Epilogue
Scarlett
Time passes in a comfortable ebb and flow. There were hard moments while I was recovering—times when it seemed like I’d never regain my motor skills. Times when I wanted to give up because my body fought against me.
Greyson was my rock through every difficult second. He dealt with my mood swings, breakdowns, and struggle against myself. He held me when I screamed that I hated him, and sobbed that I loved him. He’s been the embodiment of patience every second of every day, not leaving my side even for a moment.
The first month of recovery was the worst. Migraines, sudden losses of consciousness, difficulty functioning as a basic human.
The second was the true test of recovery as Max helped me through regaining control of my body and finding my strength again.
The third has been much more smooth sailing…
despite a confrontation with Cain and a ritual I wasn’t terrifically excited about.
Cain evidently had some bullshit trials in mind for me—part of this archaic old tradition of Chosens. I told him point-blank I’d blow up this fucking fortress, starting with the headquarters I saved, if he put me through anything more than he already has.
He looked at me like he might kill me, but relented, and only insisted that I complete the binding ritual with Greyson.
It was small and intimate—not quite like a wedding, but close enough.
Vows between my Monster and I were exchanged in front of my brother and, unfortunately, Cain. Max was there, too.
Which brings me to this moment… Greyson’s version of a celebration.
It doesn’t feel particularly celebratory to me; it feels like a test of endurance, of mental and physical fortitude. Greyson was extremely careful with me up until the last two weeks—any sex we had was gentle and soft. He treated me like a delicate flower, which I grew sick of pretty quickly.
He must’ve rewired my brain, because now, sex that isn’t passionate or somewhat kinky doesn’t do it for me anymore—barring the rare exceptions where Grey holds me close and tells me he loves me while pounding into me like he hates me.
Now, the morning after our official ritual and vow exchange, he’s set aside several hours to torture me… and if I was allowed to speak, I’d tell him I hate him in every way I know.
“Don’t like the predicament?” Monster mocks lightly, tilting his head as he watches me. “You literally asked for it, Scarlett. For several weeks straight. But I guess reality can sometimes temper the power of fantasy, can’t it?”
I glare daggers at him, holding back a whimper as the slightest twitch of my head jostles the hook in my ass.
The nerve endings in all my erogenous zones are firing.
My nipples are stuck in suction cups… as is my clit.
My arms and legs are tied to the bedposts of our bed, a pillow’s resting under my hips, and the hook is attached to my collar.
I literally woke up to Greyson chaining me up, and warning me not to make a single noise or he’d punish me.
With how vulnerable my body is right now… I’m not eager to risk his wrath. He could do any number of torturous things to me, and I have absolutely no power to fight back.
“Anything to say?” he taunts. “Oh, wait… I told you not to make a sound. What a shame.”
Bastard. A slight growl rumbles up from my chest… and when Greyson’s eyes light up, I know I’m in trouble.
He stands from his seat in the corner of the room and approaches the bed with slow, predatory steps. My breaths turn to shuddering gasps as he stops beside me, and trails his index finger up my torso, eyes gleaming with something malevolent.
“My pretty little captive,” he whispers. “My precious Flower. I can do anything I want to you, and you won’t be able to stop me. Like… this.” He pulls one of the suction cups off my nipple, and it feels like the wind’s been knocked out of me as all the blood rushes back to my nipple.
Then, he does it to the other one, and I can’t hold back a cry.
“Bad girl,” he admonishes… and flicks the cup on my clit. That’s when I realize that he’s set me up for failure; that he planned on having fun punishing me, and all of my protests to the gentle sex we’ve been having have led me to this moment.
Goddamnit. One of these days I’ll learn to shut my big mouth… just not today.
“Hmm. Someone’s just begging to be punished, aren’t they?” Greyson asks, using his dom-tone. He presses the side of the suction cup with his thumb, creating an unbearable pressure, while sliding three fingers inside me.
“Fucking. Drenched,” he growls. “Do you know how swollen your pretty little clit will be when I set it free?” he whispers.
“It’s going to suck for you… and be so much fun for me to play with.
You’ll writhe, jostling the hook in your ass.
You’ll cry, giving me reason to play harder.
And you’re going to come as many times as I want you to come… won’t you?”
His fingers curl against my g-spot while his thumb presses the cup harder… until it pops off, falling to the side.
And Greyson’s prediction is proved true when I scream.
If I thought having those things on my nipples was hard, the sensation that courses through my clit is completely unbearable.
It pulses and aches. It’s so sensitive, even the feeling of air against it is too much.
Tears stream down my cheeks and I wriggle and arch, pulling the hook in my ass, which makes me sob in turn.
It's too much. The stimulation all compounds, clearing my brain of all thought and leaving me a mindless, writhing, crying mess.
