31. Epilogue

Five months later

I graduate on a perfect summer morning, crowned with a tall white chef's hat. A week later, I meet Grace at my favorite restaurant in the city for a celebratory meal. Capri's is a family-run Mediterranean bistro in Greenwich Village, with the best octopus salad and spicy tomato ravioli I've ever tasted. Lucky for me, I start working there as soon as we get back from our trip to Southern Italy. Technically it's a graduation present from Xavier, but if I have my way, it's going to be a working holiday, too. And the first thing I'm packing after my bikini? The custom set of Florentine chef knives Declan gave me.

"Just as well you're traveling by private jet," Grace tells me as I peek inside my Volk knife roll for the hundredth time. Because yes, I carry it everywhere with me. Even though we're dining out with three security guys a piece, you never know when you're going to need to whip out a custom-made Damascus steel blade.

We're eating pasta in Capri's beautiful courtyard, me in a graduation dress Erik bought – and Xavier dressed me in - and Grace in a flowing maternity gown. She's now seven months pregnant and taking the third trimester glow to a whole new level. She points her penne-laden fork at my knife set. "You'd find it hard giving those up if you were flying commercial."

The private jet is Erik's contribution to our trip, since along with cooking for the Danish family, his grandfather was also distantly related to them. It seems his family back in Europe is loaded, and his trust fund has financed the bulk of the alpha club takeovers. The fact he still wears the same three henleys on rotation, and would rather eat a cheeseburger over filet mignon, just makes me love him all the more.

"How hard was it getting your maternity combat vest through airport security?" I ask, tongue in cheek. Grace got to go on her babymoon to France, but the security around it gave her an almost permanent headache. Her pack was overcompensating for being out of the city when she was kidnapped, and for a while she was wearing more trackers on her body than House of Omega labels.

"It's not a combat vest," she says with a burbling laugh. "Although Daniel's talking about upgrading the tower's security system again, this time with a moat."

We both shake our heads at the overprotectiveness of alphas, although I must admit, I like it when it comes to Violet. A couple of months ago I formally applied for her guardianship, which was handled with infinite sensitivity by Xavier. We've both taken the Volk name, more than happy to bury Crenshaw in the past where it belongs. As their mate, my sister will always be loved and protected, which is something our own parents never managed to do.

And when there's a lull in the conversation – right around the time I'm groaning from eating too much tiramisu – Grace leans over and says quietly, "I read about your father in the paper. How are you feeling about it?"

"Relieved." She gives me a careful look, but I shrug. "Glad it's over. And glad I know the truth."

A couple of weeks ago, my father slipped on ketchup in the prison kitchen and broke his neck. This wasn't long after Dr. Tampa's body was found in a ditch down in Mexico. It took Xavier and a team of lawyers three months to get the truth out of my father. And when they did, it was devastating.

According to his written confession, I was never injected with an experimental hormone enhancer. It was a placebo. A Vitamin K shot. They'd been trying for years to perfect the science behind designation manipulation, and even had a joint project funded by a major military contractor. My father had a gambling habit – which the Sawyer Pack exploited – and so Tampa lied about the success of his research.

"But why pretend?" I asked Xavier after he shared my father's confession. "And why did he keep the lie going for so long?"

"He said it was for your own good," Xavier replied, his voice thick with disgust. "To make you believe anything was possible, in terms of your designation. But since he suspected you were going to be an omega anyway, it was a low-level risk."

"But the medicated heats…?" My voice cuts off as I answer the question for myself. My father always encouraged my mom's drug dependency, feeding her pills after every meal like they were breath mints. It was his way of controlling her, of turning her into a ghost who was neither seen nor heard. And I was never anything but a pawn to him. Either he was going to trot me out as a scientific marvel, buying himself more time with his creditors, or he was going to trade me away to one of them. When the Sawyer Pack came calling, he chose the latter.

"But the enhancements. How did they happen?"

Peter joined us for this conversation, and he answered promptly, my medical records in front of him. "All you. Not enhancements. Just your own good genes."

I had trouble wrapping my head around that. "Even the lying? And the fact I couldn't pick up on the bond with Patrick?"

"Again, could just be natural quirks," Peter said, giving me a soft look from his sad eyes. "But it was probably your mind's way of defending itself. Lying is a skill, and scent-bonds are confronting. If you were trying to control your interactions with others, you could have developed these defense mechanisms to protect yourself."

"So, no mutant uber soldiers on the horizon?" I asked, trying to lift the mood.

"Not any time soon," Xavier replied. "Although, the current theory is that Tampa was taken out by the military contractor they duped. But it's possible he did have some success with that part of the program, and he was killed to ensure his research went to the grave with him."

It's taken me a while to work out how I feel about it all. Anger, sadness, and confusion have left me exhausted since I found out. After thinking I was one thing for so long – and fearing I was really another – it has been hard to accept who I really am. But I've decided today is the first day of the new me. Jasmine Volt. Not a perfect omega, but not a broken one, either.

"But let's talk about happier things," I tell Grace, looking her over with admiring eyes. "Are you sure I need to be pregnant to wear your new maternity line? Because I'm prepared to eat a whole lot of chocolate sauce to get that dress in my size."

When I get back to the residence, Violet is just heading off to the clinic with Kelly. Now that my dad is gone and all immediate threats have been dealt with, my sister has more freedom to do the things she's always wanted. Which means spending every waking hour with Kelly's mate at his veterinary clinic. Chewie has blitzed his training – largely due to Violet's perseverance and Patrick's uncanny way with dogs – and he will be taking up a permanent post with us once he graduates.

