Epilogue
Raiden
Eight Months Later
Mrs. Elodie Sharpe.
The title still catches me off guard sometimes.
Not because it happened too quickly. Because it happened exactly when it was supposed to.
Spring break. A small ceremony. Just us, our families’ memories, the guys, Nadia, Sarah, and two empty chairs at the front that Elodie insisted on.
Four days on a beach in Destin afterward, where we drank too much and made a list.
“You’re staring again.”
I smile. “I’ve been caught.”
Elodie laughs without looking up from the box she’s packing. “You know, normal husbands usually help.”
“I offered.”
“You also reorganized one of my bookshelves.”
“It looked inefficient.”
She rolls her eyes. “It was organized alphabetically.”
“It can be both alphabetical and practical.”
“It was practical.”
“It wasn’t.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “I married a control freak.”
“You married a man with standards.”
She points a marker at me. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
I walk over and take the marker from her before slipping it into the supply box. “There. Finished?”
She looks around the classroom. Every bulletin board has been striped clean. Tiny chairs sit stacked in neat rows. Construction paper projects have long since been sent home with proud students. Summer vacation has officially begun.
“I think so.” She exhales happily. “My second year complete already.”
“You’ve become famous.”
She smiles. “Hardly.”
“The parents disagree. So do your students,” I point out.
“They’re biased.”
“They adore you.”
A faint blush colors her cheeks. “I adore them too.”
I know. I’ve watched enough school pickups to see it for myself. Children wave excitedly whenever they spot her. Parents stop her every afternoon to thank her. The neighborhood has changed over the past several months. Drake’s disappearance created a ripple effect none of us anticipated.
Without him controlling the area through fear and intimidation, other criminals scattered. It isn’t perfect. Not even close. But people walk the streets a little easier now. Businesses stay open later. Children play longer outside after school.
Progress.
Teddy Krane finished the year in this room.
His mother sat in the front row at the spring concert and cried through all four songs.
Afterward, she found Elodie by the door and held onto her hand a long time without saying anything at all.
She didn’t need to. The boy starts first grade in the fall, right down the hall, and somewhere in the last few months he started talking loudly enough that Elodie has to remind him about indoor voices.
We gave him his mother back. Elodie’s the reason he’s noisy.
And no one bothers Elodie anymore. Partly because she’s loved. Partly because people have learned that being married to Raiden Sharpe isn’t something to test.
She slips her hand into mine. “Ready?”
“I’m always ready.”
She smiles knowingly. “No, you’re not.”
Before I can ask what she means, she kisses my cheek. “I’ll meet you at home.”
“You’ll what?”
“I need to stop somewhere.”
“I’ll come.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“I’ll still come.”
She reaches up and straightens my collar. “I’ll be fine.”
She knows I’m still protective. She also knows I’ve never really stopped following her. The only difference now is that she knows I do it. Occasionally, she even turns around halfway home just to wave at me from across the street.
I pretend it annoys me. It doesn’t. Not even a little.
“See you soon.” She heads toward the front entrance.
I wait exactly thirty seconds before following. She’s my obsession, and I’m her stalker. Some habits don’t deserve breaking. She walks at her usual pace, humming softly to herself. I keep enough distance that anyone watching would assume we’re strangers.
She turns onto the next block, then disappears into a small sandwich shop. I stop across the street. She’ll probably be five minutes. Ten minutes pass, and she doesn’t come back out. That’s odd. I never saw a rear entrance. I pull out my phone and open the tracking app. Nothing.
I frown and refresh. Still nothing. Her location has disappeared. I stop walking and chuckle, knowing she’s turned it off. The little menace. She’s done something similar before. Once, she hid in the supply closet at the tattoo shop just to surprise me.
River laughed for a week. I was less amused. She’s probably slipped out another exit. Planning to surprise me at home. I shake my head. My wife is becoming entirely too clever. I pocket my phone and head toward the shop.
Halfway there, I pass a narrow alley. Hands suddenly grab me from both sides.
“What the—”
Someone throws a hood over my head. Another pair of hands catches my wrists. Instinct takes over. I drive an elbow backward, connecting with something solid. Someone curses before my arms are wrenched together, a zip tie secured around my wrists.
A familiar voice laughs. “Still fast.”
River.
Someone’s hand lands on my shoulder. “You done?”
