The Blood we Crave Duet Epilogue

*Unedited*

Lyra 

“Lyra, you’ve been together for fucking forever years. I’m surprised he waited this long. I was fully expecting to fly back to Ponderosa Springs for a wedding a week after we left.” 

My bare feet pace the floor, phone wedged between my shoulder and ear as I hold the red leather box in my hands. The black diamond twinkles in the dim lighting, making my stomach churn with guilt. 

I know for a fact this was unreasonably expensive, and I was absolutely not supposed to have found it. What if he’d got it and changed his mind? What if he wasn’t even going to ask me?

“I just—” My teeth chew at the inside of my cheek nervously, “I never thought he’d want to get married. I always thought we would just be together. I never needed a title to be a part of his life.”

Did I do something to make him think this is what I needed to be with him? Did I make him feel like he wasn’t enough?

My heart beats a little faster, thinking of how much he’s been working lately. He’s been travelling so much lately, flying across the states, and trying to expand Pierson Real Estate to more than just the west coast.

I’m so proud of him for how hard he’s been working since he took over, but we’ve barely seen one another recently. I mean, what if he’s decided I’m not what he wants? What if he needs someone who looks…more fitting at his side while running an empire?

I spend the majority of my days covered in dirt, in some form of lab coat or sweatpants. That’s how the last three years have gone by while I finish my Ph. D. program, and I’m weeks away from graduating. But then what? I enter the field and have even less time with him?

“Stop freaking out.” Sage shouts from her side of the line, snapping me out of my rabbit hole, “I can feel you panicking through the phone. You may not need the title, but maybe he wants you to have it. You’re freaking for nothing. Now tell me how did he proposed? I told Rook he wouldn’t be able to wait for your Greece trip.”

Greece.

He wouldn’t have booked a week-long trip after my graduation if he’d changed his mind. That isn’t like him. Thatcher is the most candid person on the planet. I know this. Sometimes a little too honest, he would’ve told me if he’d grown tired of our relationship.

Wouldn’t he?

A blush heats my cheeks, and I glance around my empty kitchen, making sure I’m still alone. It’s late, three in the morning late and I know he’s fast asleep. We get a few hours together when I creep into the bed. I tried for a hot second to adapt to his morning schedule, but my body refuses to wake up that early.

Just another thing that was very different about us. Another thing that might become a problem between us one day. The panic returns, my hands starting to sweat.

“Well, the thing is, he hasn’t,” I laugh anxiously into the phone, rubbing my thumb across the box in my hand, “I may have been looking for a sweater of his the other day and found it.”

“Lyra!” she shrieks in my ear, “You were snooping through your own boyfriend’s things! I thought stalking ends when you start dating the target.” 

“Old habits die hard?” I offer Sage as a response.

I really was looking for a sweater. I just happened to take my time while doing it. It had been two days since I found the box. He’d been gone for a week at that point, and I missed him.

I craved closeness, so I did what I always do when I need to be near him. Surround myself with his things.

“You would ruin your own fucking proposal. Alistair is going to die when I tell him.” Briar says.

“You two are not helping,” I let out a heavy breath, “What if he—”

My mouth shuts immediately.

Because I feel it. I feel him.

My heart stutters, as if silently whispering, “Uh Oh.”

“I have to go.” My voice comes out rushed, and I know they barely understand. All I hear is various shouts before I end the call, leaving me in silence.

I’m scared to turn around knowing what I’ll find behind me, but I do it anyway.

Thatcher’s back is leaning on the wall across from me, hands tucked in his sweatpants pocket, torso exposed, and a hint of a smirk teasing his lips. If I wasn’t holding the ring I wasn’t supposed to know about in my hands, I would take a moment longer to admire him.

“I can explain. It’s not—”

“Do you like it?” He interrupts, tilting his head a bit as he watches me.

I slide my phone onto the counter, holding the box in both hands as I glance down at it before looking up at him.

“I didn’t mean to find at, and if you’ve changed your mind, then that’s totally okay. We don’t have to get married. Wait, not that it’s an engagement ring,” I stutter over my words, “It’s probably a graduation present. This isn’t me telling you we should get married or anything, I don’t—”

His laughter cuts me short. Loud and out of nowhere. The sound makes butterflies flutter in my stomach every single time. Thatcher should have spent his entire life making that sound.

I watch as he shakes his head, pushing from the wall and making his way towards me. When he’s standing in front of me, I take a deep inhale of his smell, comforted by the familiar scent.

