Epilogue
Riven
I’m standing in my kitchen, searing a couple of steaks in a butter, thyme, and garlic sauce.
Tonight, Sloane and I are celebrating. Not only is it our one-year anniversary, but Sloane has also been promoted to senior investigative journalist. I may also have a surprise of my own to share with her when she comes home from work, one that I’ve managed to finally keep from her.
A few months after Reverb headlined Moonvale, Sloane wrote the most beautiful story of her career.
The story was a multilayered tale of Reverb and how we were always more than a band.
She described how the music was more of a movement, a transformational phenomenon that blurred the lines between art and reality.
Her words spoke of the ability of sound frequency to inhibit basic human emotion in a way that bordered on ritualistic catharsis.
She explored the psychological aspect behind Reverb’s fan base, outlining the almost spiritual bond created through mystery and lore.
Sloane’s story was a deliverance, powerful and compact, vaguely unveiling the humans that lie beneath the masks.
Her final words were ones that I’ll never forget because of how true they rang.
I can hear them now in my mind, as if right in front of me.
“I set out in search of faces and names, but the truth that I found instead was far more enduring. Identity is nothing more than a whisper against the roaring tide of the art that speaks so loudly for itself.”
? ? ?
I hear the door opening up behind me, the alarm beeping twice, and then growing silent in her wake. I turn, leaning back against the countertop as Sloane walks toward me with a huge smile. It’s a smile that I’ve memorized as the one made only for me.
“Hey there, chef,” she says, wrapping her arms around my waist and leaning up to kiss me.
“Professor. Chef. What other nicknames do you have up there for me?” I tap a finger against her forehead. “Hey there, darling,” I say, kissing her again.
She pulls back, eyeing the fully set dining table to our right.
The plates are set and ready for food. The steaks in the center of the table sit beside a bowl of tossed salad and a freshly baked loaf of sourdough.
I watch as her eyes track to the tub of cookie dough ice cream sitting atop a bowl of ice with the ice cream scoop sitting beside it.
Her gaze flicks to mine, eyes filled with wonder and arousal.
“Don’t even think about dessert first, darling,” I say, grabbing her purse and setting it down on the counter. “I worked too hard on these for them to get cold. Come on.” I walk her over to her place at the table, and she sits, staring up at me.
“You didn’t have to do all this. It’s just a promotion,” she says, shying away from her accomplishments like they don’t mean the absolute world to me.
“Yes, I did. It’s not just a promotion. It’s your work finally being seen for how truly amazing it is, how truly amazing you are.
” I take my seat across from her, plating the steaks and the salad.
“Plus, it’s also our anniversary, and I might have a little surprise of my own. ” She looks up from her plate.
“You? A surprise? Wow, I’m already shocked,” she says, sarcasm dripping from the words as she starts cutting the steak.
“Mhm. I managed to finally keep one from you,” I say proudly. She laughs, moaning softly at her first bite of food. It’s an adorable little quirk I discovered she had when she moved in.
“Like it?” I ask, watching her.
“Mhm,” she says, blushing a pale shade of red. “So, what’s the surprise?” she says, changing the subject. My girl still gets embarrassed easily. If I didn’t love to watch her squirm, I’d spank her for it. I still might, just for fun.
“I’m opening my music therapy studio. It’s really happening,” I say as her eyes widen in disbelief and awe.
“Riven, what? That’s amazing. You have worked so hard for this, and you deserve all of it,” she says, beaming. She stands, climbing into my lap. “Look at you, the man who once used the music to mask his darkness, now the one using it to heal others. How poetic.”
“We have worked so hard for this. We deserve it,” I remind her. “And wow, look at you, headlining your next story,” I say jokingly.
“Have you and the guys decided on a name for it yet? And what kind of services will you offer?” she asks, genuine curiosity on her face.
I avert her gaze before finding it again, suddenly shy myself. “The Reverence Room,” I say.
“Wow, Riven. That’s … beautiful. I love that,” she says.
“Yeah?” I ask, brushing her hair behind her ears.
“It’s going to be a place for … everyone.
For trauma survivors, those with anxiety or depression, victims of PTSD or abuse, those battling addiction, veterans, and even artists seeking emotional release.
” I spurt out the words like they can’t exit my mind fast enough, relieved to finally say them aloud. It feels good.
She watches me intently, smiling. “That’s amazing, Riven. I can’t wait to see all of the good that comes out of this.” She presses her forehead to mine, running her hands through my hair.
“I love you. Have I ever told you that?” I whisper, pressing my lips against hers.
“Mhm, maybe a time or two. But it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again,” she says against my lips.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I say, trailing kisses down her jaw and over her neck. She giggles, pulling away from my mouth.
“I love you, too, so much,” she says, her eyes looking back and forth between my own.
I pick her up and return her to her seat, earning a gasp. “Finish eating, darling. Dessert is waiting,” I say, eyes flicking to the ice cream scoop before returning to hers. She tracks my gaze, her cheeks blushing that pale shade of red that I love once again.
? ? ?
As soon as she takes the last bite on her plate, I scoop her into my arms and head for the back door.
She giggles the whole way there, tossing her head back and kicking her feet like she knows what’s coming.
And she might think she knows, but I’ve got another surprise for her hidden just beyond the forest. She buries her head in my chest as I barrel through the door, walking and walking until we clear the opening of the forest. I set her down with her back against me and cover her eyes with my hands.
