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Prelude
Outcast’s Epilogue
GRIMM
Did it seem like we would have trouble in paradise?
Sure as fuck did.
The Savages, though…
We’re a family,
blood or not, and every family goes through shit from time to time.
We were back on track a week later, trying to figure out the best course of action. Vitus had been right.
The DNA test was the best option to get Frank, the mayor, to back the fuck off.
And so life went on.
My life, specifically.
I grinned up at Brat, and she smiled back.
She loosened her fatal grip on my hair, urging me to come higher.
Not bothering to wipe my face, I rose up and rested between her spread legs. I lightly trailed my fingers over the bruises on her neck.
She’d got her little ass shitfaced off hooch. If I thought Brat was a pain-slut sober, her drunk was a whole new fucking animal.
Last night was a special occasion. Brat took her initiation like a champ, rode me like a pro, goat blood and all, until I took over. My aching balls and happy dick agreed I’d made the right decision. I craved to make her pussy bleed.
“Tell me how happy I make you,” I demanded.
She leaned up, licking her arousal clean off my face, beard and all. “You’re gonna milk this forever, aren’t ya?” she asked with a laugh.
“I can’t put into any more words how happy you’ve made me. Tell me how happy I make you.”
“You just fed me some delicious pussy for breakfast, and let me put a ball and chain on your finger; I’m very fucking happy, Brat.”
She grinned at her diamond, and looked up at me with full adoration. Every time she gave me her eyes, I loved her hellion ass a little more.
The most damaged parts of her soul still shone strong enough to give me a peace I’d never known. That fucking brimstone flaring inside her would forever be my altar to worship.
She was mercy. I was death.
She’d always be Sally. I’d be her Jack.
A goddess like Persephone, to a dark lord like Hades.
Queen of death.
Queen of me.
For always.
ARLEN
Death came to me in the form of a man.
He replaced the halo that had fallen from my head with a crown forged of bone, blood, and desert roses.
He gave me life, but didn’t know it yet.
Looking back at the path I’d walked, I couldn’t believe the woman I’d become, but she was someone I could be proud of. This whole journey was like watching a movie on the big screen.
I sat on the couch with Cali and Katya, relaxing for the final weeks before our lives turned chaotic again.
Across the room stood a man straight out of the darkest of nightmares, and in his arms was a small bundle wrapped in pink. She was our key source of happiness, it seemed, a temporary stress reliever to hold onto for a few moments.
He looked up at me with joy in his eyes as he gently handed her to Cobra. Romero, the bulldog of a dad he was, stood hovering over their shoulders.
I wasn’t sure of the precise moment this gorgeous man had come to mean so much to me.
I think he had had me at the first choke-hold. It just took some time to get the wind in our sails.
He was an angry gray cloud, hovering over my head, just out of a reach. And then the drizzle started, but I didn’t think much of it, because a little rain wasn’t that big a deal.
Before I knew it, he was a thunderstorm that was rapidly becoming something more.
He was as lethal to me as he was alluring—he was my Tartarus hurricane.
I don’t know what gave him the right to sweep in and wreak havoc on my fuckin soul, but I was so glad he had, because he’d destroyed me in the most beautiful way possible.
He showed me how beautiful hell could be and all the wicked delight to be found in the dark.
What seemed like a tragedy at first wound up being a blessing in disguise.
In this world, I was forced to change, to enter uncharted territory to find my true strength and authentic self.
What survived may not be kind, but it was me. As my eyes came to rest on Cobra, I knew that for the best.
It was going to take a helluva lot of bloodshed to make this right.