“May I?” I point down at the box in my hands, lifting his eyebrow, still smiling at me.

My teeth look down on my bottom lip as I nod, handing it to him.

He looks down at it as I transfer it, his thumb rubbing the leather box. My heart thuds in my chest, worried about what he’s about to say next.

“This ring was crafted from the same jeweler my grandfather used. I had them use May’s wedding ring, I just swapped the stone. A regular diamond didn’t feel like enough for you.”

Tears sting my eyes, streaming down my cheeks as I watch him guide himself to the floor. Dropping to one knee in front of me, with the ring presented towards me.

“Black diamonds symbolize inner strength. It’ll be a reminder that you’re mine.” He says softly, “If you would have waited a few more weeks, this would’ve been happening on a beach in Santorini, but that wouldn’t be you, would it?”

I laugh through a sob, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt. It’s hard not to doubt yourself in a relationship sometimes, especially when your partner is someone like Thatcher.

He’s charismatic. Always in charge. Handles everything so fluently that it’s rare to see him struggle. There is no flaw in him, and it’s hard to imagine measuring up to that.

But I was silly to doubt us.

Not when he’s always been there. Even when he’s away, he has never once tried to change me, only encourage me to be better. Staying up late to study with me, face timing me on the other side of the map to ask how my tests went. Making sure I always have enough tea in the cabinet on late nights.

There is no one else in the world better suited for me than him and vise verse. We are two pieces of the same heart. Mine is just a little more…energetic.

“Scarlett Lyra Abbott. My Darling Phantom. I want you to go through my things every day for the rest of our lives. I’m tired of calling you my girlfriend when you’ve always been so much more than that. So, will you let me call you, my wife?”

I hadn’t wanted this. But he knew that I needed it.

That I needed the traditional wedding proposal and the vows. It was important to me, not because of the ring or the dress. It was about knowing he’d put his pride on the line. That he had the courage to ask, that I was worth asking.

I wanted our crazy schedules forever. To follow him wherever work took him. Dirty the walkway entry until we were old. Spend hours lying in bed talking about everything and nothing. Walk through town hand in hand while people starred.

My bones wanted to turn grey with his. To reach an age where I would look back and remember how young he looked as he spun me around our home. This was a promise for forever in this lifetime. And I couldn’t wait to see all the promises we make in the lifetime after.

Now there was only one thing left to do.

“Yes.”

Thatcher

The night is slowly tipping into the morning hours.

I can hear birds chirping outside.

Blinking a few times, as I wake from a dreamless sleep. My subconscious learned a few years ago that it could stop manifesting dreams and reliving nightmares. Reality already carried everything I needed, and my past had no place in my future with her.

I turn my head, looking at the space in beside me, finding Lyra curled towards me in an uncomfortable-looking ball. Hair messily falling around the pillow, eyes closed and lost in sleep.

Sometimes, I think I’ll fall asleep and wake up to all of this being a dream. Her being in my room, in my life. There is no fear in me, expect for being without her. I often find myself afraid to blink, because every time I do, months pass.

But in these gentle moments, before she wakes up, everything seems to move a little slower. I can savor every ounce of her presences without the worry of it being over too soon.

I’ve been awake two seconds, and I’m compelled to touch her.

Turning to my side, propping my head up with my arm, I use my free hand to trace the lines of her face. Tangling my index finger in a few of her curls before, I follow the slope of her nose, outline the cupid’s bow of her lips, before following the curve of her jaw.

When I guide my hand down her smooth arm, I continue until I’m drawing circles on her hipbone. I slide my palm beneath her shirt, rubbing across her soft stomach.

“How unfair that you were created for me,” I say to the empty air, “Someone who didn’t have the courage to love you sooner. You should have been worshipped your entire life, Scarlett Lyra Abbott. Never allowed a moment of doubt.”

Her nose twitches in response, and I don’t fight back my smile. That might be the biggest change in me since allowing her into my life. I’ve stopped denying myself the happiness of being with her.

When we are out in public, I don’t pull away. I lean in. If she laughs, I don’t hide the smile in response to it. I no longer concern myself with how others persevere me. I don’t care if being seen with Lyra gives me more humanity, if it makes me less threatening to those who live in town.

And in our home? We laugh. Some nights when she’s still awake studying or collecting bugs, we dance. She watches me cook and rambles about something trivial.

We enjoy life together.

There is already so much darkness in me, constantly existing, prowling, and it will never go away. I won’t ruin what little light I have left.

As my hand traces the top of her panties, hunger pools in my gut. My groin tightens with desire, and there is suddenly too much space between us.

