But tonight, with my mate’s heartbeat steady against my side and her claiming mark fresh on my neck, I let myself rest.
She’s got me.
And I’ve never felt safer in my life.
25
EPILOGUE
IMANI
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
Seven months ago, I drove up a mountain to clean a cabin for a grumpy bear shifter who hated everyone.
Now I’m sitting on a porch swing watching that same bear shifter argue with his brother about the proper way to change a spark plug.
Life is funny like that.
The swing creaks gently as I rock back and forth, my hands resting on my enormous belly. Our son is active today, rolling and kicking like he’s training for some kind of bear cub Olympics. He’s heavy too, pressing down on my bladder, making my back ache, making me wish for the hundredth time that he’d just come out already.
But I’ve still got two months to go. Two more months of swollen ankles and midnight bathroom trips and Tolin hovering over me like I’m made of glass.
I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Our cabin sits at the edge of clan territory, close enough to walk to Mother Lenora’s but far enough to have privacy. Tolin built the porch swing himself, installed it two weeks ago when I mentioned that my back hurt from sitting in regular chairs. Now I spend most of my afternoons here, watching the clan go about their business, feeling like I finally belong somewhere.
The green chair is inside, positioned by the fireplace where I can curl up and read on cold evenings. The leather couch we picked out is there too, and the oak dining table, and the cherry wood bedroom set. Every piece of furniture we bought that day at Cozy Corner, arranged in a home that’s really, truly ours.
But it’s not the furniture that makes it home. It’s him.
“You’re doing it wrong.” Ronan’s voice carries across the yard from where he’s bent over Tolin’s truck.
“I’m doing it the way I’ve always done it.”
“Which is wrong.”
“Just because you’re Alpha doesn’t mean you know everything about engines.”
“I fixed your mate’s car, didn’t I?” Ronan straightens up, wiping his hands on a rag. “The one you ripped the door off of?”
“Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Never.”
I smile, watching them bicker. They’ve been at it for an hour now, arguing about everything from spark plugs to oil filters to whether the truck needs new brake pads. Neither of them is willing to back down, neither willing to admit the other might have a point.
Some things never change.
The sound of footsteps on the path makes me look up.Mother Lenora is walking toward the cabin, a covered dish in her hands.
“I brought pie,” she announces, climbing the porch steps. “Apple. Your favorite.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” She settles into the chair beside my swing, setting the pie on the small table between us. “But you’re growing my grandcub. The least I can do is keep you fed.”
I laugh, rubbing my belly as the cub kicks again. “He’s definitely growing. I think he’s doubled in size this week alone.”
