Epilogue
mother knows best.
— gus
It’s mid-June, almost twelve years to the day that I first looked into Ashton Morgan’s purple eyes and my raccoon instantly decided he belonged to her.
It’s also been close to a month since I found his ‘dead’ body in a dumpster, and after everything that happened, it’s like my life has finally become normal again.
No. Not normal.
Better.
These days, I have a bonded mate who lives with me above my junk shop.
We share one room together—that’s as spartan as it was before Ash moved in—while I gave him the spare room to turn into his own library.
His car might have been packed with so many boxes of his favorites (enough that Crystal was able to hide among them easily without being spotted), plus all of the sweaters and buttondowns and pressed pants in his wardrobe, I discovered he had hundreds more books back in Virginia.
As a mating gift, I arranged for Dale from the community center to build me wall-to-wall bookshelves for Ash’s personal library.
Turns out, the beaver shifter was one of the prey shifters who ate a brownie before I called with the message to throw them out.
Because he was too nervous to go near any wolf shifter until the magic gave him the nerve, he followed his nose to pack territory and discovered that Angie, a maternal delta wolf who worked with young pups, was his fated mate.
Angie is seven inches taller than Dale and a predator, but he’s so thrilled with his new mate that he did the project just for the cost of the wood and nails as a thank you for baking the brownies that led him to her.
Even better, Dale’s best friend, Mort, has a sister who works at Moonburrow Library.
When he heard that the shelves were for my hopeful librarian, he arranged for Ash to have an interview with the head librarian.
As of last week, he’s started in their archival department, specializing in the history of our supe town.
Honey’s returned as the sole owner and baker at Dough You Believe in Magic.
I still pop in habitually, but after the business boom she got while I kept the bakery open, I have a free pass to sample each and every one of her wares.
Of course, I filch them anyway because, well, raccoon, but the thought’s there—and I definitely appreciate it.
It’s not just the treats that has me heading over to the bakery.
In the last month, Gus has officially adopted me into his clan.
Me, Ash, Honey, Max… Riordan. We belong to Gus as his cousin, his brother, his mother, and his wolves, and if I bring a couple of hardboiled eggs with me to sneak to the wily opossum, no I didn’t.
Gus isn’t just Gus anymore, though. Ever since he helped me take down Olivia Frost, everyone in Moonburrow has taken to referring to him as Deputy Gus.
Instead of shutting them down, Max went and had a Gus-sized deputy badge made for him.
Honey pinned it to a collar that Gus wears proudly around his neck, and when Gus catches me snagging a croissant from the display case when Honey isn’t looking, he taps his claws against the tin badge.
Of course, I just have to split the croissant in half and share it with him and I’m off the hook.
More than ever, I’m Roxy Kane. I worked with the local coven to sell a bulk of the charmed items in my shop at a discount.
That netted us more than enough to be set for a couple of months, and now that Ash has a paycheck of his own coming in, I’ve taken a break from operating the store until I replace my stock.
That means—you guessed it—I’m back to dumpster-diving.
And this time? I have a partner.
“Rox? I found another fork.”
Without even stopping my own digging, I call out, “Normal fork or cursed fork?”
Ash hesitates. “There’s a difference? You just told me we were looking for forks.”
“Normal forks are weird to scavenge, even for me. Cursed forks are worth fifty bucks a pop. Can you imagine a fork that jabs you in the cheek or goes ting off your teeth whenever you take a bite?”
Ash pops his head up from his side of the dumpster. “Ting?”
I nod. “Ting.”
He lifts his hand, ghosting his finger over his teeth as if he really is taking a moment to imagine the chill going down his spine whenever he hits the metal of a fork tine against his tooth.
Unlike me, he’s wearing a pair of latex gloves to protect his hands.
I’m satisfied with wipes and hand sanitizer, but if all it takes is gloves to get my preppy, well-dressed mate into the trash with me, I couldn’t care less.
Hell, put him in a hazmat suit. Knowing he’s happy to spend time with me after his shift at the library ends, digging through a stinky dumpster while I’m looking for something to add to my shop… that’s fucking priceless.
In his other hand, he’s holding a fork. “How can I tell if it’s cursed?”
I shrug, not even bothering to hide my impish grin. “Does it whisper menacing things to you? Does it have runes carved into it?”
Ash scrutinizes the fork.
