SOMETHING felt different when I awoke from the darkness.

Maybe it was the fact that the pain didn't linger against my skin anymore. Perhaps it was the fact that Kylo didn't rest in my uterus anymore. The baby meant to come into this world never took his first breath. I never had the chance to see my darling little boy grow up.

He was gone. Kylo was gone.

Maybe neither of those were the blaring difference I felt. However, none of it mattered. More important things rang through my mind. For example, I had no idea where I was. A dark, windowless room gave no clues to my location.

The feeling of starchy paper seeped against my back. Meanwhile, no scents filled the area — it smelled antiseptic, thus suggesting a medical practice. So, I realized it was a table on which I laid.

I sat up, feeling no ache in my back, unlike any typical day. Even before becoming pregnant, my regular wake-up routine included pain arching in my back for a moment as I stretched. Sabia always said that I inherited my father's double joints.

In the silence, I slowly lifted one leg. In the dull palette of grays, I could see the slender shape of my limbs. For some reason, they seemed more elongated than before.

"What happened?" I muttered to myself.

All of a sudden, I noticed someone in the shadows next to the table. I saw a woman. In the dark palette, her cowl crop top seemed only visible through its wrinkles. With her appearance, a humming sound blared against my ears.

"You want to know the truth?" the woman asked. She spoke with the same sharp twang as Athan. They bore some form of relationship based on the fact that her eyes were red, but not the same red as Athan. Her eyes seemed to have more of brownish-red pigment instead of the orpiment of wine. "Look in the mirror."

With those words, color pooled into the room. Reflective glass panels made up the walls. I could see the tall table, but strangely, I couldn't find myself in any of the mirrors. "How is this possible that I see nothing?" I glanced at the woman as the question left my mouth. What happened? "I'm a wolf, right?"

"First off," the woman said, "I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Aurelia Solano." She brushed her hair through her thick, midnight curls. Those tresses billowed softly in the room. Laced through her ringlets, strings filled with wooden beads, charms, Paua shells, and red garnets tapered off into stiff feathers. After a moment, Aurelia said, "I'm your creator."

"Creator?" The words felt weird on my lips. After all, the sound of it gave off this vibe: I was Frankenstein, and Aurelia was Doctor Frankenstein, who, by the power of science (lightning, notably), renewed his monster's life—"It's alive, it's alive, it's alive!"

"You died on the table," Aurelia explained, tapping the light brown dots that decorated her nose. "Luckily, I took a sip of your blood and saved you."

"So, I'm undead?" The words tasted weird on my tongue.

Aurelia nodded her head. "Like me. And I'm sorry—"

It all came back to me.

Come home.

Those words weren't a part of a dream; I had spent time with my son in the afterlife.

"Yet, you didn't save my son?" I asked, my voice slowly swelling like the violent tides that my ancestor faced upon escaping slavery in Mexico. I rose from the table and made my way over to her. "Why?" I pinned her against the wall. "Why didn't you save my son?"

"It's against the Vampiric Code," Aurelia explained and pushed me away. "The Sicilian Coterie would've dismembered me and threw me in a fire. And frankly, your son wasn't even vital. Not even an incubator could've saved him."

The words echoed against my brain: Not even an incubator could've saved him. Again and again, I replayed what Aurelia said. I wanted to cry, but it was impossible. My son was gone. "My son," I whispered, and my voice broke.

Aurelia enveloped me into her overflowing chest. "It's okay. There was nothing you could do."

"He had a heartbeat," I breathed against her chest. "Now, it's gone."

"There was nothing you could do," she repeated, stroking my hair.

I kept my eyes on the floor. "It's my fault." Slowly, I gazed into Aurelia's eyes. "I took four Advils within twelve hours. Athan said they were bad for Kylo."

"Why did you take Advil?" Aurelia asked.

"I had these bad headaches from all the stress," I explained. "I—"

All of a sudden, a voice flashed through my head: You haven't seen the last of me.

