Epilogue

It's been a long fucking day, and there's been a lot of those lately. But I'll take eleven hours at the shop over the shit at the clubhouse every once in a while.

Blaze has been slowly rebuilding the ranks while I recruit. We have the most prospects the Twisted Kings has had in years, and they're loyal. We went back to the rules that were in place when my father was around. Longer time served as a prospect and unanimous votes to become a member. If we're going to rebuild the club, we're going to do it right.

With Blaze in charge, and our newly reinforced bond with Steel's club in Vegas, we've been sharing ideas and finding new ways to grow stronger. The LA Twisted Kings have their reputation back in a way that makes me proud to wear my patch again.

I'm finally taking clear breaths, remembering who I saw myself being when I was a kid. A member of the club, someone who cared about my art. Getting the best of both worlds and making a difference.

I finish the final line on my sketch when movement in the doorway catches my attention. Lyla's peeking around the corner smiling at me.

"You've been here all day." She closes the door behind her and tries to force a frown but can't with her grin. "Aren't you tired yet?"

"I'm better now." I kiss her when she makes her way over to me.

Nothing feels better than her. Those lips on my lips and her skin on my skin heals me. Takes away all my stress and my pain.

"This might not be good news then." Lyla pulls back, smiling at me.

"Might be good news? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I said it was good." She pats my chest.

"You said it might be good."

"Don't go getting all beastly for no reason."

"Beastly?" I pick her up and sit her down on the chair in the middle of the room. "Pretty sure you enjoy it when that happens."

Her thighs part for me, and the moment I feel her heat through her jeans, I'm full mast.

"Did you miss me today, butterfly?" I ask her, and she slowly tips back as I kiss a path down her throat.

She hums as I peel her jacket off her, revealing her paint splattered skin. She and Candy have been slowly painting the clubhouse, the bar, and the houses in the neighborhood. Now that the damaged structures have all been rebuilt, the girls have been bonding over curtains and décor.

She doesn't say it, but I think she likes making the Twisted Kings feel more like home again. Lyla brings life to the walls. She brings peace to a place built on violence.

"I always miss you." Her nails dig into the back of my neck. "But I'm here for a reason."

"Oh yeah?" I grind my cock against her pussy and look up just in time to catch her eyes rolling back in her head.

She's fucking stunning, and when she's lost in the feel of me, I can't handle it.

My wife.

I should have married her years ago, and every day I'll make my mistake up to her.

"I didn't come here for that." She bites her lip, but then I sink my teeth into the soft flesh of her breast, and she groans. "Okay, maybe a little bit of that. But not only that."

"What do you need, butterfly?" I drag my hand down to cup her pussy, and she lifts her hips to meet me.

"A tattoo."

That takes me by surprise, and I pull back to look down at her. "Really?"

I might be covered in ink, but she still only has one. The butterfly I gave her when she turned eighteen. Still one of my favorite ways I've marked her.

I've tattooed so many people over the years it all blurs together. I remember the ink but not their faces. It's art, nothing more. But I can still see Lyla's eyes when she watched me ink her. I can still see the hole she ripped in her fishnets when she spread her legs.

A memory that makes me almost as hard as she does when she moans against my mouth.

Lyla pulls back, smiling at me. "You going to try and turn me down again?"

"Never." I grab her neck and tip her chin up, slowly kissing a path down the center of her chest. Moving for her jeans, I undo the button and start to tug them down.

"It's going on my side." She squeals as I pull her jeans and panties over her hips and dive my mouth to her core.

"I don't care." I lick her pussy, and she wiggles as I trap her jeans around her ankles and part her thighs for me. "It's break time first."

I drive my tongue into her and play with her clit, dragging the prettiest scream from her chest. It fills the room like the scent of incense that follows her around.

Happiness.

Peace.

All good things when I don't deserve them.

Her hands dig into my hair, and her hips lift as I flick my tongue back and forth over her clit. I play with her pussy and drown in the feel of her coming apart.

I worship her. Pouring myself out for this girl. Lyla has been through so much pain and loss that she deserves everything good. I give her all of me to make her shake and shiver.

I'm going to spend the rest of my life worshipping her body and soul. If that's the comfort I can give her, she'll have all of it. All of me.