“Oops,” Greyson murmurs. “Well. Looks like you failed, Scarlett. Now, I’m feeling just a touch magnanimous… so I’ll only require one orgasm from you before I unbind you and fuck your brains out. But I won’t be nice about how I get it from you.”
He pulls a tiny bullet vibrator out of his pocket, and I sob.
“Please, not with that,” I moan, shaking my head, then yelping as the hook shifts around in my ass. “Fingers—cock—not a toy. I can’t take it. Please, Monster.”
He cocks his head to the side. “What gave you the impression you have any say in the matter?”
A low, terrifying buzz fills the air… and the moment he presses the vibrator to my clit, I go up in flames.
My orgasm is instant and consuming. It’s so powerful it’s outright painful, but the agony is the most exquisitely, horrifically wonderful sensation I’ve ever felt.
Greyson growls at me through my orgasm, calling me his good girl, his precious Flower, his favorite little slut…
and he keeps the vibrator on me and fingers curled against my g-spot until I come a second time.
Finally, he takes it off. I pant, crying, wondering how the hell I’ll ever come back to earth after being sent into outer fucking space with that orgasm. I’m only half coherent as he unbinds me, flips me over, and pulls me to my hands and knees.
He wraps his hand around the chain connecting the hook to my necklace, and tugs it as he slides his hard, thick cock inside me.
I drop to my elbows and scream into the mattress. I beg for mercy, but he’s merciless.
“Mine,” he growls, punctuating his claim with a punishing thrust. “Mine forever. Do you understand, Scarlett? There’s no running from us. No escaping us. You belonged to me from the first moment I saw you.” He leans over me and whispers in my ear, “Just like I belong to you.”
I go off again, convulsing as I come, and Greyson’s pulled over the edge with me.
He’s careful as he pulls the hook out of my ass, takes off my necklace, and gathers me in his arms, holding me tight to his chest. My eyes flutter, and I’m caught in a half-awake, half-asleep state for a long time.
Contentment, even happiness settles over me like the warmest blanket as I cuddle with my Monster, feeling adored and treasured.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He tilts my chin up with two fingers and presses a kiss to my lips. “I love you more,” he responds, kissing me again.
We stay like that for a long time. Twined together, exchanging vows of love, kissing… until the shrill ring of a phone cuts through our moment.
Greyson growls in irritation. I lift my head from his chest as he picks up his phone from the night stand and checks the caller ID. Swearing under his breath, he says, “It’s Max. He must be back from his op.”
That returns some of my coherency. Max has been out for the last week on a complicated hit job; one that, apparently, several other operatives have failed to carry out. The guy he went after has had a hit out on him for years, but nobody’s succeeded in ending his life.
If Max is back, he must’ve. But… why is he calling Greyson?
“What?” Greyson growls, picking up the phone. In an instant, his demeanor changes. His expression turns tense. His eyes widen at whatever Max says. I hear a beep as the call disconnects, and Greyson abruptly sets me aside and stands up from the bed.
“I have to go check on Max,” he says, going over to the dresser and pulling out clothes. “Shit’s going down.”
Worry tightens my chest, and I sit up, ignoring the delicious soreness between my legs. “What’s going on?”
Greyson shakes his head. “I… I’m not sure.”
The worry in his tone spurs me into action. “I’m coming with you.” I stumble out of bed, also grabbing clothes and haphazardly pulling them on.
Greyson doesn’t argue with me, but these days, he seldom does. I have more freedom than most of the operatives in the compound—I even have permission to leave the fortress for vacations, though I haven’t taken that liberty yet.
Greyson takes my hand. Together, we take the elevator to the first floor, and I follow him to the entrance hall with quickened steps.
There, my heart sinks at the sight that greets me.
Max stands in the center of the hall, surrounded by a semi-circle of Nighthawks. His clothes are shredded, there are blood splatters and what look like claw marks on his cheeks. There are also char marks covering his bare arms… but that’s not what makes my chest tighten.
On the floor beside him is a woman. She’s beautiful—raven-black hair, glittering blue eyes, gorgeous features and full lips that are parted around a gag.
Her hands are bound behind her back. Her hair is fisted in Max’s hand.
Her calculated, furious gaze sweeps around the room, and I think she might be planning on killing every person she sets eyes on.
Greyson stops dead beside me, also frozen with shock.
“What the fuck?” Greyson snaps.
“Op failed,” Max says, using his free hand to wipe some blood beneath his nose. “Dagon is still alive, but seriously wounded.”
“Max,” Greyson says carefully. “I don’t care about the op right now. Presently, I’m wondering who the fuck the girl is?”
“The woman who almost succeeded in killing me.” Max looks down at the girl, eyes glittering with something that can only be described as possession.
Maybe a hint of obsession. “And my chosen.” He looks back at Grey, his glare daring Greyson to disagree.
“I choose her. She’s mine.” He pauses, sweeping a dangerous gaze over everyone gathered here.
“And anyone who tries to stop me better be ready to die.”