I bark out a laugh, clutching my belly, arm tucked under my tits.
“Alpha help me, I didn’t think you’d actually believe that!
Ash, baby, no. There’s no such thing as a cursed fork.
” As far as I can tell, at least. “These forks are high-end, ninety-five percent silver. Too dangerous for shifters to eat with, but I got a tip that a recently deceased witch kept them to stab any shifter that got too close. Her granddaughter thought that was ridiculous and she had them tossed with most of the woman’s belongings. ”
Ash marvels over the fork. “Stabbing shifters? Sounds like a cursed fork to me.”
Yeah. He’s probably right.
“And they’re worth a good hundred bucks each if we sell them to the right buyer. Maybe three hundred if we sell them to the wrong one.”
He drops the fork into the tote he now carries with him while we’re doing our dives together. “I think it would be best to go with the right buyer.”
I blow him a kiss. “That’s why I keep you around. You keep me honest.”
Ash wades through the trash. He doesn’t touch me with his hands, but he hugs me to him with his elbow before dropping a kiss to the top of my head. “You keep me around because you love me.”
I nuzzle his chest, breathing in his scent of deep woods and bergamot. “Can’t deny that.”
“And because I love you.”
I nip his collarbone. “You better.”
He groans, moving into me, and if it we weren’t in a fucking dumpster, I might just give him something else to groan about.
And then Ash murmurs against my hair, “I don’t have to keep you honest, Rox. You’re the most honest, forthright, loyal soul I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. And I’m the luckiest bastard alive because I get to call you mine.”
No arguments from me or my raccoon.
“How many forks have you found?” I murmur against his skin. “I have four.”
“Unh… I… oh, that feels good… three?”
“Are you sure or are you guessing?”
“My gorgeous mate is about to make me come in my jeans and you want me to remember how many forks I picked out of the trash?”
I shove my knee between his legs, bumping my thigh against his obvious erection. “Mm-hmm.”
Ash shudders. “Three. Definitely three.”
Blowing a breath on his skin, enjoying the way his knees buckle and he digs himself deeper into the trash bags, I tell him, “Pity. The set had eight. We’re still missing one.”
“I’ll find it. Just… don’t move yet.”
I grab Ash by his sweater, tugging him until you couldn’t slip a sheet of paper between us. My boobs squash against his chest, the motion has him riding my knee, and when he grunts, I’m almost sure he did just spill in his pants.
That’s so fucking hot. Everyone in Moonburrow knows that Ashton Morgan is my mate. He has my bite on his throat, and I’d be thrilled to show off the come stain on his jeans because he lost control around me. I may be a prey shifter, but I’m as possessive as any predator.
And this male is mine.
“You sure?” I coo, using my nails to scratch his side. “You really don’t want me to move?”
His voice is ragged and deep as he gasps, “You can do whatever you want, Rox.”
I usually do.
So maybe the dumpster behind the care facility for elderly supes isn’t the best place in Moonburrow to have a little action with your mate. And it’s probably not a great idea that you mentioned to Honey that you’d planned on checking it out on your way to the weekly flea market in Foxtown.
And maybe I should’ve remembered that the care facility is only three blocks away from Dough You Believe in Magic…
“I might be mated to the sheriff, but if someone reports you two for mating in a dumpster of all places, I’m going to ask Max to go ahead and book you for indecent exposure. A dumpster? Do you know how gross that is?”
Does Honey know that, when your mate is a sexy librarian who wants you so badly, he’s willing to hump you in a dumpster that even the most hygienic raccoon doesn’t give a shit that it’s gross?
She has a point, though. And her sudden appearance definitely puts a damper on my mood. So, after one last kiss to Ash’s chest, I step away and give Honey a finger wave. “Hey, Hon. If you ever need any tips on how to spice up your sex life with the sheriff, you just let us know.”
Ash’s pale cheeks are stained with red. The way he crouches just enough to hide his crotch from his cousin tells me that I might’ve accomplished my goal after all. “Honey? What are you doing here?”
“Judging us,” I answer for her.
He glances at me. Glances at Honey. Smiles at me. “She’s definitely judging us.”
Honey rolls her purple eyes. “You know, when you first told me that you two were fated mates, I thought there had to be some kind of mistake. Now I know I was wrong. You two are perfect for each other.”
“What’s the matter, Honey? You didn’t think I was good enough for your cousin?”