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His back expanded on a great breath, the muscles shifting beneath his shirt, and Clara couldn’t help but lay the knife down and drift her fingers over his body to map the breadth of him. “Malik, Polina, they’re memories, ghosts of a time when I thought my station meant more than what it does now. I think a part of me was still trying to cling to that, to them. But you are my present, my reality, my future. I was so wrapped up in my goddamn head that I couldn’t see what my heart and a frickin’ goddess were trying to show me all along.”
Then he lifted his head, and Clara’s breath caught at the earnestness that stared back at her. “There will never be enough sunrises for me to express how sorry I am, nor will there be enough sunsets for me to vow against the moon how ardently I love you. But I’ll keep doing it, day after day, night after night, because you’re the first whispered word of my heart each time I rise and the last thought of my soul before I sleep. I love you, Clara. I need you to know that and to know that I’ll happily follow you wherever you lead because you’re the strongest being I know, and this sentinel of the Empyrean recognizes nothing above the strength of his queen.”
There were words she meant to say, she was sure of it. Really powerful, monarch-worthy words that would have the male before her cower in fear. But, well, he was already cowering, wasn’t he? And there were entire summits one had to climb before they could truly ascend to the heights he’d already placed her at, weren’t there?
The tears that spilled over her cheeks smoothed away her doubts and answered her questions. All except one.
Clara moved her hands over the sides of his shorn scalp, curling her fingers around the downy skin above his ears. “Why?”
He grabbed up her hands, kissing her palms first, then the tattoo on her wrist. “Because I support my queen, now and always.”
The vastness of the forest fell away from her. The vibrant greens above and loamy soil below were nothing more than vague sensations as she flung herself at him. And with the reflexes of a true warrior, Bronze caught her with practiced precision and guided them both to the soft earth. She didn’t care about crushing him or dousing the poor male in a pool of her tears. It was the least he deserved and nowhere near the most of what she hoped for him. Oh, Moon Mother, she was a mess as she kissed him soundly and, yes, emotionally. Tears fled from her cheeks to his, chasing down both the cause and the cure for her present state of turmoil. But it wasn’t until those strong arms banded around her back and pulled the tension free from her taut muscles that the words of her heart were let loose and finally permitted to soar free.
“I don’t know how or why any of this happened, but I don’t really care. My wolf, a far less emotional creature than me, mind you, claimed you from the moment she first smelled you in the forest, before I’d even fully risen to consciousness. But love has a way of carving out the meat from the fat, and nothing would gladden my lycan heart more than to spend the rest of my days filled with you by my side as my soul bond. My mate. My love.”
His eyes misted over, and he squeezed her close as he blinked away the emotion pooling there. But when he opened his eyes again, they’d taken on a darker hue. “And don’t forget consort. I kind of like the way that sounds. Gives off a naughty vibe, don’t you think?”
On any other day, Clara would have rolled her eyes and begged the Moon Mother for patience and understanding. On this day, however, she mentally closed the curtain on any and all intrusions from fates heretofore known and unknown and made it her personal mission to consort with her soulmate in as many ways as her heart and wolf could imagine.
Epilogue
It only took her about three months, but Clara was finally able to hold a piece of paper without thinking the thing would bite her or bring the untimely downfall of her monarchy.
Turned out, what she currently held in her hands would bring the exact opposite to her people: a gigantic cash fall.
“This is the fourth contract with human business owners this month. If this keeps up, we’ll be able to expand our holdings into the natural reserves north of Montreal. I know many of the lycans have wanted more secure land for their second homes, and this lumber contract with those new developers will ensure that.”
Bronze lifted his bare arms high and swung his carbon-fiber ax into the tree stump he’d been hacking away at. The wood promptly fell to pieces beneath his strength.
Much like she had a habit of doing, but she’d never admit it to him lest he keep her in their bed for weeks and never get anything done.
“It seems those mortals have the right of it, too,” he said, tossing the hunks of wood into the back of a pull cart and grabbing his discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. “Everyone else is building out those huge multifamily townhome monstrosities that nobody wants. These guys are at least building actual single-family homes with the whole backyard and double-wide driveway large enough for a basketball hoop and shit. They’d be fools not to sign with you, especially given our access to top-quality lumber.” Then he walked over to her and gave her the same two kisses he always did when he got that dreamy-eyed look that told her he was proud of her.
One on her mouth and one on the side of her bald scalp.
Well, technically, it was an undercut, according to Bronze.
Clara touched the area on her head where he’d kissed her and dragged her fingers through the short fall of hair that began an inch or so above her ear and swooped across the rest of her head before falling at her chin. The idea for the style had come to her after the heat of the summer made head wraps unbearable. Wending her way in and out of Bronze’s world, she’d seen females with all sorts of hairstyles. Some styled short in a pixie fashion, and, like hers, buzzed on the sides, except still worn long and wavy.
There was freedom in the way human women owned their styles, and in many ways, Clara wanted to immortalize her own freedom. So, she kept her hair trimmed close to her scalp, where it had been shorn during the games in testament to her reclamation of power and how she would always use it in defense of her people.
Plus, she kind of adored the feel of Bronze’s goatee brushing along her scalp, and as it seemed a favorite site for him to adore, she saw no reason to change it.
The expansion of business for her people had been another feat that had not only thrilled her heart but challenged her mind and business acumen for the first time in her life. With Bronze’s help and the guidance of Pascal and her other advisors, she’d been able to establish safe and secure ways for the lycans to not only engage with human businesses but aggressively pursue them.
Turned out, under Bronze’s guidance, trade industries, architecture, agriculture, and tourism had been the largest boons her people had ever seen. With skills honed over centuries that the humans couldn’t manage without expensive schooling and apprenticeships, the lycans had been able to compete and advance in arenas her father had long shunned for being too lowborn: carpentry, crafts, construction, lumber. As the queen’s consort, Bronze had facilitated all the contracts, inspecting the working environments to ensure lycan compatibility with minimal long-term exposure to metal and electronics. Sure, computer and general office jobs were largely out of the question for her people, but they had no problem with that.
Especially when word had gotten around over the past three months about the quality of their products and services across the various companies the monarchy and many of the lycans now controlled and operated.
It was a mighty cash fall, indeed.
“Have you thought about him at all?” Bronze jumped up onto the back of the cart and drew her close to him, wrapping the delicious weight of his arms around her. “Your father?”
A heavy sigh threatened to drag her shoulders down, but Bronze’s support and the earthy comfort of his skin buoyed her. It had been a long time since they’d spoken of her decision regarding her father’s fate, but the more she aired it out, the less it weighed on her.
“I’ve thought about him more than he deserves, quite honestly. But it’s getting easier. Every time I encounter one of his previous paradigms throughout the kingdom and alter it in some way, I wipe a bit more of him out of existence, and that’s a great relief. Sometimes I wonder whether I made the right choice in exiling him to the western lycan territories instead of executing him outright, but then I remember the shock on his face when I declared his fate in front of his former advisors and guards and how rewarding the satisfaction was, as was expunging the first of his many corrupt edicts: no more executions.”
“Poetic justice.”
