by Keri Lake
I trail my gaze over each person. Survivors who passed through those walls and somehow made it out on the other side.
A hand reaches out for me, and when I look up, it belongs to the blonde who now wears a smile. I return her handshake.
“I’m Johanna. Your father freed us. All of us. We’ve been waiting a long time for you, Wren. Welcome to Harmony Hills.”
EPILOGUE 1
Wren
Eight months later …
* * *
Toeing the loose board of the front porch, I frown and keep on with my rocking. The creak of the rocking chair keeps time with the shells we gathered from the beach a few months ago, where they dangle from strings like a windchime. Dusk has begun to settle over the back of the house, creating an orange-pink sky against a silhouette of palm trees. Beside me, Cali cradles the baby, smiling down at her where she sits on a cushioned swing.
“God, she’s so beautiful, Wren. Baby Sarai. I love it.” I named her after my sister, who didn’t get much time in this world. With golden locks that curl at the end, she looks like she could’ve been a triplet to her and my brother, Abel.
The baby shifts in her arms, hands balled into fists that she swipes at her mouth--the telltale sign of needing to be fed soon. Sure enough, her face scrunches up, and when she releases her tiny fingers, realizing they contain no milk, a nasally cry signals her frustration.
I gather Sarai up into my arms, exposing Cali’s bulging belly beneath.
“How are you feeling?” I take my seat again and pull my tank down for the too-swollen breast that leaks with the need to be emptied.
“Pretty good. Ready to pop.” Cali sets her hands on either side of her belly and smiles. “Is it weird that I’m looking forward to labor?”
“No, not at all. I think that’s God’s way of lessening our fears. Making us so miserable in the last month that we don’t give a damn how painful it is to get this kid out of our body.” A chuckle escapes me as I run my fingers over the top of Sarai’s head. “Got any names picked out?”
“If it’s a girl? Bryani, after my sister. And if it’s a boy …” She lowers her gaze, her expression solemn. “Cadmus. After his father.”
“You’re certain it’s his baby?”
“It was the last time I was in estrus. From what I understand, it stops with pregnancy, just like a menstrual cycle.” She’s told me a bit about estrus and how it worked. How much pain she would be forced to suffer, if not given relief by an Alpha, and that in Valdys’s absence, it was Cadmus who provided her some comfort. It isn’t fair, the way Calico used her body as a vessel, made her a guinea pig for their twisted experiments.
“How does Valdys feel about it?” In the last eight months, I’ve grown closer to Cali, who’s become like the younger sister I didn’t get a chance to grow up with.
Her lips stretch into a genuinely happy smile at the sound of her Alpha’s name. “I honestly don’t think I deserve Valdys sometimes, you know? He told me …” Eyes filling with tears, she chuckles as she wipes them away. “Sorry. Not used to these hormones.” Clearing her throat, she pushes the hair behind her ears. “He told me it would be an honor to raise his Alpha brother’s child as his own. If I thought my excitement was anything to go by, he can hardly keep his hands off me, or my belly, lately.”
“Six was the same way.” Staring down at my little girl, I smile, recalling the many nights he lay talking to her in the womb, obsessed with the idea of becoming a father. “I always felt self-conscious about my big belly, but the way he looked at me … it was like he saw something I didn’t.”
“Valdys is the same. He’s been somewhat … ravenous lately.” Her cheeks blush as she says this, while her hands fidget in her lap. Even with a belly, she remains small, considerably so when she’s standing beside her massive Alpha. He seems like he could easily turn rough with her, but she’s told me a number of times what a gentle lover he is.
“I think it’s an Alpha thing. They get worked up seeing us with enormous boobs and bellies.”
“Ugh. Speaking of enormous boobs.” Rubbing her arm against the side of one, she winces. “Are they supposed to be so tender?”
“Wait until the milk comes in. Rock city.”
“Guess that’s the only thing I’m not looking forward to.”