"Beatriz"—Aurelia waved a hand in front of my face—"you look like you saw a ghost. What's wrong?"

"I'm in deep shit," I muttered.

"Why?" Aurelia asked wildness swirled in her eyes.

"A girl I thought I killed is alive," I explained, wishing sweat would've rolled down my skin. "I thought she was dead. I don't know how she survived the fire, but according to my link to the wolves, she's alive, and she has intentions to intentions to see me again. She said I hadn't seen the last of her."

"I don't see how this answers the question," Aurelia admitted with a soft giggle.

"Not only did I tell my husband that this woman was dead," I went on, "I lied to him about how I thought she died: I didn't say I started the fire."

"How ironic!" Aurelia remarked, curling her lips into a smile. "I, too, have told a lie. And recently as well. I told your husband that you were dead. I told my brother you died." She began to laugh. "How hilarious is that?"

I narrowed my eyes and muttered, "Hilarious." In silence, we stared at one another until I pursed my lips. "Wait — Athan is your brother?"

"Older by a minute," Aurelia added. "He fought me in the womb to be the eldest." She chuckled softly. Her gaze brushed the ground. "Little rascal."

"So, you're a vampire?" I said. "And I'm a vampire, too."

"More of a wolf-vampire hybrid," Aurelia corrected me. "But, anyways, you must understand that forbidden fruit like you are hard to find. I'm addicted. I need you—" she batted her thick eyelashes "—for one night. Please?"

"Aur—"

Before I could finish, Aurelia placed two fingers over my lips. "Shh." She closed the space between us. "Let it happen. You owe me this."

Memories flashed across my brain. I was thirteen and had only returned to regular schooling after being taken out of school at eleven due to not having shapeshifted like the others. Upon my return, I noticed how much Keanna had changed in two years. I saw how two small bumps gave a pubescent shape to the upper portion of her blouse. I remember thinking that she was beautiful.

Sadly, the thought remained in my brain for the following few days. So, after dinner at the end of the week, I drove Kyran away from the kitchen by telling Sabia I wanted to have the talk. When my brother left to join his buddies in the ritual of toilet-papering the Alpha's manor, I explained my situation to Sabia. To my predicament, Sabia assured me it meant nothing; a lot of female wolf shapeshifters my age likely thought the same thing.

Maybe it did mean something.

Whatever I felt wouldn't stop Aurelia from placing her hands on my cheeks. Within a moment, her vibrant red lips pressed against mine.

I had my mouth shut, unable to react to Aurelia's move immediately. At the same time, my eyes were wide open, nearly frozen in shock that this vampire found me attractive — attractive for one night.

After a moment of soft kisses showering my lips, I gave in, wrapping my arms around Aurelia's neck. Energy pressed against the back of my legs, and I propelled forward, closing the space.

Aurelia made the next move, encircling my waist. And if that wasn't enough, she smiled against my lips and moaned.

Your turn.

In response, I tested the waters by moaning. Was I supposed to do that? It was hard to decipher who would receive the most pleasure since of its suddenty. After all, who can gain pleasure when my thoughts wouldn't shut up.

Too fast? Too slow?

Do vampires even get pleasure?

Am I even myself?

Aurelia then pulled away, but not far. Little space lingered between us — maybe a centimeter or less, like a tiny dot from the sharp tip of a pencil. She traced my cheek with her thumb. "Your husband should feel lucky to have you," she breathed against my lips. "You are so beautiful. Look."

With the flick of her finger, I saw someone almost unrecognizable in the mirror. There, a woman with a height of five feet and seven inches stood. She stared back at me with round, brown eyes that swirled with rims of gold. Two cowlicks spilled from her scalp, slowly swaying from side to side. However, the most tragic of it all—the hamartia—was the slight roundness to her frame. It remained there as a reminder of who this woman's identity and everything she did wrong.

It was me in the mirror.

