Epilogue (Valerie and Klaus)

Epilogue (Valerie and Klaus)
Five years later

Valerie's POV

"Take the girl to the hospital first of all. Be gentle with her, and do everything to ensure she's comfortable," I seethed as I spoke to Jamie on the phone. "As for the man that did this, he will never see the light of day again."

I rolled both fingers on my temples the moment I ended the call. They'd been a case of sexual assault, and the girl was brave enough to report the incident.

She was not allowed to have a phone, so she had begged a stranger and sent an emergency email to the packhouse. Jamie went to get her out, and he just told me that he walked in on an assault on her again. By her guardian. Her Uncle that was supposed to protect her.

Invisible tendrils crawled around my skin as I thought about all she'd been through. I knew first hand how it feels to be sexually assaulted, so I hated to think of anyone going through that.

My past with Ronald motivated me to open up a private foundation, where I helped girls like this one. I didn't just get justice for them, I also ensured that they were properly cared for—physically and psychologically. And that their life after that would be okay. I didn't care if they were from this pack or not.

I felt something akin to satisfaction or triumph after every successful rescue, justice or news of healing. It was a big win whenever one of the girls call back to talk about their progress.

The foundation made me fill fulfilled in a way I didn't anticipate. Like it was what I was truly meant to do.

In all of these, Klaus had been my biggest support all through the years. I remembered that first time I brought up the idea, wondering if it was ridiculous, as they already tackled cases like that. But I wanted more than justice for the victims. I wanted them to heal and find themselves. To know that they were more than just what they'd been through. He'd supported me from the very first moment, and he always let me know how proud he was of me.

"Mama, mama, come see," I looked up and smiled as my two year old daughter—Vanessa opened the door and barged in, running faster than her legs could carry her. I got up quickly and caught her the moment before she planted her face on the ground.

"Hey, no running," I crouched to her level, but I knew that was a waste of time. Vanessa was such a free spirit and bubbly kid. Running was just part of her existence as a person. "Kamkam and Cami fight! Aunt Cawi tie them!"

Dear Goddess. Those two!

They'd been fighting each other since they got out of the womb. Now they were both seven years old, and nothing had changed. Carrie had gotten so fed up last time, she threatened to tie them up the next time they fought again. I had no idea she meant it.

Until I went down to the living room to see for myself.

She actually wrapped a plastic tape around them until they couldn't move a limb. Cami was sobbing, while Kameron kept staring at her with irritation, like he'd rather be anywhere but with her. Same boy lost sleep for days when Cami was wounded. One time, he was so irritated with everything and everyone when she went to stay with her grandparents for spring break, but he had refused to admit that he missed her.

"Carrie?" My gaze met hers as I struggled to rein in my laughter.

"Look, I'm pregnant and I don't have the time for their shenanigans," she hissed. "Maybe if I tie them up long enough, they'll learn to love each other." Carrie was five months pregnant for their second child, and it kinda affected her mood.

"It's all Cami's fault." Kameron was quick to point fingers, the scowl on his face making me think about his father. They were similar in so many ways. Physically and in their behaviour too. "Maybe if she had learnt to stay in her space and respect people's privacy, we won't be here!"

"Liar!" Cami shrieked at the top of her voice. "You have something of mine in your room, and you will not let me in."

"See why I tied them up?" Carrie clicked her tongue. "I told them I'll untie them if they can stay without screaming at each other for ten minutes. It's not even up to four."

"Aunty Valerie, please," Cami pleaded, her voice tiny and angelic. Almost like she wasn't the tigress ready to tear Kam's head apart anytime she had the chance. My son on the other hand—prideful as he was—refused to beg.

"You know what? I think I'll leave you guys here." I smirked when I noticed that slight panic in Kam's eyes, even when he tried to hide it. "I was actually busy with something important."

Just as I turned to leave, the front door opened, and a smile inevitably lit up my face when my mate stepped in.

We've been together for more than eight years now, but the sight of him never failed to make my blood pump and my heart race like a teenager with a crush.

He'd gone for some meeting with some pack elders, and I'd decided to stay back as I wasn't too interested. I knew he had it handled.

"Hello, Love."

My smile widened as I walked over to him. I wrapped my hands around his neck as I leaned in to kiss him, and he readily welcomed me, hands tightly around my waist.

When we pulled apart, his gaze beelined to the wrapped up children, and he turned to me in question.

"Ask Carrie."

"They deserve it," Carrie said unapologetically.

"I'm sure." He murmured, kissing the side of my head. "Kameron," his voice toughened a bit, "Cami is like your sister, you..."

"Ewww..." They both screamed out in unison, before Kameron continued. "No, never. I have only one sister and it's not Cami."

Klaus frowned. He didn't really mind them arguing and fighting, but he didn't like when Kam said hurtful things to her. "Me and you are going to have a chat later, son."

He straightened, regret now dancing in his eyes. "Yes, dad."

An hour later, I was in our bedroom with Klaus. As usual, I've told him everything about the girl we rescued. And he told me he was proud of how I handled the situation.

"You know, those girls are so happy to have you," he said as he parted my hair, gently brushing out the tangles and helping me curl them. I was watching him through the mirror, smiling at how focused and meticulous he looked as he carried out the task.

I had my hair stylist, and I could easily call her to come over if I wanted curls. But Klaus' hands on my hair? Eternal bliss. And he knew it. So he actually learnt how to take care of my curls.

"I'm just doing what I was hoping someone would do for me then," I paused, before lifting my face up to stare at him. "Until you came along."

A small smirk curled his lips. "And you clung onto me because you've never seen someone so charming."

I chuckled. "You're one to talk. You literally caused chaos in the hall just to get my attention."

"Like you were not dying to dance with me?" He teased, making me giggle.

"And after the dance, you lost your senses. I knew right then and there that you were so whipped for me."

His hands stopped moving on my hair. "Is that so?"

I giggled. "Yes."

He leaned down to my ear level, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous octave that always made my skin tingle with excitement. "Do you want me to show you exactly how whipped I am?"

Before I could answer with anything clever, his fingers tightened in my half-done curls—not painful, just possessive—and he tugged my head back gently so I met his gaze as he stared down at me.

Those stormy eyes were already dark with hunger. "Stand up, Love."

The command was soft, but it shot straight between my thighs. I rose on shaky legs, my brain already conjuring different images and scenarios in my head.

Klaus didn't let go of my hair. With his other hand he swept everything off the vanity in one smooth motion—brushes, bottles, the little tray of jewelry—none of it mattered. The clatter barely registered.

He spun me, pressed my hips against the cool marble edge, and folded me forward until my cheek rested on the polished surface and my back arched perfectly for him.

My robe had ridden up and cool air kissed the backs of my thighs.

Both of his large hands slid down my spine, slowly, until he gripped the hem of the robe and flipped it up to my waist. I felt the growl rumble in his chest more than I heard it.

"Look how beautifully you're dripping, Luna," he murmured, voice rough as sin, his palms spreading me open for his gaze, "even before I get to touch you."

One thick finger traced my slit, gathering the slick evidence, and I whimpered, pushing back shamelessly. "Listen carefully, mate," he said, leaning over me, his chest to my back, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I'm going to fuck you right here until the only name you remember is mine… and then I'm going to keep going until you're sobbing into this marble, begging me to let you go."

"You know I'd never beg you to let me go." That was kinda true. We had almost equal appetite for each other, so I was almost always down whenever he was.

He pulled back just enough for me to feel the blunt, scorching head of him nudging my entrance—no barriers, never any barriers between us. "Hold on tight, Valerie."

And with one long, merciless thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and proved exactly how whipped he still was.