Roman.
“No.”
Finally, Royal says calmly, “Please don’t break my nose this time.”
Realization dawns. “You idiots.”
They march me down the alley toward something I can’t see.
“I can walk.”
“We know.”
“So, why am I wearing a hood?”
“Because your wife insisted.”
I stop resisting. Elodie is the one person who could convince these three lunatics that kidnapping me is a good idea. A car door opens. Someone pushes me inside. The moment I sit down, a familiar scent reaches me.
Lavender and vanilla. The scent of home.
I sigh. “Freckles.”
Soft laughter answers me. The hood disappears. Blinking against the sunlight, I find Elodie sitting beside me, trying—and failing—not to laugh. She digs a pair of nail scissors out of her purse and works them under the zip tie at my wrists, tongue between her teeth, taking her time about it.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
She grins. “Not even a little.”
I rub my wrists. “You had my best friends kidnap me.”
“They didn’t kidnap you. Besides, it was temporary.” She smiles innocently. “I wanted to make sure you couldn’t escape.”
I shake my head in exasperation. “So, why all this?” I ask.
She exchanges a quick look with the others through the windshield. “Because getting you into the car wasn’t the difficult part.” She reaches for my hand. “Getting you onto a plane would’ve been.”
I blink. “A plane?”
She nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been trying to convince you to take time off for weeks, but you’ve been busy. So I asked the guys for help, and Nadia rescheduled all your appointments.”
The SUV starts moving, and I glance out the window to see the guys waving at us. I look back at Elodie, and she is practically bouncing in her seat. If getting me out of the country makes her this giddy, then I’m down for it.
“So, where are we going?” I ask.
She leans close enough that only I can hear. “I’m taking my husband to my birthplace. Ireland.”
For a second, I simply stare at her.
???
Elodie
The airport is buzzing with travelers by the time we arrive. Raiden still looks slightly bewildered. Every few minutes, he glances at me as if to make sure I’m real. When we reach our gate, the airline attendant smiles warmly as we board the plane.
The first-class cabin is hushed, the lights dimmed for the long flight ahead. I sink into the plush leather seat beside Raiden, still marveling that Royal bought these tickets and refused to discuss it. And the way the world seems to open up before us now that we are together.
After takeoff, Raiden reaches for my hand. “I have a confession.”
“Oh?”
“I spent the first five minutes wondering if River was hiding somewhere on the plane.”
I burst into laughter. “You really don’t trust them.”
He smiles. “I trust them. I just don’t trust their sense of humor.”
I lean my head against his shoulder. The steady rhythm of the engines fills the comfortable silence between us. I haven’t been back to Ireland since my parents died, and the thought of sharing it with Raiden fills me with a nervous excitement that has my leg bouncing against the seat.
Raiden notices, of course. His hand comes to rest on my knee, stilling me, and his thumb traces small circles against my inner thigh. “Excited?” he asks, his voice low.
“Nervous,” I admit. “Happy. Both.”
He smiles, that rare, genuine smile that transforms his face from beautiful to breathtaking. “Good.”
A few minutes later, once the seatbelt sign has dinged off and the flight attendants have retreated, Raiden stands. He reaches for my hand, pulling me to my feet with a gentle but insistent tug.
“Raiden,” I whisper, glancing around the nearly empty cabin. “What are you doing?”
He leans close, his breath warm against my ear, and what he says makes my face flame. “Checking something off our list, Freckles. Remember that bucket list we made in Destin? The one with all the things we wanted to try together?”
My blush deepens, spreading down my neck and chest as realization dawns. The mile high club.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice a dark promise. “Ready to be very, very quiet for me?”
I nod, my mouth dry, my heart hammering against my ribs. He leads me toward the lavatory, and I’m even more grateful for Royal’s gift because this bathroom is larger than any I’ve seen on a plane. Raiden locks the door behind us, and then his hands are on me.
He lifts my dress up over my hips, to my waist, and drags it up to my chest to bare me to him. I’m wearing the lingerie he chose for me this morning, a thin mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, and his eyes darken as he takes me in.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs.
And then his mouth is on my breast, sucking my nipple through the sheer fabric, his tongue hot and wet against the sensitive peak. I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders, and he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“Quiet,” he warns, his voice rough with authority. “You make a sound, I stop. Understand?”