“It’s all worth it, though. The first time you hear them cry, it’s like … the whole world just doesn’t matter anymore.”
Smiling, she nods. “I look forward to that.”
Three figures emerge from the woods ahead. None of them wear a shirt, which shows off the sweat glistening across their skin from a long day’s work framing another house in the community. Tripp pats Six on the back and waves, as he heads off in the opposite direction, toward the house he shares with one of the women he met a few months back, and his daughter, Trinity.
Six and Valdys stride toward us, laughing and sipping their waters, as if they’ve known each other for years.
Feels that way. In fact, sometimes I look around this place and wonder if I’m trapped in an impossible dream. Perhaps that bite all those months back killed me and this is Heaven. Here, with people I love and care about, and those who’ve become family.
It won’t always be this way, of course. Someday, I’ll yearn for the world beyond, and the safety of these walls won’t hold the animal that breathes inside of me, clawing for its freedom. By then, perhaps my children will be old enough to teach the ways of the land, like Papa taught me. How to survive and respect that, at any moment, everything can be swiped by something bigger. Stronger.
For now, though, this is my home. My reality and my world.
When Valdys catches sight of Cali, his eyes light up, and suddenly she seems to be the only thing that exists for him as he makes his way toward her.
A presence before me draws my attention toward Six, who leans forward to kiss his daughter’s forehead as she feeds, half covered by small blanket draped over my shoulder. “How’s my baby girl?”
“Hungry, it seems.”
“So is daddy.”
“There’s fresh bread on the counter and stew in the pot.”
His lips find my throat, teeth nipping my skin, and I breathe in the scent of masculinity--sweat and dirt over the faint aroma of the soap from his shower this morning. “I wasn’t talking about food.”
Smiling, I glance over to see Valdys bury his face in Cali’s neck, oblivious to the two of us. “Then, you can put your daughter to sleep, so mama can get in a quick bath.” I’d never taken a bath in my life, before coming to Harmony Hills, but being as most of the solar power here isn’t being used to carry out grotesque experiments on innocent people in some massive facility, they’ve been able to use it to enhance the offerings in this community. In some ways, I’m living the life my mother once lived. Maybe the life she dreamed of for me and my siblings.
“Gladly,” he says, before planting a kiss to my forehead. When he stands upright, Valdys offers him a handshake.
“See you tomorrow, brother.” Taking Cali’s hand, he heads toward the house they share in the next lot. One just as big, with as many amenities.
When Six turns around, the roguish grin on his face reminds me of the mute boy I knew all those years ago.
The one who still makes my stomach flutter.
Finished in the bathroom, I lean against the doorframe, and smile when I catch sight of Six. Across our bedroom, he stands freshly showered with damp hair, holding our little girl in his arms. She looks so much smaller tucked against his massive chest and bicep, so safe and protected.
Planting a kiss to her forehead, he lowers her down into the moses basket beside the bed, and he stares down at her for a moment, like he can’t bear the thought of not holding her.
“I can’t decide what’s more attractive. You without a shirt, or you wearing a shirt with spit-up stains all over it.”
Snorting, he twists toward me, and the smile on his face fades to something else. Something he doesn’t need to say
in words, because from the way his eyes rove my body and his tongue sweeps across his lips, I know exactly what’s on his mind.
With one more glance down at Sarai, he strides across the room toward me, and without so much as a hello, he tugs the robe from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Lips devour mine in a kiss that steals my breath, stirring a dizzy sensation in me, and I have to wrap my arms around him to keep from falling. A groan rumbles in his throat, and my body is lifted up into his arms, my legs straddling his waist.
He carries us to the bed, where he sits on the edge, running his hands up and down my thighs. Mouth plundering. Silent. Aggressive. This is what I love most about Six. When he wants something, he doesn’t mince words, because he doesn’t speak them, at all. He takes and gives just as equally.
Edging himself back onto the bed, he nudges me with his groin.