Soon, Aurelia's lips pressed against my ear, letting out icy notes: "Ciao, bella." In the mirror, her reflection appeared distorted between two glass panels. But she was next to me. Slowly, two fingers rested under my chin, guiding me in her direction. "Ti voglio."

"What do those words mean?" I asked, drawing closer to her lips. Hues of red wine painted her lips, which moved with every centimeter of space that disappeared between us. Something about this vampire brought back early memories.

According to Sabia, when born, a wolf's first week of life consisted of visions depicting our future; however, they never stayed in our memories for long. But, I guess maybe one glance could drag the image back.

"Hello, beautiful," Aurelia answered, closing the space. "I want you." And our lips met.

Against my brain, a trio of voices—two consisting of a similar twang, the other bearing what I grew up calling normal—clamored:

"Aurelia, my sister, come. She's losing too much blood already."

"Brother, what shall I do?"

"Grab a towel for when the baby comes. This will become messy — I mean, messier. Also —"

"Athan fucking Solano, what the fuck did you do to my wife?"

"Rylan Castilla, I did nothing. This had nothing to do with me. I think the better question is, why didn't your wife want to come back when the emergency started?"

"Are insinuating I abuse Triz?"

"No, sir. I meant to mention that there might be some mountains in your relationship, and you never even paid attention."

"Oh—"

"Boys, stop bickering and get in here. The fetus—"

"Baby! It's a baby, you bloodsucking vampire!"

"Sorry, wolf. Your child is dead, and your wife is losing too much blood. It's a hemorrhage. So, both of you say your goodbyes."

"What? Sister, save her!"

"I don't know if I can get there in time. I'll try to save her."

Our bodies moved in sync. Our lips moved together in harmony.

"Can I undress you?" Aurelia asked.

I leaned into her lips. "Yes," I breathed. "Can I undress you?" I craved to feel her skin against mine. The need for skin to skin rushed through me.

Aurelia nodded her head and intertwined her hands with the hem of my tee-shirt. Two fingers dug into my waist. She whirled around and pinned my hips to the side of the table. Ecstacy raced through me as she tore my shirt from my body.

I had to have this. I needed something new. Hungrily, I yanked her cowl crop-top from her torso and tossed it onto the floor. However, I required more. So, I ripped her lacy black bra from her chest.

A pair of silky, rounded breasts throbbed against my site. They blended perfectly with her pale skin.

"They're beautiful," I muttered.

Aurelia didn't reply. She remained focused on my breasts. "What do you want?" she asked. In her eyes, I could see the silent explanation of the context.

With Rylan, it didn't matter what we did. Somehow, whatever he wanted would pleasure me. Having sex with him seemed pleasure in itself.

Aurelia, on the other hand, seemed to care what pleasured me. In her eyes, she showed genuine interest in how I wanted to do it.

What did I want? I traced my memories back to the time when Reyna, after asking me if it was okay, loaned me a book on sex positions. I was a junior, and thinking of it now, she was the first person to know about the relationship between Rylan and me. Maybe it was due to her ties to the Moon Haven that allowed her to accept us since she said nothing to the Alpha.

The book contained images of varying positions and mechanisms. At nights, I would test some of these out naked in my bed after finding assurance that Sabia was asleep or at least gone. Finding out what pleasured you by yourself wasn't against the rules of Howl Falls; however, under Sabia's roof, it was banned.

I drew Aurelia to my lips and breathed, "First, I want you to lift me onto the table."

Aurelia guided my legs over her full, rounded hips and hoisted me onto the table. She then showered my lips with kisses. As she pulled away for a second, only particles of her black lipstick painted her lips. Her cheeks seemed to expand as she smiled. "What next?" she asked and batted her eyelashes.

I closed my eyes and let my words fill the air in the room: "I want you to lick my inner thighs." As the final sound left my lips, I removed my underwear and allowed my legs to spread. Air danced against my inner thighs, which pulsed for the feeling of Aurelia's wet tongue against my skin.

