Epilogue
Marigold
Six Months Later
The studio smells like fresh paint and old coffee.
Morning light streams into the space when I unlock the front door.
I gaze upon the place Reece and I created together, one that never really feels empty, even when it’s too early for people to arrive yet for classes.
Easels line the walls in soft rows, canvases half-finished from last night’s class waiting patiently for their owners to return.
I still can’t quite believe this is mine—our life, really—but every time I step inside, it feels a little more real.
Now I teach beginners with shaking hands and professionals who want to remember why they fell in love with art in the first place.
There’s something comforting about watching people create their own worlds out of color. Every painting is different because every artist sees the world differently, and none of those perspectives are wrong. They’re simply unique.
Maybe love works the same way. An Omega and a Delta might not fit the picture people originally would expect, but that doesn’t make it any less beautiful.
As I start to put the clean paint brushes into their tin can containers, I think about how Reece’s life has changed just as much as mine in these past months.
Not long after we returned from our mating ceremony, he met with Dominic Stockton and finally demonstrated the prototype he’d spent so much time pouring his heart into.
Dominic barely let him finish before offering to fund the project.
The device is now undergoing clinical trials, and Reece was invited to join the Biomedical team at Nexacore Pharmaceuticals as one of their lead engineers to oversee its development.
If all goes well, painful heats may soon become a thing of the past. Omegas across Sabine—and eventually the mainland—will finally live easier lives because of something Reece dreamed up in a tiny workshop. It still takes my breath away when I think about it.
Of course, one brilliant idea is never enough for my mate.
Drawing inspiration from our own relationship, he began designing products intended to help unconventional pairings like ours navigate sex during heats more comfortably.
Like silicone-molded penises that mimic an Alpha’s knot but can be used by any domination and come in any size.
Dominic believed in those ideas just as much, even agreeing to open a pilot boutique in Emporia to gauge public interest.
And Reece immediately knew who should run it.
Derrick accepted the manager position without hesitation, and, much to everyone’s surprise except Reece’s, he turned out to be a natural salesman.
He has a gift for shmoozing people, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier than when he finally traded polishing silver and serving dinner for running a business of his own.
Reece says it’s the first time he’s ever seen Derrick take anything seriously for longer than five minutes.
I smile as I move across the room, unfolding a few more chairs. I have four group classes, a one-on-one teaching course, and a little boy’s birthday party scheduled for today alone. It’s going to be a crazy Saturday, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Oh, and Dahlia is mated now, officially and happily.
Her ceremony with Tristan was small, but it was theirs, and that mattered more than anything else.
They live not far from our family’s townhome in the city, close enough for dinners and far enough for privacy.
Sometimes she comes by the studio and paints soft florals and update me on the baby’s progress, but what I like most of all is that she finally seems to be able to breathe again.
As for me and Reece, we live upstairs, in a two-bedroom apartment above the studio, with creaky floors, too many paint stains, and a kitchen that is always slightly too warm because someone forgets to close the oven properly.
It’s imperfect in every way that matters, and I love it more than I ever thought I could love a place.
And I know it’s because it’s our place. Something we’ve created together.
There are still whispers, of course. There always are in Sabine.
A Delta and an Omega, a mate bond that shouldn’t have been sanctioned, a change in tradition that still makes some people uncomfortable.
But because the Monarch allowed it, then the rest will follow.
Eventually. Just like with Iris having two mates instead of one. It’ll take time.
Reece comes up behind me now as I’m arranging paint jars on the shelf, arms sliding around my waist like he’s been doing it for years.
He presses a kiss to my shoulder and then my neck, lingering on the five little stars I had tattooed there by one of Killian and Xavier’s friends in the Lower Side.
It’s meant to mimic Reece’s bite mark, the one he gave me when we were first discovered by Heath.
It’s our way of making it permeant, to tell everyone I’m his, in a nontraditional way.
“I put on a pot of coffee for us,” he murmurs, “since you insist on coming down here so early.”
“I like taking the time to work on my own pieces. Before the chaos of the day begins,” I say, grinning.
“You’re going to make something abstract and call it my face again.”
“It was your face.”
He laughs, the sound vibrating against my back, and I lean into it without thinking. There are still moments where it catches me off guard—how normal this feels. How safe. The pure bliss of it all.
Turning in Reece’s arms, I take his hand. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
I lead him across the studio to the wall behind my desk, where two framed paintings hang side by side.
The first is sketch I once thought could only ever be a fantasy—the Alpha in White and me beneath the stars, caught in moment right before a kiss.
The second sketch hangs beside it like a reflection. The composition is the same, but the truth is different. Gone are the mask, the tailored white suit, and my fancy feathered dress.
In their place stands Reece in his servant’s uniform, while I wear one of the simple summer dresses I love. We’re reaching for each other with the same longing, except this time there’s nothing to hide behind.
Besides finer details, I had added watercolors and shading to the two pieces to really bring them to life.
Reece smiles. “I think these might be my favorite things you’ve ever created.”
“Me too.”
“Do you think you’ll ever do another one?” he asks.
I glance up at him, memorizing the familiar warmth in his eyes before looking back at the blank canvases waiting around the studio.
“Of course,” I say. “After all, our life together is just beginning.”
“It sure is.”
He leans down and kisses my forehead. For the first time in my life, the future doesn’t feel like an empty page waiting to be filled.
It feels like a masterpiece we’re still painting together, one daring stroke at a time.
THE END