I lift up just enough for him to yank down his pants, and he kicks them off somewhere behind me. I didn’t bother to wear anything beneath robe, which places my naked lower half against the ridges of his stomach, which glide beneath my sex as he urges my hips back and forth, fingers curling into my flesh. His thumb slides down my seam, tickling the sensitive nub that stirs my desires in a way that only Six can. Head tipped back, he clenches his jaw, while he spreads my arousal over his skin.
His torment.
My torment is wanting him inside me so much my thighs ache.
Reaching between us, he angles his tip so that it hits my entrance every time I drag myself down his stomach. I dare say he loves the game of holding out, the anticipation of sex more than the act itself, but he would disagree.
He tells me frequently there is nothing in the world he enjoys more.
Except maybe holding his little girl.
He runs his hands over my body, down my hips, to my thighs and across my belly, until his big palms find my breasts. Brows winged up, he looks like a man pained by his own pleasure as he teases my nipples that jut out at his wicked touch.
Arching into him, I run my fingers through his short-cropped hair, mind focused on the prod of his tip sliding across my seam, begging for entrance.
“Six, please.” I whisper the word mindlessly, my sodden core desperate to be filled and stretched.
Eyes closed, I feel the first notch inside of me, when he gives a small thrust. Another notch. Thrust. And another, until he’s so deep, it’s as though he’s breached my womb.
He lets out a long, agonized groan, stirring his hips beneath me, and he guides me up and down, along his shaft.
“Goddamn, Wren.” Veins in his neck pop as he slams his head into the pillow, eyes closed.
The sight of him possessed by pleasure goads me on, and I grind into him, hands planted against his chest. Thighs locked, he rolls me onto my back, and as I squirm to lie on my stomach, he grips my chin, holding me in place.
“No. I need to see your face.” He doesn’t release his hold, as he stares into my eyes while driving into me.
I reach up to touch the scar across his eye, and down to the one at his throat. How far we’ve come from that day, when I first saw him on the other side of the wall. Starving and alone.
In many ways, we’re different from the young boy and girl who stole away and kissed all hours of the night, until the sun came up. Who lay beneath the scorching sun at midday, exploring each other’s bodies.
Yet, in many ways, we’re the same.
He’s still the scarred boy who touched my heart. And I’m the wounded little bird, whose wings he made fly again.
EPILOGUE 2
Cali
Eight years later …
* * *
Sunlight warms my skin, as I lie stretched on the blanket, watching the young blond boy hold a stick as a sword that he gently knocks against the stick belonging to a younger dark haired boy. The two of them remind me so much of their fathers. Much smaller versions, of course.
“You can’t defeat an Alpha! We’re the greatest fighters in the world!” the blond says to the younger boy, holding up his sword in victory.
They only know of the Alphas from the many stories kept alive by the other members of the community, the survivors of Calico, who praise the men and have made them legends of our history. Never to be forgotten.
“I don’ wanna be Wegion. I wanna be Awpha, too!” The dark haired one throws the stick down and stands with his arms crossed, angry, stubborn--a trait I’m certain he gets from me.
The sight of him brings a smile to my face, but more heartwarming than that is when his older brother kneels down in front of him, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder, and tips his head, whispering something.
I sit forward, straining to listen over the rustle of trees above me, trying to make out what he’s saying to him. Whatever it is, the youngest smiles and picks up his stick, and they’re back at it again, knocking swords in battle. I ease back, but pause at a massive and imposing figure standing off beyond them. One familiar to me, otherwise I’d have gathered the boys up, thinking it a threat. I push to my feet and squint my eyes, trying to determine if he’s real, or imagined. It happens sometimes, in the thick of my thoughts, and today, I’m feeling particularly vulnerable. Perhaps because, today, I saw so much of him in our son while he played.
“Cadmus?” I call out to him, blinking to hold back tears.
He lifts his hand to wave, that roguish grin stretching his lips.