"I love that, too," Aurelia admitted. Her voice seemed to meet the air entirely. "Would you do that to me in return?" She slid her tongue across my inner thigh — the left one first. Each wet stroke left me wanting to pant. It was so tender.

"Damn, you're good," I said with a moan. My back arched, and pleasure coursed through me. "Keep fucking me."

All of a sudden, the building began to rattle. Muffled voices erupted outside the walls.

Aurelia pulled away immediately. "Shit, they're home. Get dressed."

Quickly, I changed back into my underwear and tee-shirt while Aurelia slipped into her cowl crop top. "Who's here?" I asked in a whisper, brushing my hair into perfection.

"My family and your husband." After Aurelia said those words, she frowned and explained, "Your funeral must've ended early." Her eyes flitted between me and the door. "Know that my door is always open."

Someone pounded against the door. "Vampiress! Open up!" The voice belonged to my husband. Silence filled the area for a moment.

When the moment ended, there was a light tapping against the door. "The wolf means, we know you're upset about not being able to save Beatriz, but the widower is paranoid and in denial —"

Muffled, Rylan quickly cut off the voice that belonged to the vampire-wolf hybrid. Athan. "I am not paranoid, you sanguisuga! That was not my wife in the casket!" Rylan said.

Aurelia glanced at me and mouthed, "Hide."

So, I raced to the other side of the table and crouched.

"Tu lesbiana promiscua de una hermana did something!" Rylan continued. Though muffled, I could hear the rage ringing in his voice. "Vampiresa!" The pounding continued. "Open up!"

I heard the door open, and a clamor of footsteps filled the room. "Saive, Rylan and Athan," Aurelia said, "how was the funeral?"

"Skip the pleasantries." There was a low growl filling the room. And to my surprise, it sounded so much alike to the one that the Alpha had. I'd heard my husband growl before, but it was out of love — passion swarmed in it. This time, sadly, it bore darkness instead of love. "What did you do to my wife?"

"Your wife is dead!" Aurelia replied. A hiss filled the room. "Maybe you should start asking yourself, what are you going to do with her death on your hands?"

The air tightened around my skin.

"What?" Rylan's growl grew louder. I hadn't even heard his father growl at this volume.

"Purposeless," Aurelia replied with a giggle. "You're purposeless. You got banished from your pack because you loved her. You gave her the burden of carrying a child at eighteen. You even left her in the care of an ex." Silence filled the stiff room. "You've asked all the wrong questions, Rylan Galiano Castilla. And out of what? Carelessness or stupidity?" Aurelia continued. "So, what do you truly want to know?"

"Is Triz dead?" Rylan said with firm words.

"Finally!" Aurelia remarked. "Triz, come out."

I rose to my feet, taking in the dropped expressions of Athan and Rylan.

"Triz?" Rylan's eyes brimmed with tears. "Is that you?"

"In the undead flesh," I answered and combed my fingers through my hair.

"Our son ..." My husband's voice trailed off before cracking as tears shattered against his face.

I nodded and made my way over to him, relishing in the comfort of his arms. I caved in towards his chest. "I saw him," I breathed. "He was beautiful, Rylan. And I'm so sorry that you never got to raise him. But he had your poetic essence. You would've loved him."

"Triz—" Rylan stroked my hair as his words filled the air in a gentle melody "—do you want to try to have another child?"

I knotted my fists in the collar of his dress shirt. "Rylan, I love you," I said and planted a kiss on his lips, "but I need time to heal. You weren't there. You do know what I went through. You thought I was dead."

"You left," Rylan reminded me. "Why?"

I fell silent. Soft words echoed against me: Don't tell him. Don't tell him.

Monster.

Liar.

Cheater.

Whore.

I could feel those words caving in on me like an ominous melody from an organ. Even despite my undead identity, the demons that tossed me onto this destructive path remained embedded in my skin. They daunted me with every fiber of their existence.

In school, we read about Merlin, Arthur, and the kingdom of Camelot. At the time, the character of Sir Lancelot resonated with me. He seemed more shaped out. More than ever, I just wanted freedom. I need air.