“Riven, what are you doing?” she asks, her hands resting softly atop mine.
“Shhhh,” I whisper against her ear, walking forward a few steps. She giggles, shuffling forward blindly.
“Okay,” I say, pausing, “are you ready?”
“I guess?” she says, voice uncertain.
“One … two … ” She giggles. “Three,” I say, removing my hands and kneeling behind her.
She takes in the space around her, her eyes tracking the purple hydrangea petals littered across the forest floor at her feet.
Her gaze lands on the rich, deep gray wool blanket nestled at the base of a large redwood.
The blanket lies beneath the amber glow of string lights hanging between the low-lying branches overhead.
The lights sway slightly in the breeze, casting shadows that dance over the scene before her.
Atop the blanket lies an ice bucket with a single, unopened bottle of champagne resting inside it.
Sloane sucks in a breath, turning on her heels to face me.
She looks down, eyes widening at the object I hold out in my hands.
“Sloane Lena Keenan,” I start, my hands trembling as I struggle to compose my own emotions.
Her eyes fill with tears, one escaping to spill down her cheek as she holds my gaze.
“You saw me when no one else would. You saved me from the darkness inside of me, making a home for it beside your own. There is no future for me without you in it. You are my resurrection, my ruin, my obsession. Will you be mine, darling, in this lifetime, and every one after that? Will you marry me?”
Tears fall down her face in a steady stream, her eyes a vivid green that mirrors the foliage around us. Her lips part, but sound abandons them at first, causing the forest around us to grow silent in waiting. Then she speaks, voice raw and filled with emotion.
“I would have followed you into the darkness in every lifetime, Riven. You are the one who set me free, allowed me to become the version of myself that I’m no longer ashamed of. Take me. Make me yours in every single way.”
She falls to her knees before me, cupping my face in her hands.
“Yes, always, yes.” She presses her mouth softly to mine, kissing me slowly like she wants to commit the very moment to memory.
The kiss is unhurried and deep, the kind that lingers long after lips part.
The lights hanging above us flicker as if the forest itself bears witness to our union.
I pull away from her, removing the ring from the black velvet box that holds it. With hands that still tremble, I place the large, faintly pale sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds onto her ring finger. The haunting jewel sits atop a white-gold band as the finishing touch.
“Our story was never ordinary. So, I thought … why should this be any different?” I say, looking up into her eyes to gauge her reaction.
“It’s perfect, Riven. So perfect.” She cries, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me again.
This time, the kiss is filled with an unrestrained hunger.
She fists her hands in my hair as I lift her from the ground and walk toward the blanket.
I lean down, setting her on her back on top of it.
She pulls me closer, her legs wrapped tightly around me.
This moment feels like more than the all-consuming love of two souls; it feels like eternity.
I sit up, tearing off the layers of clothing that separate us before bringing my mouth back to hers. With a growl, I flip her over until she’s above me. I want to worship at her altar. She sits up fully, rolling her hips over my hard shaft, allowing me to feel exactly what I’ve already done to her.
“Sloane,” I groan, rubbing against her wet center.
I watch her above me, her silhouette bathed in the amber glow of the hanging lights.
She is a vision like this, one that I could happily stare at for the rest of my days.
She lifts herself enough to slip her hand beneath us and align herself on top of me.
She sinks at an agonizing pace, and it halts the beat of my heart.
“Fuck,” I murmur, “you feel so good, darling.” My praise has the intended effect of quickening her pace, if only enough to provide me with that friction that sets my soul on fire.
I grip the tops of her thighs, thrusting up and meeting her rhythm until our souls beat to the same drum.
The forest around us awakens, the lights above us seemingly brighter now.
She tosses her head back, moaning into the night sky as she rolls her hips around me in slow circles.
She is a goddess who shines brighter than even the stars above us.
This time is different. This time, I don’t order her to look at me, nor do I command her to voice her desires.
Her hooded gaze finds mine all on her own, wrapping me up in them the way that she always truly has.
The control was always hers, mine only ever an illusion.
Maybe I’ve always known this to be true.
Even when I thought that I had honed it, it only ever depended on her touch, her words, her presence.
She allows me to have her, to devour her, because she chooses it.
She surrenders to me knowingly, aware that I’d give her anything she asked for.
Her next words find my ears all on their own.
“Touch me, Riven. I want to feel your hands on me,” she pants.
I move my hand to her clit, flicking it between my fingers as she writhes above me.
My other hand finds the swell of her breast, brushing the pad of my finger over her nipple in a soft caress.
She moans loudly, the sound of it drawing me nearer to that place that lies beyond the stars.
A smile tugs at the corner of her lips in a soft, kind of dangerous way.
Her next words are my absolute and utter undoing.
“Come for me, Riven.” Her words are a whispered invitation, layered in tenderness and fire.
My once unyielding control shatters into nothing as I shudder beneath her, burying myself deep inside of her.
I chase that final edge as she plants her palms firmly against my chest to anchor me.
I feel her tightening around me, close to her release.
“Let go for me, Riven.” I didn’t know I needed to do just that.
Together, we come. Her name spills from my lips like a confession, like I’m falling to my knees at the altar of the only salvation I’ve ever truly known.
She screams my name into the forest, eyes never leaving mine.
For the first time, I allow myself to be completely unmade by her.
I never thought that surrender could feel like freedom.
But here, with her in my arms under the night sky, I find that I am truly free.