Epilogue fifteen years later
Willow
The heliostat buzzed against my ear as my scalpel sank into the rubbery, firm and dense muscle, slicing the organ down to the long axis. Pulling the heliostat back, I looked at the students who had left their desks and crowded around the necropsy table. “Who can tell me what that is called?”
Only one hand was raised out of the dozen.
I smiled under my mask at my youngest student. “Yes, Piper?”
“Transverse cardiac slicing.”
“Very well,” I said, and the rest of the students groaned as they always did.
Piper was something of a prodigy. From the moment she’d decided to become my protege at only six years of age, she’d swallowed knowledge like a starved, blood-hungry shark. I was certain that by the time she’d reach her twenties, she would have surpassed me in knowledge and skill.
The academy was barely ten years old, but it had already amassed a good number of students from all sides of Epiron.
A little gift from my very rich duke of a husband.
After the new queen had taken over from Ulric, things had changed, and borders had opened, welcoming creatures of all kinds.
Over the years, understanding each other had become more important than trying to change one another.
And the academy had been a good start. Traditions, culture, and religion were deeply rooted in us, and it was somewhat difficult to maintain subjectivity when we perceived them about each other.
But our anatomy—on the inside, we were all the same. Made of flesh, blood, and bone.
“We will stop here today,” I said, removing my gloves and pulling my mask off. “Let’s let the rest catch up to you, shall we?”
Piper’s golden eyes gleamed as she lowered her head a little and followed the others out of the post-mortem classroom.
The halls were busy, busier than most days. The examination week was always my favourite week of the academic year.
Students lowered their heads as they passed by me, rushing in and out of the library, passing and pulling books and papers between each other. It was a full week where they needed to peel their faces off the book pages and learn to rely on each other.
My secretary was not at his post at the desk in front of my study even though fresh steam rose from his teacup that had been set too close to his typewriter for comfort.
I stretched my sore arms above my head, shutting the door behind me with the bottom of my foot. The mess in my study almost made me shudder, but it was exam season and there was nothing more I could do to control the amount of papers amassing in all corners of the tiny room.
A dark shadow loomed over me as I straightened a tiny spot on the table to set down a cup of water, and I gasped when something slipped over my eyes. My teeth sank into my lower lip as the silky blindfold was secured at the back of my head with a tight knot.
“Hello, Professor Duncan,” a familiar voice murmured against my ear, fingers sliding down my ribs and briefly settling against my round stomach before they came between my legs.
“Shh,” he cooed, pressing a palm against my mouth when I moaned at the intrusion between my thighs. “Quiet,” he murmured, pumping his fingers in and out of me. “So wet, wife. Always so wet, honey.”
Wet squelching sounds echoed about the small room before a sharp whack scored my buttocks. I jolted forward when the thick head of his cock caught against my entrance.
“Fuck,” he breathed against my neck, his hips rocking hard against mine.
The rhythmic, wet, sharp sound of our bodies meeting grew more urgent, uneven and hurried. I whimpered against his palm, my eyes screwing shut when he slid his other hand over my clit, dragging out the violent, built-up pressure until I finally surrendered, falling slack against him.
He didn't try to make it last, tensing against me, fingers digging into my hips as he pulled me closer. Nuzzling my neck, he came with a grunt. “Saints, I’ve missed this.” A kiss at the back of my neck. Another on my shoulder. “I missed you. So much. Fuck. Too much.”
Untying the knot at the back of my head, he set me on the table, coming to stand between my parted thighs.
He tucked himself back in his pants and put a cigarette to his lips—an old habit. He never lit them anymore; hadn't for a few years now. His golden hair had faded to a slightly paler colour, turning white at the temples. But he was still the man I remembered from so long ago now.
“Hi,” I whispered, running my fingers over his pale beard. “You’re back.”
As he’d promised the parliament before Audrey had come into power, he’d served and stayed by her side at every turn.
Which meant I’d had to get used to him leaving for long periods of time sometimes.
Since Mortdale had started coal trades with the Fair Isles a few months ago to power the new steam locomotive network, he’d been travelling across the seas for weeks and months.
He’d been a naval commander for years, and no one knew the seas and trades better than him.
“You said you wouldn’t miss me,” he said, sounding pretty sore about it still. “Actually, you almost kicked me out of the house. Told me not to come back until I had it sorted.”
Because I knew Mortdale needed this. I could withstand not seeing him for three whole weeks. Right? And how could I put my burning need for him before the needs of millions? Though I’d considered it many, many, many times. “I like lying to you. It’s my favourite thing in the world.”
“I thought I was your favourite thing in the world.”
“Of course. But don’t tell Pipe I said that.”
He groaned, holding me close. “I’m never leaving again. It’s fucking unbearable. Waking up without you. Going to sleep without you. It’s the most unbearable torture I’ve been subjected to.” His hand came to my stomach, moving back and forth. “Did my son give you any trouble?”
“He’s been good. Considering that he’s about the size of a bell pepper, there’s not much mortal damage he can cause.”
A knock briefly hit the doors before Piper poked her head in.
“You’re back!” she screamed, but her smile turned into a grimace as she looked between the two of us.
“You two are too old to go around smelling like sex,” she hushedly hissed, pointing at my stomach.
“As if you both weren’t already embarrassing me enough.
What do I tell people when they ask me why my geriatric parents are having a baby?
It’s not like you’ll be able to hide it for much longer. ”
“You tell them to mind their own fucking business,” Logan said, dropping on my chair and pulling me into his lap, his hand cradling my stomach. “Hi, sweetheart. How have you been?”
“Just fine.” She tugged at her hair with frustration, peeking a glance outside before she said, “Dad, please. Not here. Keep your hands off my professor. Please!”
“I’ll fuck your mother whenever I want to.”
Her palms slapped her ears. “Saints, Saints, Saints! Alright, alright. Shhhh!”
Dropping my head against his shoulder, I laughed. Hard.
She sighed. “Theodora came by to say that we’re having roast capon for dinner. How’s the wee creature feeling on the subject?”
I patted a hand on my stomach. “He’s fine with it.”
She threw a hand up in the air. “Great. Because if I have to eat saddle of sutton five days in a damn row because his highness can’t stomach anything but lamb, I might just start chewing on my toenails.
” She pointed at us before she left. “Be home at five or I’m starting without you and feeding all your portion to Tommy.
And hands off my professor. You already ruined everything. She’s done for. Done!”
Logan chuckled. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”
She slammed the door shut, and I laid against him with my head on his shoulder. “Hey, lover,” I whispered, circling my fingers over his heart, letting the slow thud lull me into a deep, safe slumber.
He kissed my brow. “Sweet dreams, honey.”
And they were sweet. Kind. Peaceful. They always were when he held me.
The end.