I unraveled from my husband, and the walls began to cave in. "Excuse me," I said and pushed my way to the door. "I need to get air. Please, don't follow me." I slid out the door and waited for the summer air to billow against my skin.

Do you want to talk about it? Athan's words hummed against me.

Go to hell, Athan. I stared at the grass, imagining it expanding into a pond where I could feel Rylan's skin again. What we shared was nothing. I rejected you. Can I please have a break?

Sorry.

I felt a warm hand against my shoulder. "Triz," Rylan said with a calming breath. It felt as warm as his skin.

I glanced over my shoulder and replied, "What?"

In his arms, he held a small wooden box. "Do you want to bury what would've been our son?"

I pursed my lips and nodded.

Athan came out from what Rylan explained to be a garage—a shed of sorts that protected car—with a shovel. He dug a hole into the grass and then went inside. His voice echoed against my skin: You're welcome.

"Kylo, descansa en paz, mi hijo," I whispered as we lowered the box into the dirt. Tears could've fallen down my face. "Te amo tanto."

"Rest in peace, Kylo," Rylan said and rubbed my shoulder.

We took turns tossing the soil over the shiny box until it looked as if nothing had been dug. Fake grass covered the spot, but in my heart, I would always know where I buried my son.

Though tears were impossible, I still managed to feel something cold against my skin. "Kylo!" My voice broke. So, I found comfort in Rylan's arms.

"It's okay," he whispered against my hair. "We can heal."

I turned around and stared into his cognac eyes. "We can?" At this point, healing seemed impossible. But the full chuckle in his laugh felt assuring of his statement; maybe we could heal. I just had to stay away from the demons that haunted me.

Rylan inched towards me. "Yes," he said with a soft breath. From there, he gathered me against his frame, drawing me to his lips where a gentle kiss awaited.

For a moment, our lips rested against one another. It was beautiful and calm. Even small moments could make a huge difference.

When we pulled away, Rylan smiled and said, "I'll be inside," heading inside before I could reply. The door closed.

"I'll be here," I whispered and pursed my lips. As the summer breeze broke through my hair, I made my way down the patches of rectangular pavement.

The familiar car remained parked outside the driveway. It was a red hue. I couldn't help staring at it. And it left me in awe.

"She's a beaut, isn't she?" The sound of Athan's voice drawing closer and closer to me made the air stiffen against my skin. "An AMG GT Roadster from Mercedes-Benz. It's a metallic cardinal red hue with red soft tops. The wheels are a twenty-inch AMG ten-spoke Y-design."

"I understood none of what you said," I replied and shrugged, "but, I will say that she's a beaut."

"It means it costed a fortune to get this car," Athan explained.

"You're rich?" I said, shooting him a sideways glance.

"No," Athan answered with a chuckle, "but my parents are rich."

"So," I asked, "they spoil you?" At this moment, we shared a glance.

"All of us," Athan corrected. "All five of us. I'll explain later." He reached for my hand and asked, "Want to listen to a song?"

"As long as it's not Thriller," I replied and swatted his hand away. I didn't need to remind him verbally or through telepathy that we were merely acquaintances. Nothing more.

Side by side, I walked a pace behind Athan as he made his way to his Roadster. He opened the door and placed a key into what he called "ignition." The engine started to hum.

"Turn on Bohemian Rhapsody," Athan said, and the screen embedded into the car turned on.

This song began with five voices singing in harmony:

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

I drowned out the lyrics by glancing at the house. Two stories of brick, wood frame and wood siding gave off a Gothic vibe with its pitched, red roof made from metal. I noticed wired fencing. Plenty of plants provided shade to the house. It made it also secretive in a way. The tops of the windows bore roundness.

What secrets did the family hide? What made them able to know everything about me? I needed to know. I had to know.

I see a little silhouetto of a man.

"Amazing song," I said. "Who created it?"

"A band called Queen," Athan replied. He seemed consumed by the song.