"Did you see the collar Erik gave him?" Violet asks me as we cross paths at the elevator. She lifts Chewie's head so I can see the leather band with the gold dog tag. "It's V for Volk. Because Chewie is part of our pack, too."

I can't resist kissing my sister on her silky head, even though her thirteenth birthday is fast approaching, and she insists teenagers don't put up with that stuff from their parents.

I'm still grinning as I reach the kitchen and hear the familiar tinkle of piano keys. Casper is sitting alone in the music room, working through one of his original pieces. He's still getting therapy to improve his vision, but he's mastered the 3D sheets Declan bought him, and now he's getting his own music printed. I don't know much about symphonies, but everything he composes makes my heart soar and my panties wet. Which means I'm squirming a little as I take a seat next to him on the stool.

"Nice duds," I tell him, running a finger down the lapel of his smart black suit. Casper looks good in anything, but when he makes an effort, it's hard to keep my tongue in my mouth. "Are you practicing for a concert?"

After months of never playing at all, Casper is now taking students with limited vision, and even holds the occasional concert for his favorite charities.

"Just playing around," he says with a coy smile. "How did lunch go?"

"Great. Grace is glowing, as usual. And don't tell Kelly, but the chef who makes the pasta sauce is a culinary god."

"And soon he'll be teaching you everything he knows."

"Not everything," Xavier growls from the doorway and I spin around to watch the guys saunter into the room. They're all in matching black suits, and my panties dissolve at the sight of them. "What's this?" I ask. "I thought you all had things to do today."

"On your birthday?" Declan drawls, coming over to drop a kiss on my forehead. "What kind of packmates would that make us?"

"Gobshites," Patrick supplies with a grin, bending to add his kiss to the mix. "Happy birthday, mo chroí."

"Thanks. I didn't think you knew." Erik gives me a look that's borderline insulted, and I laugh. "Right. I forgot. There are no secrets in the Volk Pack."

It's not quite a pack motto, but it's proving to be a nice way to live.

"There's a pile of gifts waiting for you in the nest," Casper tells me. "But we thought we might unwrap you first."

"Oh… okay," I purr, clinging to Erik as he picks me up and places me on the top of Casper's piano. This is… new. I've had plenty of orgasms in this room, but never from this vantage point.

I let the satiny wood soak into my back for a moment, but when I go up on my elbows, Declan clicks his tongue and presses me down. "Don't move, darlin'. You're an important part of the show."

I melt back onto my luxurious perch with a sigh. "Is Casper going to play Happy Birthday for me?"

My maestro snorts, but immediately launches into a jazzed-up version of the song, leaving it up to Declan to serenade me. I can still feel the lure of his voice when he sings, but since he's given up his siren ways, I'm pretty sure it's just because I'm hopelessly in love with him.

The guys are still regularly involved in their missions, sometimes even flying to other alpha clubs to lend new management a hand. Declan, Patrick and I have been focusing on the illegal gambling trade. It seems fitting after all the damage the Sawyer Pack did, and we also attend auctions disguised as an alpha pack willing to buy an omega. Of course, with Xavier and Eric as backup, we"ve already closed down three auction rings and resettled nearly fifty omegas.

"Turn off that busy mind, mo chroí," Patrick croons as he strokes his fingers across my bottom lip. We might have been the last to technically bond, but we've made up for lost time. Our connection is now so strong, Patrick and I only need to be in the same room and every packmate in the vicinity is suddenly wrestling with their zippers.

"That's a pretty necklace," Xavier adds, his finger skimming over the scars from their bonding bites.

"It's my favorite," I reply, arching up into their touch. "Any time you want to give it a little boost, I'm game."

The guys both swoop – Declan on my mouth and Xavier on my scent gland. It means their shoulders are rubbing together, but we've got pretty good at sharing over the last few months. And, of course, there's the added bonus of all our bonds lighting up like fireworks whenever they run their teeth over my sensitive gland.

But then Casper starts playing one of my favorite pieces. It doesn't have a title yet, but I just call it My Pack. Because it seems to encompass all of them – from dark rooms with computer screens, to soaking tubs with rose petals, to stage lights and stormy beaches. And even though music can't be seen in any obvious way, through it all I catch glimpses of my own song. Bright colors and bursting flavors that I explore with these men, every chance I get.

Which we do now, their hands sliding over me as I dance to Casper's music. He's reached the part where his hands are flying, the notes vibrating up through my skin. I'm bare, my pretty dress gone, and once again they're wringing pleasure out of me, these magical men with their hard hands and soft hearts.

Sometimes Xavier is the conductor, directing all of us to move to his tune. There's nothing hotter than watching the eyeshine burn in his gaze as his packmates make me scream with pleasure.

"What's next?" I ask as I flutter down from what I hope will be the first of many birthday orgasms.

"Time for another chapter from A Mate for the Wolf Pack," Declan drawls with wicked delight.

"Oh, God!" My head hits the piano with a thunk.

We're still working through Casper's sex plan, but Declan has recently bought his favorite romance novels in audiobook. When Kelly and Violet are at the clinic, the guys like to turn the volume way up and act out the steamiest scenes. Not that we need much encouragement to get hot and sweaty. With so many healthy libidos in our pack, we rarely get past the trigger warnings before we're all writhing in our nest.

The irony isn't lost on me… That'd I'd find my perfect pack in an alpha club.

But I guess it all comes down to the nature of the pack… and the plot twist.

Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave a review.