Epilogue
Cain
THREE MONTHS LATER
My friends and I crowded around the large, cloth-draped painting in Nyx’s new studio on the castle’s second floor. A paint-spattered tarp covered the stone underfoot, and the air was thick with turpentine and linseed oil.
“Ready?” Nyx asked, and pulled the cover away, revealing the life-sized group portrait she’d been working on for the past month.
She turned back with that practiced smile I hated, pasted on to hide her fear that we wouldn’t like her work. But then she straightened, shoulders squared, and dropped the smile, allowing herself to be unguarded, real.
She didn’t need to worry. The canvas fucking glowed.
For a beat, the studio went quiet, broken only by Jude’s babble, “Ya, ya, ya,” his small voice echoing like a cheer.
Brien let out a low whistle, Twilight breathed, “Wowzer.” Talon just stared, impressed.
Eden lifted Jude up to give him a closer look. “Look at you, you handsome guy. Just like your daddy.”
I caught Nyx’s face in my hands and kissed her hard. “It’s perfect. Your best work yet.”
The others closed in then, praising Nyx until she was flushed and grinning. I put my arm around her shoulders, smiling along with her.
Brien anchored the center of the canvas, sharp in an understated suit, green-eyed and compelling. Twilight leaned against him, painted nails resting on his chest, her short pink skirt flashing a middle finger at syndicate norms.
Talon stood on Brien’s left, an arm slung around Eden, face stern, like he was daring anyone to question their bond.
Eden was smiling at the dark-haired baby curled against her shoulder.
Jude, six months old and a mini-alpha-in-training, clutched the collar of his mom’s velvet dress with a fat fist—claiming before he could even speak.
That first week back on the island, Nyx had apologized to Eden.
Eden, cool as ever, said she understood, had even thanked Nyx for doing what she could.
Now the two of them, along with Twilight, were friends—sweating it out in workouts, dancing in the Bite Club and not-so-quietly dragging the Maritime Syndicate into the twenty-first century.
As for the portrait of me and Nyx? We stood on Brien’s right side.
She’d caught my restless energy and her own easy sensuality, the two of us part of the group and yet also our own unit.
My hand clasped her nape and her head was turned so she gazed up at me, her hair spilling around her shoulders, a little smile on her lips.
Beneath our feet was a mosaic of a great white shark, and a swarm of fireflies encircled us like tiny gold stars. And Nyx being Nyx, a small green dragon coiled lazily around a vase on a nearby table, its ruby eyes gleaming with mischief.
Taken as a whole, it looked like we’d stepped into one of Nyx’s stories. A modern-day fairytale about three brothers-in-arms and their fated mates.
And maybe we had. Twilight had reported that we—Brien, Talon and me—were trending on social media, rivaling the Kral Dark Angels for attention. They’d tagged us the Dark Hearts. Whatever the hell that meant.
Sweet Lilith, I was glad I lived on an island and not in New York like the Kral brothers.
I kissed Nyx behind the ear where I knew it would make her shiver. “They love it. You are so fucking amazing.” I made it a point to tell her that at least once a day.
She let out a happy sigh and smiled up at me.
Brien was still gazing at the painting. “You want me to share it with the world, let me know. It’s too good to hide on this island.”
My beautiful, talented mate shook her head. She’d come clean to my friends about being The Haunt but had sworn them to secrecy.
“I don’t need anyone but you four to see it,” she said.
“Your choice.” Twilight’s grin was sly. “I bet the mystery is good for sales.”
Nyx’s lips twitched. “There is that.”
Eden wasn’t buying it. Her brow furrowed. “But that’s not why you don’t want anyone to know who you are, is it? This isn’t about sales. You don’t need the money, especially now you mated with Cain. You can afford to give your paintings away.”
Nyx shrugged a shoulder. “Well, yeah. This way it’s about the art. People don’t filter it through what they know about me.” She wrinkled her nose. “You know, my rep.”
Twilight tossed her braid. “Because you’re a hot female who likes parties and pretty clothes? Screw that. Who says a woman like you can’t be a world-class artist or businessperson or even a damn doctor?”
Nyx laughed, and Twilight’s grin flashed. “But hey, do your thing. We’ve got your back, one hundred percent.” She flicked a glance at her mate. “Brien is still fan-boying over you.”
He rolled his eyes skyward. “I am, of course, honored to welcome an artist of your caliber into the syndicate,” he said, just this side of pompous—the way he always sounded when embarrassed.
Yeah, the dude was fan-boying hard.
He must’ve realized it himself because he grimaced and pivoted. “Why don’t we hang the painting in that alcove outside the war room?”
“Perfect,” said Twilight. “What d’you think, Nyx?”
Her smile widened. Through the bond, I felt her happiness, her sense of belonging. I squeezed her shoulder, taking her joy as my own.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“That’s settled then,” said Twilight. “And if anyone asks, we’ll tell them we took a photo and commissioned The Haunt to paint it.”
Brien and Twilight left then for their nightly swim, but Talon and Eden stayed behind.
They exchanged a look, then Eden turned to Nyx. “We wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh?” She glanced between them, puzzled.
Jude reached out for her, little arms stretching, voice babbling, “Nah, nah, nah.” Kid had taken a shine to her. Smart kid.
Eden kissed his cheek and passed him over. “You know Jude’s sponsor ceremony next week? We’d like you to stand with Cain as his godmother.”
“Me?” Nyx cuddled Jude closer at the same time she shook her head. “But—”
“No buts,” Eden said. “We think you’re the best choice, and not just because you’re Cain’s mate. You’re levelheaded, and if it ever comes down to it, I trust you to make decisions for Jude, not the syndicate. And he likes you.”
She grinned at her son, who was gazing up at Nyx like she was the prettiest thing in the castle. Like I said, the kid was smart.
“Then I’d be honored,” Nyx said. “I—thank you. I’ll do my very best. Whatever he needs, I’ll be there for him.”
“We know,” said Talon simply.
“And we should be thanking you,” added Eden. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, this little monster could use a nap.”
Talon took his son from Nyx, and they left us alone in the studio.
Nyx slipped an arm around my waist. Together, we studied the painting. She turned to me, eyes shining. “We look like a family, don’t we?”
I squeezed her shoulders. “We are a family.”
Because the six of us—seven, if you counted Jude—weren’t about power or territory. Not really. The syndicate ran on that. We didn’t.
We were something else. A brotherhood, first. Talon, Brien, me—bound by blood we chose, not blood we were born with.
And what Nyx and I had grew out of that same place. Not softer or gentler. Just deeper. The same loyalty, the same ride-or-die bond… only turned toward one person with everything I had.
Nyx touched my cheek. “I love you, Lieutenant Cain.”
I hauled her close. “And I love you,” I said, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Holy fuck, I love you.” I kissed both eyes, then said it one more time against her mouth. “Forever.”
That warmth, that happiness, flooded me. Filling the hollow places, burning out the dark.
It was familiar now, that rush, but one I’d never take for granted.