One more time, I stole a glance at the house. Secrets hide. Secrets must die. And as I pursed my lips, the words softly billowed in the air. "Cool."

☾ ☾ ☾

At night, I laid under the covers enveloped in Rylan's arms. At most, the warmth and security of his skin muffled the echoes against my skin. However, the voices in the wind managed to escape, and they ravaged through my straight hair.

The voices—voice, for preciseness—bore striking differences to my usual demons because (a) they didn't match any of my memories, and (b) they didn't threaten me. Instead, I heard screams in my hair — screams filled with what I attributed with fear. When the voices refrained from the wailing, they bellowed against my scalp: Stop. Stop. Stop.

It was so loud that I thought it was real. "Stop," I whispered.

Rylan's snores ceased. "Babe," he breathed against my ear, "what's wrong?"

"I think someone's in trouble," I said and slid out of his protective hold. "Maybe they're outside." Quickly, I threw on some jeans and a bra and raced to the door. "You coming?"

"I'll be right behind you," Rylan replied as he slid into slacks and a baggy shirt.

I navigated my way through the hall of the second story until I found the stairs. There, I glided down the railing, and upon hopping off, turned to face the door next to the room of mirrors. After pursing my lips, I opened the door.

Under the porchlight, I saw one of the last faces I ever wanted to see on this Earth. Blood painted her lips. Purple welts circled her eyes. Her pumpkin-orange hair reminded me of a rat's nest. And she could barely stand; she shook like a leaf. Tears wavered against her cheeks. "Help me." Her words came out like a squeak, which helped me to notice her bruised neck.

"Zoelle?" I said and began to back away. "How are you alive and not burnt up?" Right then, I noticed the bulging roundness to her stomach. "How are you pregnant?"

"I don't know," Zoelle muttered with a shrug. "By some mira—"

"Zo?" Rylan's voice came from the staircase. "You're alive? How? Triz says, you sacrificed yourself."

"She must've spared you my villainous streak," Zoelle explained.

"Villainous?" Rylan said.

"I tried to kill Bay because I wasn't over you," Zoelle told him.

"I thought I killed her because—" I stopped in my tracks. Was now the right time to inform my husband that I caused the fire? What if he rejected me for my magic?

"Relationships deserve the truth," Zoelle said to me. "Don't let your identity become a demon in your life."

"Because I caused the fire at the apartment complex." The words came out of my mouth as slowly as possible. "I have magic, and I can't control it."

Silence filled the room. After a moment, I felt Rylan's hand on top of mine. "We can work through this," he breathed into my hair. "But Zoelle, you've been lying to me, and you tried to kill my wife, so why are you here?"

"I was raped." Tears ran down her face as the story spilled from her lips: "It was the day of the fire. After you started running away, a staff member of the hotel rescued me. He also healed my wounds. After putting me into a stable condition, he left for the Black Lives Matter protest. He told me, don't go anywhere. He even locked the doors so I couldn't leave. That night, maybe 11:50ish, he came back with lust in his eyes.

"'You whore,' he said and yanked my hair. He began kissing me wildly.

"I tried to say no, but he would punch me and shove me further. I began screaming, and he grabbed my throat and dragged me into the bedroom. He tossed me onto his bed and began to rape and sodomize me.

"When he was done, he tossed me out of his house, calling me a piece of shit. I immediately found the police, and by God's mercy, the man was incarcerated. I stayed with a female officer so I could testify at court. Luckily, we got him to plead guilty when I got declared pregnant because he didn't use a condom. So, the court put him in jail for life.

"Sadly, the pregnancy was going faster than the usual nine months. To protect our kind, I escaped into the woods, loathing myself. I felt like a piece of shit. And I didn't want to have the baby, but it was too late for an abortion. So, Bay and Ry, will you raise my child as if it were yours?"

"Yes," Rylan and I said at the same time.