The threat sends a pulse of heat straight to my core, and I feel myself growing wetter. My body responds to his command even as I bite my lip and nod. He reaches into his pocket, produces a silk scarf, and my eyes widen as he presses it against my mouth.
“I wanted to use it at home. But I guess it’s come in handy,” he says, his smile feral. “Bite down.”
I obey, tasting the silk, feeling the vulnerability of being gagged in a public place, at thirty thousand feet, where anyone could hear us if I’m not careful. The risk sends adrenaline singing through my veins.
Raiden drops to his knees before me. His hands slide up my thighs, hooking into the waistband of my thong. He drags it down my legs, helping me step out of it. Then he’s there, his mouth on me, his tongue delving into my folds with slow, deliberate strokes.
I bite down hard on the silk, my hands gripping the small sink behind me for support.
He licks and nips me patiently, and just as everything in me starts to gather and tighten, he stops.
Pulls back. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and rises to his full height.
The look he gives me says he felt exactly how close I was and took it away on purpose.
He takes my face in his hands, kisses me deep and thorough, and I taste myself on his tongue, musky and intimate. Then he’s turning me around, pressing my chest against the cool mirror, his hand between my shoulder blades.
“Arch your back,” he orders. “Let me see you.”
I obey, feeling the cool air against my heated skin, the vulnerability of my position. He gathers my wrists behind me, shackling them with one strong hand. And I feel the restraint like a brand, the loss of control that I’ve learned to trust him with completely.
He frees himself with his other hand, then he’s there, pressing against my entrance. He drives into me in one deep thrust that has my mouth opening around the gag in a silent scream. He fills me completely, stretching me perfectly.
He stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against my shoulder, his breathing ragged.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “So fucking good for me. So tight. So mine.”
Then he moves, and it isn’t gentle. It’s claiming, possessive. Each thrust drives me against the mirror. His free hand reaches around to pluck at my nipples, to strum my clit in relentless circles. I’m spiraling and climbing.
The combination of his cock inside me and his fingers on me and the knowledge that anyone could knock on that door at any moment pushes me higher and higher.
He pinches my clit, hard, and I come, shattering around him. My body convulses, my scream muffled by the silk. He follows, his hand leaving my wrists to grip my hips. His fingers dig in as he pounds into me once, twice, three more times, and then, he’s groaning, long and low.
He pulls out and finishes hot and thick across my ass, marking me, claiming me, even in this. He sags against me, his chest heaving, his mouth finding the nape of my neck, my shoulder, pressing tender kisses to the skin he has just used so thoroughly.
“Mine,” he whispers, the word reverent and fierce. “My beautiful girl. My Elodie.”
He gently removes the silk from my mouth, kisses my swollen lips, and then reaches for tissues.
He cleans me with careful, gentle strokes that contrast so sharply with what we’ve just done.
I’m trembling, limp, utterly spent, and he holds me steady, murmuring words of love and praise until I can stand on my own.
We dress in silence, trading soft smiles, and he checks my appearance with critical eyes. He smooths my hair and adjusts my dress until I look presentable and only slightly flushed. Then he unlocks the door, checks the corridor, and leads me back to our seats with a hand at the small of my back.
Once we’re settled, a blanket draped over our legs, Raiden takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each fingertip with reverence. “Thank you,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “For stealing me away. For this. For everything.”
“There are four more things on that list,” I say into his shoulder.
“Three.”
“Three,” I agree, and feel him smile against my hair. “There’s a house my mother’s family kept outside Galway. Half fallen in, the last I saw it. It looks straight out at the sea.”
“Put it on the list.”
“It’s already on the list.”
I turn to meet his blue eyes, dark and full of love, and I feel the words bubble up, inevitable and true. “Mo ghrá.”
His eyebrows lift. “You’ll have to teach me that one.”
“My love,” I tell him. “It’s what my mother called my father. I don’t think I’ve said it out loud since I was a girl.”
“Say it again.”
“Mo ghrá.”
“I love you too,” he says and pulls me close, tucking me against his side, his arm around my shoulders. “Thank you for letting me take care of you. For trusting me.”
I nestle into him, feeling his heartbeat steady against my cheek, and I know with absolute certainty that there is nowhere else I would rather be.
We drift together, tangled in each other, as the plane carries us toward Ireland and whatever comes next.
~The End
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