Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses #3)(100)

Picking up a long, slender kitchen knife, I grip the handle tight in my hand and sigh, looking over my ex one last time. Disgust and anger boil inside me, blocking out any other emotions right now, and I cock my head to the side.

“Any last words, Mr. Covington?”

His cuffs clink together as his hands move, and I smirk when he lifts his middle finger.

“Yeah,” I say, reaching down and pinching his dick between two fingers, bringing the sharp edge of the blade to the underside of the crown. “Fuck you, too.”





EPILOGUE





“The face that launched a thousand ships.” Lenny frowns, moving backward across the room as she taps a brush against the corner of her mouth. “That kind of sounds like an insult, don’t you think?”

I don’t look up from the floating shelf I’m working on mounting, though her every movement registers in my peripheral anyway. Ever since the night I found her at Primrose Manor months ago, covered in her father’s blood, I can’t stop paying attention.

“Girl started a whole war just because she was pretty.” Lenny shakes her head, holding her thumb up for reference to the wall where she’s painting a Helen of Troy mural. “Tell me that’s not the most dramatic thing you’ve ever heard.”

“More dramatic than the time you decided to renovate the entire beach house out of boredom?”

Hands on her hips, she turns to me with narrowed eyes. Gorgeous, seafoam-green that I wish I could deep dive into and drown in.

“You told me to pick a passion project for my portfolio. I fail to understand how you didn’t see this coming.”

Fair enough. Especially since the only reason she decided to start community college courses was because I encouraged her to.

The events at Primrose Manor sparked a huge wave of controversy surrounding her family, even though the bodies inside were given manufactured fates, per the request of Mrs. Primrose. According to official records, Tom suffered a heart attack and died peacefully in his bed, while Preston went missing during a yacht outing.

His body has yet to be recovered, but only because I burned him alive after Lenny made him a eunuch.

The press cared far less about either of the deaths than we anticipated; in fact, most of the controversy came when Mrs. Primrose put the compound up for sale and hightailed it back to Savannah, leaving her three kids behind without a word.

Since I’d already been there, done that, I suggested Lenny explore her newfound freedom.

After weeks of watching her sob into her pillow every night, sometimes only showering when I picked her up and made her, and an endless stream of Elena or her brothers stopping by to keep her company, she finally went to therapy.

A few weeks later, she’d enrolled in some online courses for an interior design program, stating that she wanted to try and combine her love of shopping with that of art.

Which is why I’m standing in our spare bedroom building a bloody bookshelf instead of fucking her on the couch downstairs, or on the kitchen island, or on the back porch in celebration of my mum finally moving out.

She’d technically already moved to a cottage on the south side of the island some months ago, but she retrieved the last of her things from the crawlspace today.

Things between us aren’t what she was probably hoping for, but I am trying, at least. It’s more than I think she deserves, but I’m limited on family.

And if, by some bloody miracle, Lenny decides she ever wants to bear my children, I think they deserve to have a grandmother in their lives, even if she couldn’t be the mother in mine when I needed her.

Still, my intention upon returning from my pub today was to christen as many surfaces in the house as possible in celebration of our official engagement.

Alistair, surprisingly, was the one to goad me into doing it. He’s become something of a sap over the last few months, and I dare say I know why, although he’s yet to admit it.

I won’t push him on it. We’re still working on our relationship, too.

The diamond ring on Lenny’s finger glitters in the bedroom light, and I reach out, grabbing her wrist and tugging her into me.

My lips trail up the side of her neck, and she sighs, leaning into the touch. “Mm,” she moans, tilting her head to give me better access. I bite down on her pulse, making her jolt, and then bring my hand up to push aside the raggedy shirt she has on.

Though slightly faded, the W etched into her skin is still plainly visible, and each time I see it, I’m filled with a primal haze of lust.

It’s insane, sure, but I love knowing that if anyone ever touches her again, they’ll know who they’re fucking with.

“All right,” she says, reaching up to tangle her fingers in my hair. “We can take a break, I guess.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” In seconds, I have her naked and writhing on the floor, my tongue spearing between her thighs.

She trembles violently, and as I look up at her, I swear that I’ve never seen anything more bloody beautiful.

Devastatingly alluring and completely terrifying, Lenny Primrose (soon-to-be Wolfe) could easily start another war in her lifetime.

And I would be at the helm of the very first ship, leading the charge into battle.

Simply because she’s mine.





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