She grips my hair and tips her head back in a scream as I go wild on her clit. It's a good thing everyone else locked up the shop twenty minutes ago, or they'd definitely hear it.

And when she finally lets go, I thrust my tongue inside her pussy to feel her squeeze me. To taste how good I make her feel. It's the only thing that actually means anything, and everything else I do is just to please her.

Pulling back, she moans.

"I'm so sensitive."

"Good." I lean in and kiss her pussy again, loving how she shivers.

Reaching for her jeans, I pull them up her legs.

"That's it?" she grumbles. "You aren't going to fuck me?"

"I'm going to fuck you all night long, butterfly." I secure her button. "But you came here for a tattoo, so that's going to have to wait."

She hums, narrowing her eyes at me. "Is that how you start all of your sessions?"

"Just my wife's."

Her cheeks heat. The same way they do when I call her my old lady. She might hate that term, but she loves any reminder that she's mine. And she is in every single way.

"Fine." She reaches for the purse she slung over the arm of the chair when she walked in the room and pulls out a tarot card. "But I'm holding you to that, VP."

It's so fucking hot when she calls me that. I didn't want the title until she started using it. It makes me want to bend her over and remind her of the power that title gives me.

Lyla holds out the tarot card, and I take it.

"I want you to do your tattoo thing with it." She waves her hand around.

"My tattoo thing." I grin at her.

"You know, make it look unique and cool. That thing you do. You know what I'm talking about."

I do, but it's still cute watching her ramble and try to explain it to me.

"The Empress?"

"Yep." She smiles big, looking at me with those eyes that tell me I should be reading something into this. "Pulled it this morning."

"You pulled it this morning and you already want a tattoo of it?" Leaning back in my chair, I look her over. "Means that much to you, huh?"

"Well…" She starts digging through her purse again. "You know I believe in the cards, but yes, I hear you. And for this, I did think you'd need a little more proof."

"For this?" My eyebrows pinch when she pauses on something in her purse and glances up at me.

Lyla pulls out a white stick and holds it out. It takes me a moment to process what I'm looking at. But she must realize when I do because her smile grows as my eyes widen.

I snatch the pregnancy test from her hand and look down at a bright plus sign on it.

"You're pregnant?"

"Apparently." She's smiling and nodding; the sun might as well be beaming from her eyes. "The cards never lie. How many times do I have to tell you that before you'll believe me?"

"The cards?" I'm at a loss trying to process what she's talking about. "You're pregnant, and you didn't walk in here starting with this."

I grab her thighs and pull her down the chair toward me so her legs straddle my hips.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her closer. "You're fucking pregnant?"

She nods, snaking her arms around my neck. "I am, Daddy."

"Fuck…" I plant my mouth on hers and drown in the moan. "You fucking kill me."

She melts to me. Her lips move like silk over mine. Her tongue skims my lower lip and it's heaven on earth.

"You realize I'm not tattooing you when you're pregnant, right?"

"So you are turning me down again?" She grins against my mouth.

"I am. And you're not talking me into it this time."

"I know." She hugs me, burying her face in the nook of my neck. "You can tattoo that on me later. We have our whole lives for that."

Our whole lives.

Something about those words coming from Lyla makes them bigger. The girl who sees the future—who is my future. Who is growing a future beyond us inside her.

She's my destiny.

My phone rings, and I groan as Lyla pulls away from the kiss.

"Better get that, VP."

"Careful." I nip at her lip. "You know how much I like that."

Reaching in my pocket, I pull out my phone, expecting to see Blaze calling me to ask where I'm at, but it's Mason's name on the screen. He just left the shop an hour ago after his last appointment.

I answer the call, tipping my head back. "Please tell me you didn't burn the apartment down already. Because I swear to—"

"It's Reed."

My sarcasm cuts off at his words. "My sister?"

"Yeah." Mason sighs on the other end of the line. "She just showed up looking for you because she didn't realize you moved out already. And Sage… you need to get up here."

"What happened?"

"Nothing good." He hangs up, and when I turn to look at Lyla, her eyes look too much like a premonition I don't want to be true.

Her eyebrows pinch, and I swear she's seeing the future all over again, except this time it isn't ours—it's my sister's.