At this moment, the lights went on. "What's going on?" called out a female voice. It had the same twang as Aurelia, but the sound was lower. I looked up at the second story and saw a woman with a face that had the marks of twenty-some-year-old. And raven tendrils framed them. Her knit shawl danced in the air created by the fan, matching her pursed lips in the same hue — wine red.

Behind her, a slender man with a square jaw stood. His eyes seemed distant as he focused on a small painting placed halfway between the first and second floors. But he had a firm grip on the woman's shoulder.

Aurelia and Athan rushed to the ledge. While Aurelia gazed down at me, Athan glanced at the couple and said, "Mom, Dad, what's going on?" He then glanced in my direction. "Mom, Dad, this is Beatriz—" he gestured towards me, then at my husband who stared Zoelle down from head to toe "—and you remember Rylan, right?"

"How could I forget?" the mother remarked. "He threw one of my china cups against the wall."

The father, however, made no comment. At the moment, he remained consumed by the square frame of art.

"Beatriz," Athan said, "this is my mother, Minerva, and my father, Lanz."

"Nice to meet you," I said to Minerva.

"You as well," Minerva replied. "And welcome to the family." A smile brimmed her cheeks.

I glanced at the ground and then back at Minerva. "Thank you."

At the moment, she came down the staircase with long strides of her extensive limbs. She wrapped her hands in her shawl, which swaying with each pace. After the last step, she strutted over to the door and ushered Zoelle inside.

Rylan's eyes followed Zoelle into the living room tucked under the second floor.

"Who are you?" Minerva asked the shell of the woman who tried to murder me.

"Zoelle Haven," Zoelle replied. As she spoke, she seemed to trace the ground with a single glance. "I'm from the Moon Haven." Within seconds, she spilled the story of her tragic experience with life to Minerva, using the same words she had utilized with us.

Minerva nodded along with each point made. Meanwhile, she maintained a rod-straight posture. She folded her arms atop her ample bust. However, when Zoelle finished, her demeanor softened. "Oh, my good Lord," Minerva said and glanced in our direction. "Thank God that she found us instead of wandering out in the streets until she withered into oblivion."

"I feel like I've already done that," Zoelle noted with a frown. "I've already withered into oblivion. I'm useless. I'm a gullible bitch. I should've known men only thought of me as worthless and meant to shatter or punch — to rip apart. I'm done with men. They only bring trouble."

Rylan stepped forward. "Zo, I'm sorry I hurt you. But you can't ignore the heart. It wouldn't have been fair to you because if we ended up together I would've gone through the motions."

I laced my fingers through Rylan's hand. Warmth seeped against my skin. "Someday," I assured Zoelle, "you'll find someone, I promise."

"Why are you acting kindly towards me?" Zoelle asked me. "I was nothing but a bitch to you."

"Everyone deserves a second chance," I explained, and it all sank in. Everyone deserved a second chance. Maybe even Llwyd and Keanna. "Rylan, I have to say something to you."

"What is it?" As the question left his lips, Rylan glanced at me softly.

"When I fled the ultrasound," I replied, "I found a letter written from Keanna in the woods."

"What did it say?" Rylan asked.

I couldn't tell how Rylan felt about this information. On one hand, there were crinkles next to his eyes. It seemed as if he might smile. On the other hand, his free hand started fidgeting. His fingers rapidly played an invisible piano. And to further complicate the reaction, his toes drummed against the floor and his cheeks flushed.

All of a sudden, the door flew open, and a piece of paper landed in my free hand. The familiar words stared back at me, so I harrumphed. When all eyes focused on me, I began to read the letter.

As the final words left my mouth, my husband seemed to light up with a smile that stretched widely across his cheeks. "We have to go!" This came out in a shout.

I glanced up at Aurelia and Athan, asking, "Am I able to eat or drink anything?"

"Umm—" Aurelia glanced at Athan, who shrugged "—I think you'll have to find out."

"So," Zoelle interjected and trailed off for a moment as if in uncertainty, "am I allowed to stay so this baby can get used to your voices and imprint on you as their parent?"

