Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Lamb

Three Years Later…

O regan was hot and humid, and the bonnet of my Lamborghini burned through my thick jeans as I leaned against it. Heatwaves rippled from the surface of the tarmac, the concrete strip and grass wavering in the distance.

“Investigators have been digging at those old forensic files again,” Hound grumbled, the phone line crackling.

“And?” I sighed, sick of hearing this type of report.

“And nothing.” The Reaper’s irritated tone had become an unfortunately familiar constant in my life. “The one that split Maximus’ head in half was never found, so it’d be impossible to match it back to any weapon, as per your request .”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“You were the one who wanted to know when and if anyone started digging around,” Hound snipped.

“And?” I asked. “Was it anyone important?”

“Just your president’s missus again. She’s a real dog with a bone, that one.”

“So long as you did your job correctly, you have nothing to worry about.” I thought of Anna’s tenacity and had to believe in Hound’s thoroughness. Even a single drop of blood would have her on our tail, and despite our rivalry, she was someone I’d never want on my bad side. If Anna even suspected a lie under her nose, she’d dig and dig until she found it.

“I’m not scared of your president’s pint-sized old lady,” Hound scoffed.

You should be.

“Big words from someone who’d been beaten to the trigger,” I retorted, unable to make the sharp bitterness through my words. “Don’t forget it was your president who gave her that gun and put us in this mess, after all. You were supposed to take that shot, not her.”

“I don’t tell Charon what to do. I like my face looking the way it does,” Hound scoffed, an echoing sourness reflecting my own. “And I took that shot. I upheld my end of the bargain. You’re the one who didn’t want to find out who’s hit.”

The tail end of his words was buried beneath the loud rush of the wind as a large, silver-belied plane cut through the sky. I turned my nose up, watching the metallic creature soar and circle the landing strip. The heat from my car burned my skin as I locked in on the wide wings and bellowing engines.

“Why’d you do it?” Hound’s quiet, serious voice drew me back, his oddly curious tone earning my attention. “It’d be easy to have left my bullet at the scene. Say that was the one that killed Maximus. Why hide the evidence? Why let them believe it was her?”

A sharp, slicing screech mixed with the scent of burning rubber traveled like a wave across the earth; warm, humid air like a hot breath across my skin as the wheels touched down.

“It doesn’t matter whose bullet did the job,” I explained. My heart stirred, and my veins vibrated like plucked instrument string. “Ash killed her father. That is her truth. And that will stay the truth.”

A sharp, humorless laugh traveled through the phone. “You really are quite the pair. Both of you went into that hell storm, pretending to follow one plan while you both had your own. You were both lying to each other—the perfect double bluff. So, tell me, you know Ash’s, but when will she find out about yours?”

The plane slowed, losing momentum and velocity as it cruised to the end of the line and began its slow turn back toward me.

“She won’t,” I said, my blood simmering as the brakes engaged and the small carrier plane stopped. There was no one else on this private runway, not even a single marshal, as I waited, alone, for the door to open. “Never.” With that, I hung up the line and let my phone drop into my pocket.

The engines were slowing, their vibrating roar turning to a slow hum as the small side door popped open. A woman engaged a set of stairs built into the door, and as the metal step scrapped on the concrete floor, I saw her.

It’d been three long years. I hadn’t visited Ash in prison, and Ash had never asked me to. I never sent a letter or received a phone call; it had been silence.

Her hair was shorter. It was a strange thing to notice at first, after a long time apart. But her brown hair fell in wild waves around her shoulders, just brushing the light skin of her shoulders. Her tan from wandering had faded, but the brightness of her skin was flush with pink warmth. Bones no longer protruded from her skin, covered in a thick, healthy layer of fat and muscle. She wore a blank tank top, with little spaghetti straps, and as the sun washed over her, they glimmered and gleamed.

She took each step down with confidence until her thick, dusty boots landed on the tarmac, dark sunglasses pointed in my direction. They locked on the second her feet hit American soil, and though I couldn’t see her eyes, the burn in my core began to roil and rage, hotter and fiercer than the sun beating down on my neck.

I didn’t rise from the car. I didn’t move my gaze. I didn’t walk to meet her. Instead, I let that fire tunnel through my arms and legs, my heart dancing across the coals of my soul as she strutted toward me. Gone was the girl who had shied and bore her claws and teeth, walked with an uneven gait, and clung to shadows. Instead, a woman sauntered like she owned the land beneath her feet, her scars exposed, and her steady gaze unshaken. Confidence rolled off her like waves; a hot, bubbling ocean lapping at my feet as I braced for each tide of energy slamming into my chest with each step closer.

I could feel her, taste her on my skin as she closed the distance, drawing out her steps as if we both never wanted this torture to end. I counted her footsteps and carved the sounds into my brain until there were no more.

Ash stopped, my slouch putting us at eye level as those dark, imperceivable shades stared at my face. Time stretched between us, so many words hanging in the pregnant air.

