Epilogue
Five Months Later
ARC
Chrys looks at me with wide eyes and can you believe she’s gotten worse? as her mother screeches at them over the comm.
The three sisters sit on our couch, trying to calm their mother down. It’s become somewhat of a tradition.
I’m not sure how Jessica did it, but a few months ago, she reprogrammed our comms—and theirs, and Richter and Laurel’s—to mute when the person on the other end of the line hit a certain decibel.
She did it for Trench’s sake, but I am very happy to benefit from it.
She calls, threatens to come visit, and eventually they remind her of all the reasons she doesn’t actually want to cross two galaxies, and then they try to console her with the weeuns… but that just makes her adamant that she will find a way to come meet her four grandchildren eventually.
Shock and Risk sit on the floor with our sons burbling between them while Kissu watches them like a silent guard.
I stand near the window, rocking our daughter and ignoring the irritated glances their mother sends our way.
“She hasn’t gone in on Jess about not having a weeun yet this time,” Trench says, wiggling a finger at his niece. “I wonder if she lost her script.”
“She hasn’t accused me of hiding her granddaughter from her yet, either. Maybe it’s just going to be a longer call than usual.”
Jessica turns to glare at me, and I remember that Trench isn’t the only one whose ears are too sharp for their own good.
Laurel has sat back against the couch and is making ooey gooey noises at her son, completely ignoring her mother and sisters trying to appease her.
Trench asks, “Are you going to grow up big and strong like your daddy? Or able to do back flips like your mommy?”
A whisper of a thought finds a foothold in my mind. “She’s not going to be a guinea pig.”
Trench’s brows pinch. “I don’t know what that is.”
“You don’t get to run tests on her. Not on any of them.”
“Of course not. I am not him.” He smiles at her when she makes a fussy noise. “If we can’t find the answer in the data, we won’t find it at all.”
He looks out across the caldera, past our old outpost to the one we can barely see and his thoughts turn dark. But the outpost is never quiet enough for rumination.
The call disconnects and Chrys folds all the way forward. “Jesus Christ. One of these days, she is going to wind up on our doorstep, dragging Dad along with her.”
Richter goes to Laurel, picking up their son and pretending to toss him into the air over his head. The weeun never leaves his hand, but giggles profusely. “Riann has actually come up with a way that they could move here if they wanted.”
Three emphatic voices yell “NO” at once.
“I told him we weren’t going to give them that option.” Richter looks at me. Sometimes it’s just fun to make them panic.
I didn’t realize he was a sadist.
As always, Jess stands up from their interrogation and slaps her thighs. “I’ve worked up an appetite, let’s eat.”
Kissu bats the playpen to the table and Jess watches him. “I know it’s not what I imagine, but sometimes, when he sits there watching them, it feels like they’re fish in a bowl and he’s hungry.”
“That definitely isn’t what it is.” Chrys pauses to drop a kiss to the top of his head. “He’s their guardian now. And honestly, he’s the best baby monitor in the universe.”
Laurel puts her son in a high chair beside her, and Trench and Richter ferry the plates to the table as we all sit. And I can’t help but glance at the dark slash of our old outpost out the window.
It was a cold prison we didn’t know we’d locked ourselves into… This is a home.
Chrys takes my hand and squeezes. Our home.
But her smile fades a moment later.
“There’s a storm coming.” She glances out the window behind us at the clear sky and then looks to Shock. “How long do we have?”
“An hour and a half before it hits us. Two for you.” He looks at Trench. “But another part of it is reaching around the opposite side of the caldera. You should probably leave now.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Laurel says sarcastically, and starts to get their son ready to go.
“You were looking for an excuse to leave,” I remind her. “Go home and get cozy.”
We still haven’t figured out exactly what temperature the outpost needs to be when we have guests.
“We’ll help clean up and get out of here too,” Trench says, reassuring Richter that the two of them can leave without pitching in.
Even with six of us, there are too many people, and I tell them to go away too. Jess says goodbye to Chrys and hurries to the door, but she does spare a sharp thought for me.
A reminder I’ve heard several times. You’re still on thin ice.
I ignore it. “Drive safe.”
And when we’re alone again, I let out a breath I was very aware I was holding.
“They’re not that bad,” Risk says as he hands Shock’s weeun to him.
“No, they’re not. But I’m still glad they’re gone.”
“We all are.” Chrys pushes up onto her toes and kisses me on the cheek. “Family is exhausting. But I’m very happy we have them.”
She squeezes my hand and looks at Risk, who has our daughter in his arms, offering her to me. “I think it’s nap time.”
None of us have to speak to agree.
The weeuns sleep best when it storms.
Their nursery is across the hall from ours, in a room with no windows. We removed the Lasap doors the previously unwanted tenants had installed.
