Epilogue
Erryn
The bedroom was quiet when I stepped inside, the early morning light spilling through the tall windows in soft grey ribbons that stretched across the floorboards and climbed lazily up the walls.
The house still had that faintly unfamiliar feel to it.
The subtle difference in the way sound carried, the smell of fresh wood and paint lingering beneath the quiet hum of the heating, but it was beginning to feel like ours.
Two cups of coffee warmed my hands as I crossed the room to where Helena stood naked in front of the enormous mirror opposite the bed, bare feet planted against the dark rug, her back to me as she studied her reflection.
The scar cut across the side of her abdomen in an uneven line, a reminder of how close I came to losing her.
The pale skin of the scar was still slightly raised against the smooth bronze of the rest of her body.
It had healed well, all things considered, but it was still new enough that the mark caught the light differently when she moved.
She traced it absently with the tips of her fingers, her head tilting slightly as she did.
“It’s ugly,” she said finally.
I set the coffee down on the dresser without answering and crossed the room, stopping just behind her before sliding my arms around her waist. The warmth of her skin bled instantly into mine as I pulled her gently back against me, my hands settling over her stomach where the scar curved beneath my fingers.
“You realize,” I murmured, kissing her shoulder, “that most people who survive being stabbed tend to consider a scar a success?”
She huffed softly, though her gaze stayed fixed on the mirror and my hands now tracing her skin. My fingers moved slowly across the mark, the touch deliberate and unhurried as I traced the line of it the same way she had a moment earlier.
“How did the meeting go?” she asked, leaning further into my touch.
“Well,” I murmured. “Vitale will assume the Chair in Rome next month, Boucher is going to swear them in officially to give me time to replace the agents I lost here, and then the Head will choose a suitable Chair for Washington.”
Helena hummed as my hands slid up her body to cup her breasts, watching their progress in the mirror.
“And Theo?”
I stilled, my lips finding her neck as I thought for a moment. It was still a volatile topic in my own mind, and we had not discussed her yet.
“Octavia kept to her word,” I said after a moment.
“The systems are clean, and everything is running as anticipated. I chose not to disclose the failsafe she implemented.” I kissed her shoulder gently.
“Speaking of Theo, I have a powder blue Beetle listed in the company costs that I did not authorize. Care to explain?”
Helena’s eyes met mine in the mirror, a faint smirk on her face.
“She needed a vehicle and you were caught up with a mutiny.”
I tweaked her nipple, and she jumped, letting out a breathy laugh.
“I don’t like that she holds the failsafe over you,” she said, and I hummed in agreement, my lips trailing the soft skin from her shoulder to neck.
“Octavia Vanguard is the most talented hacker I have ever seen,” I said. “If I cannot kill her, I would be a fool not to utilize her before someone else does.”
Helena tilted her head, allowing me greater access. “She comes with a psycho bodyguard.”
“So do I,” I whispered, nipping at her neck.
Helena moaned, taking my hands and guiding them lower, her attention focused on the mirror as my fingers trailed down to slide through the arousal between her thighs.
“Now, now,” I scolded softly, running a light fingertip over her already swollen clit. “You are not meant to do anything strenuous for two more weeks.
“Fuck the rules,” she said, pressing my hand harder against her, “I want my wife’s fingers inside me.”
I slid my free hand to her neck, my fingers tangling in the chain she never took off, squeezing as I met her gaze in the mirror.
Fuck I was never going to get enough of that word.
“I’m not your wife yet,” I teased, slipping my fingers either side of her clit in the way that always sent her feral. “We haven’t even discussed our surname name yet.”
“We can settle that at the gun range,” she said, the tip of a canine showing as she smirked at me in the mirror.
“On your knees, baby,” I murmured, my hand tightening around her throat until she groaned softly, getting wetter by the second.
She sank down, and I settled behind her.
“Wider,” I murmured in her ear, watching as she obediently spread her knees wider to give us both a clear view of what my fingers were doing. “Look how wet you are for me,” I said, teasing her clit in maddeningly slow strokes. “That’s my perfect girl.”
Her gaze was locked on my fingers, a small crease between her brow as she tried to focus, her breath picking up.
“Slowly now,” I warned, holding her in place by her neck as I slid my fingers back and pressed into her.
Helena moaned, her body gripping me as I angled my fingers and rubbed them hard against her G-spot.
She let out a strangled gasp, tilting her hips to better the angle as I nipped the side of her neck.
“I fucking love the feel of you,” I murmured, groaning involuntarily as her body gripped my fingers tighter, her breath hitching.
I slid my gaze to the mirror, watching as I pulled my glistening fingers out slowly, gliding them to her clit and stroking it with firm pressure as her thighs began to shake.
“Whenever you’re ready, my love,” I whispered.
She came almost immediately, my name on her lips as she soaked the ground beneath us, my lips at her neck, right over her hammering pulse.
Her head fell back on my shoulder as I readjusted my grip, sliding my arms around her waist and holding her to me. I watched us in the mirror as she slowly recovered, tracing shapes over her soft skin and down over her scar, the memory of the wound that nearly took her from me.
Her hand covered mine and our eyes met in the mirror, the flush still high in her cheeks as she smirked at me.
“Is that all you got?”