Epilogue
Two Years Later
Juniper
Snow falls thick and steady outside the cabin windows, blanketing the world in silence.
I’ve been up all night, hunched over the glow of my laptop, chasing the final paragraphs of my latest story, Ghosts of Dead Man’s Creek.
It’s not exactly the paranormal deep dive I started my blog with, but sometime after the wedding, the stories shifted.
Now it’s part history, part fiction… and okay, mostly ghost smut.
Turns out there’s a whole audience out there for paranormal romance.
Ghostly lovers waiting centuries for reincarnated soulmates.
Tragic vampires with emotional baggage and a flair for dramatic declarations.
It’s weird, it’s wonderful, and somehow, it’s paying the bills.
I mutter to myself about sentence structure, tugging my sweatshirt back over my shoulder, half-aware of the man watching me from the kitchen.
His coffee steams in his hand, his eyes soft and amused.
I know that look. It’s the one he gives me when he thinks I’m beautiful but doesn’t want to say it out loud.
I used to think his lack of emotion would annoy me. Now I realize the emotion was always there, it was just buried. Buried, like the gold out in that river, and worth every second I spent mining.
The baby monitor crackles beside him, a sleepy sigh filtering through the static.
Wren’s six months old now. She’s got my wild eyes, his quiet stare, and she’s already figured out how to charm the hell out of both of us.
I thought maybe he’d last a little longer, but nope, he was the first to cave to her demands.
Now, I’m pretty sure she has him wrapped tight around her little finger for life.
Doesn’t help that he was the one who delivered her.
It was the worst snowstorm we’d had in years.
Ten feet in forty-eight hours. The doctor couldn’t get up here for weeks.
Knox had to learn on the fly from an old book we’d taken from the library.
Turns out a lot has changed with birth since the 1972 publication of ‘Birthing at Home.’ He did great, though.
Boiled the water, brought clean towels, held my hand, and reminded me how beautiful I looked even though I most definitely did not look beautiful.
When Wren was born, he was the first to swaddle her, the first to hold her, the first to look down at her sweet little face and tell her she was loved. It was poetry in motion, and I love that every piece of our story happens right here on this land.
I glance up and catch him smiling. That quiet, crooked smile that makes my chest ache.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, walking over to kiss my forehead. “Just thinking about how lucky I am that you put up with me.”
I smirk, flicking my eyes back to the screen. “Well, you have this rugged mountain man charm and an impressive ability to chop wood dramatically. I figured I’d keep you around for inspiration.”
He laughs and settles beside me. “So, I’m just your cabin candy?”
I wrap my arms around him and kiss his lips. “Oh, you’re more than candy. You’re a whole meal.”
He raises a brow. “What kind of meal are we talking? Like… aged venison or gas station sushi?”
I snort. “Oh please. You’re homemade lasagna. Lots of layers, a little messy, takes time to get right, but once you do, comfort food for life.”
He grins, pulling me closer. “Wow, thanks… I think?”
“You’re welcome,” I whisper against his chest. “We should go check on our little breadstick before she starts summoning ghosts again.”
I close the laptop with a satisfying click, the story finally done. My fingers ache, my back protests, but my heart feels full. I lean into him, letting the warmth of his body seep into mine. He smells like cedar, coffee, and something I can’t name but always recognize.
“Do you think she’ll be like me?” I ask quietly, eyes drifting toward the monitor.
He follows my gaze. “Brave and reckless? I hope so.”
I laugh. “Yeah. I hope she’s like you too.”
“Well,” he squeezes my shoulder, “that’s where she’d be going wrong. Not sure the world needs anymore stubbornness.”
I elbow him gently. “Hey, I like you.”
“You got tricked.” He kisses the top of my head as we turn the corner to Wren’s room. She’s still asleep, her little stuffed fox tucked under her arm, snow falling peacefully beyond the window over the crib, the late afternoon light sinking behind the trees.
It’s beautiful and surreal.
Knox wraps his arms around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I nod. “Just thinking.”
“That’s dangerous,” he teases.
I smile. “I was remembering the first night I stayed here. It was so cold and quiet. I thought I’d made a mistake. I thought you were a psychopath.”
“And now?”
I lean back into him. “Now I know you’re a psychopath.”
He pinches my waist playfully and kisses my neck. “You know what happens to smart mouthed writers around here, right?”
I twist toward him, biting back a smile. “No,” I lie. “What?”
Shaking his head, he lifts me up over his shoulder like I weigh nothing more than a stack of firewood. I love how small and fragile I feel with him.
A moment later we’re in the backroom with the door clicking shut behind us, the firelight flickering through the cracks. He sets me down gently, but there’s mischief in his eyes and a wild warmth that makes my breath catch.
“You were saying?” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as he brushes a strand of hair from my face.
I grin, heart thudding. “I don’t recall.”
He leans in, forehead resting against mine. “Smart mouth with a sharp tongue. Dangerous combination.”
“And what would a psychopath do about a girl like that,” I blink slowly, playfully, “if she were being mouthy?”
He laughs roughly and pulls me closer. “You couldn’t handle what a psychopath would do.”
I raise a brow. “Is that so?”
He nods, eyes dark with affection. “That’s so.”
I tilt my head, letting my fingers trail down his chest slowly. “Try me.”
