of pine and campfire.
“I love you, Moth.”
“I love you, my flame.” His lips land one more peck before I’m off.
It’s not a far commute. Sprout happily bounds through the grass as I make my way to the old shed that we converted into an office. Whoever said you can’t have it all obviously never had a cryptid husband and a portal to the faerie realm. Queen Plume wasn’t kidding when she said the Dragonfly Court owed us a boon and I was all but happy enough to cash it on this gorgeous magic mirror that serves as my entrance to the studio. We’ve been open for almost a year now, and Oak was right, the novelty combined with our talents really has made something magical.
I slip into the backroom; from my viewpoint, I can tell the sign is still turned to “closed,” which is odd. Until I hear the sound of moaning.
Oh my God!
I peer around the corner and find Oak, his arms around Widow whose corset strings are loosened. Oh wow, I should not be watching this. They have been flirting nonstop since before the wedding. Widow even caught the bouquet! Now that they’re finally lip-locked, I’m so not ruining the moment!
Giggling to myself, I dip back through the portal and slip back into the house. Moth is back to typing, and when he looks up, his face freezes as if buffering. “I was worried you were about to tell me it has been eight hours and I have not gotten down a single word.”
“Not quite. I walked in on Oak and Widow totally making out,” I say, still giddy with the fact they’re finally getting together.
“Seems romance is in the air this morning,” he says thoughtfully. “I am happy for them—they will make a good match.”
“Well.” I clear my throat. “Looks like I have a few more minutes to be a distraction.”
He licks his lips, a hunger in his eyes burning as if he’s just been offered a four coarse meal. I wonder what kind of scene he’s been writing.
“I would prefer to think of you as my muse.” I shiver at the words. The idea that we can share this idyllic, yet domestic, life together and I still have the power to inspire him is …well, it’s more than I could have ever dreamt of.
I hesitate, unsure whether I want to play this coy or outright ask him if he wants help bringing his pages to life. “Well,” I say, cracking a smile. “May I amuse you?” I decide to take the teasing route. In a lifetime together, there’s more than enough time for us to walk both paths.
“Well,” he says, fluttering down from the loft, “I could use a proper breakfast.” He grins, his mouth filled with fanged teeth. Desire heats me at my core.
But the man has been practically sustaining himself on sugar cubes and pastries since he started this project. For a moment, I’m not sure if the hunger I see in his eyes is for a literal snack—not me. I walk toward the kitchen, which happens to be one of my favorite spaces in our home.
“I think we have some of that vegan bacon from brunch yesterday, but like honestly, sometimes a thing is made from carrots and you can like …. tell.” I groan. We need to go grocery shopping.
“That is a shame.” He’s standing behind me now, his hot breath making the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge.
“Do you want to come through the portal with me? We can sneak out and grab something at that new place by the palace or—”
His lips meet mine, and I feel every inch of his smile—among other things—as he leans into me. “I was hoping for sustenance of another kind,” he says, his voice hoarse and hands rough as they grip my hips.
“Oh, thank god,” I moan. He turns me so I’m facing him, our lips meeting with a feverish need. He was so writing something explicit up there in that loft. I hop up, using my wings for extra lift, and close my legs around his waist. He hoists me up onto the kitchen counter with ease.
“Comfortable?”
“Mmm,” I purr, swinging my arms around his neck as I pull him in for the first of many “one last kisses.” Light pours in from the windows, shining off the gold flecks of his skin. His eyes crease in half-moons and shine like gems before he slides onto his knees, moving my skirt out of the way, but my panties—
Snap.
The sound of the fabric ripping fills the kitchen, but it’s not his claws doing the work, it’s his teeth. He chews through the fabric until he gets to—
Oh my God. Each lick of his tongue sends shivers through my spine as he hits just the right spot. I squirm as my wings span out behind me, knocking into a few of the hanging pots and pans above the island that I make note to move in the future. Now, though, my toes curl as he grinds his mouth into me and oh—oh my God!
I moan, pulling him up to clamp my mouth down onto his shoulder, biting just the way I know he likes. We stay melted into each other for a long time, until finally, we find our way to the couch. Moth brews more coffee, and we pull a blanket over our tangled bodies. It’s lovely and peaceful, and the perfect time to tell him the thought that’s been building within me lately.
“You know, there’s something I did want to talk about,” I say. We’ve been in this house for a year and have been talking a lot about what the future holds. Moth is going to be an author and I’m so proud of him—and I love helping to run the studio.
“I keep walking past the spare rooms and thinking about what they’d look like … if they were different,” I say, easing into the topic slowly.
“You know I trust your eye for decoration.” He laughs, ruffling my hair. “Whatever you desire will be yours.”
“I was thinking…” I shouldn’t be nervous, we’ve talked about this so many times, but I finally feel like this is the moment. “A nursery?”
His hand combs up my thigh until it rests on my stomach. “Are you certain?” he asks, his eyes as wide as his smile.
“I’d need to set up an appointment to get my IUD removed—it’s near its expiration date anyways, and we don’t have to be in a rush, but yeah, I feel really, really sure.” I hold tight to his arm. “I’ll need bloodwork for my thyroid, and all the other stuff, but we wouldn’t be able to officially start trying right away,”
With a mischievous grin, he picks me up and heads toward the bedroom. “Why not practice?”
Happiness rushes through me at the idea of what our future will hold. We will have a lifetime like this. Romance, laughter, sleeplessness, and too much coffee. Days will blur, seeming both long and short, in a house I hope is loud and filled with life.
I know that no matter what challenges we face, I’ll be happy. In the shadows, in the sunshine, because like moth to a flame, we will always be together.
A letter to the Moth Court from the Vampire’s Domain
Heather,
I understand that I must pay a penance, but do you think this is really necessary? My curtains are tattered, my court terrorized, and my bed has been taken over by this furry monstrosity. Of all the ways you could have retaliated, a cat? Claws and beak aside, you are more a monster than I could have given you credit for. A week has passed since your message arrived. Delivered by your sister-in-law, who I thought might stab me on arrival. She looked so satisfied while dropping the creature off, and I wondered if perhaps this was the peace offering I had been hoping for. Alas, the feline has decided to rage war with my linens and tapestries, and yet, I think I am growing fond of him all the same. I am still deciding on a name… Something smart, classic, fitting of the newest member of the Vampire Court.
I am thinking Mittens.
If you cannot tell by the rambly nature of this correspondence, I do miss you—terribly, if I’m being honest. Now that I am alone, I wish I had put more of an effort into the internet dating lessons you so generously offered. I have shamed my court, created controversy, and become the least desirable bachelor in Eclipsica. My only hope now is truly to get an unsuspecting mortal to swipe right. Perhaps then we can do that double date. If, of course, the two of you will have me.
Yours in unrequited friendship,
Magnus.
Thank you for enjoying this last chapter of Moth and Heather’s story.