A hand leaped forward, her bare palm extended out at my chest, a small smile curving at her lips. She tapped her finger against a passport peeking out of her pocket. “My name is Ash. Yours?”

I measured the hand. The hand I’d felt in my hair, clawing my back, and wrapped in my own. “Lamb,” I offered, taking it slowly, softly, savoring the way she felt beneath my touch and the hot, electric spark that shot between us.

Ash shivered, the shock hitting her, too.

I smirked, the tension snapping like an elastic band as familiarity flooded me. I tugged at her hand, pulling her a step between my legs as I lifted it to my lips. Ash watched with fascination, close enough now that I could make out the widening of her eyes behind the dark shades.

I nipped at the back of her hand, reveling in the red flush dying her cheeks a deeper, healthier red. Then I leaned forward, hungering at the scent of her and feverish at her burning warmth between my thighs as my jeans began to feel a little too tight.

I took what I wanted.

My fingers pursed the passport from her top pocket, slipping it free just as her lips parted and her eyes began to flutter closed. They widened with a snap as I leaned back enough to breathe and pillaged through the pages.

“Only an American passport? No dual citizenship?” I scoffed, taking masochistic pleasure in the dark arrows being shot out of the corner of my eye. “I guess that means you’re stuck here.”

I flipped open to her photo I.D. page, perusing the small photo I.D., with her short, cropped hair and a secured stare that felt fresh and unfamiliar. And then I saw her name. Legally, she’d changed her first name now to Ash. But that wasn’t what stopped me.

“I was offered dual,” Ash huffed, propping her hand on her hip. “But I did not think I would need it. I plan to be here for a long time, after all.”

“Your name …” I murmured, for once feeling my brain jar to a halt, words unfathomable, thoughts lost, and my chest still.

“Ah, right. That .” Ash’s sass softened as her hips wormed a little closer toward mine. Her hands rested against my belt loops, eyes tracing the movements as a warm, virgin blush rosed her cheeks.

“ Why ?” I breathed. I looked up from the piece of paper, disbelief stirring a maelstrom as I looked into those beautiful, pastel green eyes. She’d slid her sunglasses up onto her head, and now, even though her eyes were a little clearer with her cornea transplant, the slight fog remained. But that color was bright. Brighter than any star, or moon, or sun as they flickered up with their tentative, nervous flutter to meet mine.

“I lost a bet.” Ash shrugged, tugging on my belt loops. “Besides”—she straightened, that blush burning fiercely now down her throat and blooming over her chest—“I worked hard for that passport. I did not want to have to change it again when I only just got it.”

“So, you took my last name?” I looked down at the small booklet once more.

Black, Ash.

“It is a little corny. But I guess I cannot be picky about my husband’s name. You did not choose it.”

I pressed my hand across her lips. The motion was so fast and so sudden that even Ash jarred a little as my fingers closed over her chin.

I couldn’t help it. I felt hot, and my heart was racing in my chest. The disbelief was fading, and instead, something burning and rapid was rushing through my system, electrifying, and boiling, and caustic all at once. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.

“Are you”—Ash pried my fingers from her mouth. Her lips turned into a sharp, curling, saccharine smile—“okay?”

I pulled her against my chest until her heart was knocking on mine, our pulses in symphony and our eyes both burning with fire and lust. “Let’s go. Right now.”

“Home?” Ash asked, a little lost for breath.

“Courthouse,” I growled. “I’m marrying you right now.”

“So I do not run away?” Ash laughed, tension seeping from her body the moment she thought I was joking.

“Because I love you. You are mine. You belong by my side, and I will not accept anything less.” I held her tighter. “No matter our plans, leaving you there, at his mercy, was the first and last mistake I will ever make. I won’t leave room for another.”

I saw her soften. Saw the moment she realized the truth. I wasn’t joking.

“You are starting to get this human thing at last.” Ash smiled, a new warm and endless expression I hadn’t seen before, both bottomless, and infinite, and easy. She pushed onto her toes, and for the first time in three years, her lips pressed against mine.

Her taste on my tongue was sweet as butterscotch ice cream, melting and softening against my body, as we savored each other, wishing for it never to end. My jeans grew tighter.

Ash’s hips stiffened against mine as she broke the kiss with laughter. She stared down at the rock-hard boner threatening to tear through the thick fabric of my jeans and bury itself home before we even got in the car.

Ash’s eyes darkened with a light, tempting lick of her tongue over her swollen lips. “I doubt we will make it to the courthouse like this …” she purred, her fingers sliding from the belt loops, over the crotch of my jeans.

“Want to bet on it?” I growled, fighting the urge not to push my dick into her hand.

Ash smiled, not a moment of hesitation as she stared into my eyes with so many words and so many actions left unspoken. But it was okay. Because now we could take our time.

Till death do we part.

“Bet.”