I roll my body until I’m resting on my knees, moving myself until I’m between her thighs. My hands pull her knees apart, her body turning onto its back as I expose one of my favorite parts of her.

A thin pair purple underwear conceals her from me, and I can feel my heartbeat in my stomach.

So close, yet so far away.

Waves of dark curls fall around her face as she falls onto the pillow. Sleep still holding her beneath the surface of consciousness.

I smirk, dragging my teeth across my bottom lip as my fingers trail the lines of pale thighs. Walking them all the way to the seam in her underwear. My thumb presses against the material, rubbing up and down her clothed slit.

Even asleep, she’s the most alluring human. The feel of her skin, how her body naturally presses into my touch, The way her chest rises beneath her thin tee shirt. Unable to help myself, I lean my body over hers, pressing my mouth to her breast.

My teeth bite into her sensitive nipple, knowing she’s naked beneath the shirt. I flick my tongue, listening to the soft sigh of pleasure she releases. Her body is lax, too sated to be awake yet.

I love that even when she’s asleep, her body craves me. Wakes up at the feel of my mouth and demand more. Feeling the wetness pool against her panties, I press two fingers to the seam of them.

Pushing them past her covered lips, fingering her ever so slightly through the cotton material. My cock twitches, pre-cum leaking from the head, causing a wet spot to appear in the front of my boxers.

I pull myself back to my knees, peering down at the soft little thing beneath me. Gentle, rounded edges are always there to combat my sharp curved ones. She’s my opposite, and my mirror. Every part of her compliments or completes me.

“Pretty, little, pet.” I murmurer as I shove her panties to one side, exposing her glistening pussy to me. Holding back a groan as I jerk my boxers down enough to pull out my cock.

Her eyebrows furrow together, body pushing towards me as she starts to fade into consciousness. Wrapping my hand around the base of my cock, I guide the tip to her slit. Dropping my head, as I spit down onto her cunt.

Using the head of my dick, I rub my saliva up and down her folds before pressing myself into that tight little hole that is molded into the shape of me. Her sweet warm heat welcomes me instantly as I thrust inside not stopping until I’ve filled her completely.

A gasp slips from her lips just as I groan. Dropping my upper body, so I press my mouth to hers. So, she can feel the vibrations of every single grunt and moan that she causes with her tight walls.

“Thatch…” she mutters, as she blinks herself awake.

“Morning creature of the night.” I drag lips to her jaw, nipping at the skin there. Flicking my tongue down her neck before returning to her lips. “I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to be inside your pussy.”

She moans as I tangle our mouths together. Her mind starting to catch up with her body, as she wraps her arms around my neck, spreading her legs wider to give me better access to her cunt.

I pull my hips back, snapping them forward. Sheathing myself inside of her, over and over again. Her juices coat my shaft, and every time I slam forward, I can hear just how badly she wants me.

“Fuck, fuck,” Lyra gasps, as she dips her nails into my naked shoulders. Pulling her back off the bed, pressing her forehead to mine as she lifts her hips in time with my thrusts.

“Look at how perfectly I fit in you. Your cunt sucks me in and won’t let me back out.” The morning gravel in my throat makes my voice crack. “First thing in the morning and look at your needy pussy crying for me.”

The warmth and wetness of her is addicting. Wrapped around my cock like a vice, squeezing and tightening with every single plunge.

Years we’ve been together and I’m still not tired of this. Of having her in my bed, in my space, infecting my life every day. I almost resent time for moving this fast. For spending by so quickly and not giving me enough time to savor every moment with her.

Time is the greatest thief, and I want to rob the hourglass of more moments with her.

Forever isn’t enough.

I hate being around people. Having them close to me.

But it’s never felt like that with Lyra. Maybe cause she isn’t “people” she’s…Lyra.

The nightmare. The dream. My soul. My obsessive, darling phantom.

“More, angel. More, please.” She begs, wrapping one hand around the back of my next, pressing herself into me so that she’s nose to nose with me. Her warm breath spans across my face and I moan at the sensation.

My hips piston in and out of her. The sounds of our bodies slamming into one another echoing into the room. I lock my hands on her waist, forcing her body to meet every punishing thrust.

I could do this with her every second of the day. Constantly melded with her body, so obsessed with being this close to her that it drives me insane that I can’t be inside of her all the time.

There is something about morning sex, though.

The sleep still weighing down our bones, our movements careless and hungry. The smell of her shampoo still stuck to the sheets, as the sweat builds onto our skin. Sun pours in from the window, casting lines of orange tinted light across her face.