Three beds that remind me too much of cages line the wall, but I lay her down and watch her for a moment.
Keep safe.
Kissu always does. “Thank you.”
He lays down beside the cribs, purring soft and low as they fuss and finally settle.
Risk picks Chrys up and Shock grabs my hand, pulling me in close. “You know the rules.”
The rules—the rule in question—say we nap when the weeuns nap.
Someday, we’ll follow that rule as it was intended.
Today isn’t that day.
Shock walks behind me into our room, one hand on my stomach, holding me back and steering me at the same time.
He stops us three feet from the bed, hand sliding up beneath my shirt. Look at our mates.
I laugh and tell him, “I’m looking.”
Risk has slid Chrys’ pants off and tossed them away. Her bright blue underwear peeks out from beneath her fuzzy hot pink sweater.
Last week her doctor told her she was cleared to have sex again, but she’s not ready and we are never going to push her, so Risk does what we’ve done every time we wind up in this bed. He kisses her senseless and then sets her back into the pillows before looking at us with a fiendish smile.
“Your turn,” Shock whispers against my throat, nipping my skin before he pulls my shirt off and tugs off my pants as well.
Chrys reaches out her hands for me, making little clapping sounds as she opens and closes them.
And I go to her.
I murmur against her lips. Tell her exactly how much we love her.
I don’t know how much she understands, but I know she’s very well aware.
The click of a lube bottle opening makes me glance back at Shock, standing behind Risk.
I’m not going to be happy until all three of you have come.
Chrys’ thoughts wander through my own and I turn back to her, taking her lips with my own. Making you happy is so easy.
She laughs against my lips, and I slip my hand beneath her sweater. Her skin is soft, and she twitches as my fingers coast along her.
The laughter in our bond doesn’t reach her lips.
“Tomorrow,” she says softly. “Tomorrow, we can go back to normal.”
I drop my forehead and nod. “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”
My mates can have everything they want.
Which is why I ease back from her and let Shock take my place.
Lips twisted in a sly smile, Shock moves behind her and drags her up his body, leaning her against him so she can watch…
The instructions in his mind are clear enough, and Risk is waiting.
The bottle of lube rests next to his knee, and I use it liberally. Slicking myself and him as well, even though Shock did a thorough job.
Don’t be shy.
If Risk wasn’t facing away from me, he’d have seen my eyes roll. He can goad Shock into fucking him rough and ragged… I prefer to make him work for it.
There’s nothing rough and ragged about what Shock is doing now.
Arms wrapped around Chrys, he kisses the sparkles at her throat, and she eases her legs apart.
All three of them are perfect. But Risk’s head is pressed to the mattress as he waits. That won’t do.
I reach forward, gently wrapping my hand beneath his chin and ease his head up. “You’re here for us,” I remind him. “Not for the bed.”
He stares straight ahead, and Shock meets my eyes. He’s such a good boy.
I almost hear it in Chrys’ teasing voice.
But he is being good, and he deserves to get what he wants.
Risk exhales as I enter him, like he’s making room… but his ass is still so tight my eyes cross.
“Saints,” he hisses as I pull back.
None of us tell him he should be used to this by now. We all love that he isn’t.
When I start to work into him in earnest, he drops his head, snapping it back up a moment later as he remembers to do as he was told.
Hand stroking his own cock, he kisses Chrys’ calf, tongue flicking out to tease the spider tattooed there.
Shock’s hand works circles beneath the blue fabric, and Chrys tips her head back onto his shoulder, her eyes remaining on us. Heavy and lustful, her thoughts make my abdomen clench with need.
They set my imagination ablaze, placing her next to Risk, Shock beside me. We’ll fuck them like that, soon.
For right now, she has to settle for fingers and watching.
Hips rocking to meet each thrust, Risk fucks me just as much as I fuck him. I let him have as much control as he wants. I let him drive himself mindless until that familiar floating sensation flickers at the edges of my vision.
My orgasm hits me like a familiar freight train, and I pour myself into him, shuddering through each moment of release.
The others’ breathing has gone ragged, and I know that Risk is close.
I pull him upright, holding his arms back so he can’t reach his cock, and fuck him the way I know makes him crazy.
I fuck him until he’s completely out of control.
He comes like a fountain, a dark stream arcing onto the bed, between Chrys’ spread legs, and he groans while cursing me in his thoughts.
Mouth open, eyes closed, Risk jerks through the end of his orgasm until all that’s left is beads of dark cum dribbling down his cock.
He drops his head back onto my shoulder, and his voice cracks when he says, “I fucking love you.”
Love. There’s so much of it in this room… I don’t know how I thought I could ever live without it.