Screwing my eyes shut, I suck in a deep breath and exhale. “Verisimilitude,” I whisper, and when I open my eyes again, he’s gone. Fizzled away, like every other time before.
A tug at my shirt draws my attention to where my older son stands before me.
“Mama? You called me?”
I run my fingers through his curls and smile. “No, love. I thought I saw something.” Crouching in front of him, I stare back at the bright green eyes that mirror his father’s, and brush the hair from his face. “What did you whisper to your brother?”
He glances back to where his baby brother stands swinging his stick around in play. “I just told him Alpha brothers don’t fight each other. And somebody has to be the bad guy.”
A soft, caressing familiarity springs goosebumps across my skin, as I recall the many times his father said these very words to me. “And your brother, he agreed to this?”
“Only when I said he could play Alpha next time.”
Lifting his hands, I kiss his knuckles and smile. “Somebody has to be the bad guy.”
He nods, and his eyes catch on something behind me, sparkling as his face lights up with a smile. “Dad!”
I twist around to see Valdys striding toward us, six rabbits hanging from his fist. The youngest boy, Cyrus, who bears his father’s real name, scampers past me, after his big brother.
“Daddy!” he squeals, dropping his stick along the way, while his tiny legs try to keep up.
Valdys kneels down to scoop both boys into his arms, and somehow manages to lift them up, one handed, never dropping either of his quarry.
Cadmus doesn’t yet know who his real father is, though I plan to tell him someday, when he’ll better understand. For now, I want him to grow up feeling happy and whole. To know that he’s loved, regardless of his missing pieces. But when he’s older, I’ll have stories to share of the man I knew. The good man beneath the scars.
Valdys plants a kiss to each of their heads and strides toward me, handing off the rabbits that I’ll prepare for dinner later.
“Does this mean you have a free arm to carry me, too?”
“Always.” He smiles against my lips and bends just enough to grab hold of my legs.
The rabbits slip from my grasp, falling to the ground, as Valdys’s shoulder knocks against my belly, hoisting me up, and I let out an involuntary scream.
I stretch my arms out against his back to keep from smacking my face, and the laughter of the boys makes me chuckle, adding pressure to my sinuses.
“What do you say, boys? She’ll make a fine stew, don’t you think?
”
“No!” Cadmus screams and breaks into hysterical laughter.
“No, Daddy. Momma not for to eat.”
I don’t even have to see his adorable pudgy, little face to know his teeth are clenched in anger. Protective, just like his father.
“I wouldn’t hurt your mama, little man. But maybe you’d like to fight me on that.”
“Yeah!” Both boys bellow in unison, and Valdys sets all three of us down, pausing to plant a kiss to my lips.
He turns toward where both boys run off, presumably after their sticks, and when he twists to face me again, his brows are kicked up. “I disagree with the youngest. Momma is definitely for to eat. Later tonight.” He buries his face in my neck, and I giggle as he growls, nipping at my collarbone.
“I’ll get started on this stew.”
As he pulls away from me, I gaze into his gray eyes and run my finger down his temple. The scars on his face are the vestiges of a past we try to put behind us everyday. One I hope my children never know. “Cyrus looks so much like you. And Cadmus is looking more like him everyday.”
“He is. It’s almost as if he’s here now.”
“He’s always here. And now he always will be.”
“You think he planned that on purpose?”
Snorting a laugh, I give a nod. “Knowing Cadmus? Definitely.” I catch a glimpse of the boys running back toward us, and the naturally wily grin on Cadmus’s face, as he races after his brother. “But I’m glad. It’s nice to see him.” The day Cadmus was born and I first gazed into those familiar eyes, ran my fingers over the soft baby curls, was the day the hole in my heart finally sealed.
The day the world gave back a small piece of what it had taken from me.
“It is.”
The hard smack of a stick startles Valdys, and he shoots me a grin, before he growls and spins around after the boys, hobbling like a mutation.