Epilogue

Okay. I know. I know. It was crazy of me to marry a man I had just met who bought me the day before, but I wanted to. I knew I loved him, even if we hadn't said it yet. I knew I did. I especially shouldn't have done it after running away from home for an adventure. I thought I was in love before, remember my sister's husband, Bryan, well, ex-husband already, but good God Almighty; I had no idea what love really was—none at all.

Magnus is a Norse god who worships every inch of my body and then some. He loves me more than I ever thought possible, and he's all mine. On our way to Alaska from Hungary, we stopped in Vegas and got married. We both agreed that it was the quickest way to be his forever. Then we had a huge handfasting ceremony where his cousin, ?dger, a superior court judge, did the honors. My new in-laws, and goodness, there are a lot of them, treat me better than my family ever did. Saga, my mother-in-law, is a plump little lady who just loves me for me, and I couldn't be happier with how my life is right now.

It took almost a month for anyone from my family to even notice I was gone, let alone think to be worried about me. It was Dad. He's flown out here twice in six months. He's happy, and I'm happy. I started teaching at a junior high, eighth grade, and it's going great. I'm three months pregnant, and that's great, too.

When I walk into Magnus' office, he's on the phone, standing by the sliding glass door. He's filthy. Covered in God knows what.

"I did my part, Vitali. You gotta do yours. End that motherfucker in New York. All McAllister's have been ended here." I don't hear what is said on the other end of the line, but he hangs up without saying goodbye.

"Tough day, baby?" I ask.

"It's better, now that you are home. Let me get cleaned up."

"Let me help you," I say, taking his hand and leading him into our bedroom.

"You want to help me shower?" he asks skeptically.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind."

"Do tell," he says, leaning down to kiss me. The blood on his hands, literally, should be a turn-off, but it's not. What is wrong with me?

I begin to unbutton his shirt and then toss it aside. I place my hands on his chest. My name is tattooed on his chest, his on mine.

"I love you, elskan," he says. Knowing now that elskan means "my love" and that he's called me that pretty much since the moment he met me always makes me crazy.

"I love you too, verr," I moan as his lips drag across my neck.

He may have bought me sight unseen, but none of that matters. He loves me just as I am.