"You can have Parris's room," Athan replied. "I think he's moving out on his own."

"Good for him," I muttered.

"When I'm not pregnant," Zoelle said to Athan. "I can't do stairs."

"Okay," Athan replied. "Let me grab you some blankets."

As Athan disappeared, I seized Rylan's wrist and brought him into the room of mirrors. Dim lights painted our skin. For one moment, I focused on his eyes—those bronze eyes that drove me wild. Wild. Wild. The next instant, I gazed at the glimpse of skin that made up his magnificent chest.

From the side of my eyes, I caught our reflections in the mirrors. We were alone in the dim-lit room.

"What's on your mind?" Rylan asked with a grin — a grin that captivated me by its hue and soft shape even as they curled towards his cheekbones. It was one of my favorite things about him.

The best part: I could let it all with all of the secrets off my chest. Everything seemed in place once more. And the world felt so bright. It felt as if fireworks could go off in the night and fill the sky with colors.

All of a sudden, I heard crackling outside. "What's going on?" I said, avoiding the initial question. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

"Let's go look," Rylan said, taking my hand. He guided me out the door to the lawn.

Even the neighbors, sluggish in their robes had come to their porches to see all the commotion. In the sky, beautiful, vivacious colors bursted as bright as the stars if not brighter. Each painted the night in a unique pattern. Each harmonized to its uniqueness, serenading the firmament with pinks and reds.

"Fourth of July is tomorrow," a neighbor hollered to someone on the other side of the street. "Must be some hipsters trying to get us pepped."

"Joke's on them," the person on the other side of the street replied. "Those dumbasses know we're under curfew and quarantine."

"Quarantine sucks," the neighbor replied.

As the sound died down, Rylan glanced at me. "Did you cause that to happen?"

I nodded my head, and replied, "I think so." Silence filled the night as I paused and pursed my lips. "I love you so much, Rylan." Interlocking two fingers at the nape of his neck, my forehead met his. "I want you." I drew my other hand from my side and rested my palm on his cheek.

In Rylan's retinas, there was a shine that reflected my unsteady gaze (I flitted between the fence and his face). "And I want you." One arm curled around my waist, pressing me into his lean frame.

Afterward, everything felt like a dance as tangoed into the foyer. His lips hummed against mine with a moan. And when he pinned me against a wall, ecstasy sizzled against my skin. Everything felt deeper. His tongue darted into my mouth, searching for nothing but the tantalization of my senses.

Then, Rylan's other arm grabbed my butt (which sent a pleasure up my spine) and lifted me from the ground. "Mi alma," he breathed against my collarbone.

"Mi sol." I smiled against his lips while my legs encompassed his hips. In between my thighs, my clit pulsed. I needed him. Whether or not the Moon Goddess deemed this love taboo, I didn't care. I would sacrifice myself to Rylan in our ritual of adoration and take his sins in return.

I could feel his pulse against my chest. There, the racing thumps searched for mine. If I even had one, I wouldn't know. Everything meshed together as we stumbled into the dim-lit room of mirrors.

We exposed our vulnerabilities to one another. Bare skin and an aria our emotions wafted through the room and intertwined at the table.

And as Rylan's tongue slipped into my mouth, the taste of spice seeped to my throat. Everything was beautiful. He straddled me between his hips, and his breath, gentle and warm, pooled sporadically upon my skin as he spoke: "Are you sure you want this?"

"I need this." Once more, I pursed my lips. "I want to bear a child. I want to try again." As those words left my mouth, I leaned back against the table and could feel the rapid pulse in my clit.

Rylan painted butterflies against my sides, my thighs, and even my clit before he was inside me. Each thrust felt perfect. His chest heaved against mine. His sweat mingled with my skin.

Our lips met with each stride of ecstasy. Meanwhile, we explored one another's skin. Every so often, he would stroke my thigh, and I would moan. And if I closed my eyes, I could see Kylo's smile.