I was wrapped, curled, and secured in Lyra’s web, and I never wanted to leave it.

“You want more, baby?” I grunt, “More of what, huh? You want me to fill you up, pet?”

My hands strangle her waist, knowing she’s close. Lyra is always more sensitive in the mornings, extra responsive to every touch. Her nose bumps mine as she nods enthusiastically.

Her legs wrap around my waist, forcing me deeper inside of her as I continue to impale her on my cock. I feel the tingle in my balls, and I know I’m close.

“You have to cum for me first, Darling Phantom.” I grunt. “If you want me to pump that pathetic pussy full of my seed, then you need to milk it out of me. Cum for me, baby.”

She tosses her head back in pleasure, letting me use her body as I push in and out of her tight hole. Spreading her open, breaking her apart, until all that’s left are the pieces I must collect.

“Thatcher, I’m gonna—” she whines, eyes shut tight as her orgasm takes over.

I feel the way she tightens around me, sucking me inside of her and refusing to let up. God, I couldn’t resist that feeling if there was a gun to my head.

My thrusts are jerky as I chase the feeling of my climax, my lips finding hers as I shove myself inside of her one last time. I can feel my chest vibrate with a moan as I come.

Filling her up with every drop, slowly continuing to pump my hips as we come crashing down from our high. Lyra lets go of my neck, falling back onto the bed, and I grin as I look down.

Watching my come leak out of her as I pull out. Mesmerized by the sight, I slip two fingers inside of her, pushing it back in. Rubbing the tip of my finger against that spot she likes deep inside.

“Gods,” she moans, a little smile on her face as she arches off the bed, “It’s a good thing they invented birth control. You enjoy doing this far too much.”

I chuckle, shaking my head as I remove my hand from between her thighs. Bringing my fingers that are coated in both of us to her lips. I look down at her as she opens, sucking them into her mouth and cleaning them off.

“I like coating the inside of you with me.” I smirk, “Not kids.”

Her laugh is light, bubbling out from her stomach. It shakes her shoulders, and a few pieces of hair fall in front of her face. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

Children was a topic we approached early. Tentatively, because I wasn’t sure how she felt about a future without kids. I’m not sure what it says about me, but if it meant keeping her, I would have given her an entire school of them even though I knew I’d never wanted them. Still didn’t.

But if it would have made Lyra happy, I would have done it without question.

Thankfully, she’s the one who brought it up and had clearly stated, having children was not something she wanted. Now or anytime in the future. I think the both of us knew what we were, and we didn’t want to bring an innocent life into the world we’d created.

We were happy, just the two of us, in all the darkness we spun together, and the light we sometimes let in.

I feel her hand run across my forehead before raking through my hair. I lean into her open palm, placing a kiss on her wrist. This motion brings attention to the ring on her finger, new but perfectly made for her.

“Are you sure you want to marry me?” She asks, staring at the engagement ring in wonder. “Like really sure? It’s a lifelong commitment. I almost burnt down the house cooking our anniversary meal. And I never pick up my laundry from the bathroom. There is also the time I accidentally got dirt on your brand new—”

“Yes.” I say easily, curling my hand around her wrist, “My lifelong commitment to you started years ago, Lyra. I’m tired of calling you my girlfriend when you’ve always been much more to me.”

Taking over my family’s company hasn’t been easy. It’s long hours and I travel more than I expected working on expanding it, but Lyra has stayed steady. Even through graduate school, she’s unwavering.

She never expected or wanted me to change once we found ourselves together. I still partake in my biannual ritual, and she remains unfazed. Lyra accepted me far before I even accepted myself.

“We’re getting married.” She whispers, chewing the inside of her cheek, fighting off a smile, “You’re marring the girl who stalked you.”

I drop my lips to her forehead, pressing a kiss to her sweaty skin.

“You’re marrying the guy who wanted to kill you,” I smirk. “I think that makes us even, darling phantom.”

In this life, and in all the ones that follow, she is mine.

Flaws, quirks, dirty shoes, and all.

She is wholly, undeniably mine.

They say love is kind, that it is good. Love is warm, and it’s safe.

But I don’t think that’s always true.

I think love can be dark. It can be twisted and sharp. You can prick your finger on its edges and bleed all the reasons you’d die for it. It can hurt you if you’re not careful, because it’s the kind of fragile that has consequences if you break it. It’s found most often in life, but sometimes, it can be found in death.

Love is Lyra.

It’ll only ever be little miss death.