His jaw tightens, and I see a flicker of restraint in the way his eyes darken just a shade deeper. He’s holding back, but barely.
“You really want to know?” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “You really want me to get that paddle off the wall and spank your ass?”
I nod, lips parted, breath shallow. “I want to know what happens to mouthy girls who push it too far.”
He grabs my wrist, not hard, but firm enough to make my pulse jump. “They get taught lessons,” he says, dragging me closer until there’s no space left between us. “Slow ones. The kind they feel for days.”
My breath catches. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about this.”
He leans in, lips brushing my ear. “I think about it every time you smirk. Every time you sass me. Every time you walk away like you’re not begging to be caught.”
I shiver, heat blooming low in my belly. “And if I am?”
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Then you’re about to find out what happens when I stop pretending I don’t want to ruin you a little.”
I swallow hard, heart pounding. “Just a little?”
He grins, wicked and warm. “Bend over.”
I do as he’s asked, turning onto my knees, the little nightgown I wear rotating up as I move.
“Look at these pretty little cotton panties covering your ass.” He tugs them down with one quick pull, sending a gush of warmth toward my seam.
I love that we can still play like this, that he gets into it, that he makes me feel loved and wanted, that he likes to tease and play, that he needs these quiet moments of escape as much as I do.
He kisses the side of my neck. “I want you messy and loud. You understand?” The rough hum of his deep voice on my skin sends chills down my spine and into my toes.
“Say you understand.” He paddles my ass softly.
I don’t answer.
So he does it again, harder this time. “Say you understand.”
I still don’t answer. I know this game. The more I disobey, the bigger the punishment gets, and I like to be punished.
He spanks me harder, the sting of the paddle rippling through my ass, into my thighs, and onto my pussy.
I sigh. It’s the feeling I was looking for. The current of pain that brushes my clit and soaks me.
“Girl, this is the last time I ask. If you don’t answer me, you get this paddle hard on that little pussy. Is that what you want?”
I stay silent, wiggling my ass back and forth playfully, before suddenly and without warning, the paddle cracks against my smooth crease.
“Oh God!” I moan and turn back, letting him see the bruises he’s made.
“You’re so red.” He stares at my pussy, his cock hard as he slides his thick fingers inside of me. “You keep teasing me like this, I’ll show you what happens when I lose control.”
A shiver of excitement runs up my spine. I love it when he gets like this.
He pulls his fingers from inside of me and lands them on his tongue, moaning as he licks my juices off his hand, his gaze never leaving mine.
“I’m not trying to be bad,” I say, voice soft, sweet, and spirited. “Maybe you should show me how to be good.”
His breath catches and his jaw tightens slightly. He steps closer slowly. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “If you want to learn to be good, you’re asking the wrong man.”
I swallow hard, my heart jumping out of my chest.
He brushes a thumb along my jaw, tilting my chin up. “I like you naughty. I get to do anything I want with you when you’re naughty.”
My knees go weak, but I hold his gaze, my heart thudding.
“Now beg me.”
“What?”
He grins, warm and wicked. “Beg me.”
This is new.
“Beg you?”
“Don’t play dumb.” His rough hand rests against my throat. “Use those pretty little lips to beg for my cock, or I’m going to turn you over, hold you down, and make you say it.”
Both options sound desirable, but naughty is always my first instinct.
“No,” I whisper, voice velvet-soft but laced with challenge, “I don’t beg.”
His eyes flash, dark and dangerous, and I feel the shift in him. You can see the way his restraint starts to unravel at the edges, and his cock pulsing with every bit of defiance I show.
“You sure you want to play it that way?” he growls, fingers tightening just enough to make my breath hitch.
I nod, unflinching. “I want you to earn it.”
He laughs, low and rough. “You’re playing with fire, baby.”
“I know,” I say, leaning in until my lips brush his jaw. “I’m ready to be taught my lesson.”
In one swift motion, he turns me over, grips my hips, and sinks into my soaking pussy with a groan.
It’s rough and wild, and with every growl that escapes his lips, I know he wants me, needs me, can’t get enough of me.
My pussy scrubs against the hand I’ve tucked between my legs, and in moments, I’m screaming out for relief, coming on his thick cock as he fucks the animal into me.
“Say my name. I want to hear it as you fall apart.”
I throw him a bone and obey… just this once.
“Knox.” My tone is broken and soft.
“Say it again!”
“Knox!” I manage as he thrusts into me harder and faster.
“You’re my naughty little girl, aren’t you? You’re so fucking bad.” He thrusts one final time and spills his seed inside of me with a growl. “Fuck!”
I lean back, taking all of him in, grinding the last bit of pleasure from his cock before he pulls out with a sigh.
We aren’t a second past our orgasms before he turns me forward and pulls me in against his chest. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I smile, “that was fun!”
“I love you.” His big hand holds my head in place against his chest as I listen to his heart race.
“I love you more,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to explain what happened up here that night I ran into the woods after the bear, or why I found that coin that looked just like my dad’s. Was it a ghost? Spiritual intervention? A sign from up above?
Whatever it was, it guided me home to the kind of love that doesn’t haunt, it heals. The kind of love that finds you in the dark and walks you back into the light. The kind of love that feels like home.
THANK YOU FOR READING.
READ LANA’S STORY HERE.