The Avalon Institute For Supernatural Beings (AISB)

Epilogue: Eight Years Later

“How long will you keep me?" I asked.

You shrugged. "Forever, of course.” 

― Lucy Christopher, Stolen: A Letter to My Captor

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It was the third time since three early this morning, that I was puking my guts out. Probably along with my intestines and God knows what other organ; sorry, biology was never my best subject.

When I felt warm familiar hands against my scalp, pulling my hair back and brushing the stray strands that were stuck to my damp forehead, I groaned.

"Don't watch...go out.." I gasped out.

My mate shushed me gently and and patted my tushy. Which meant 'I'm not going anywhere, just keep throwing your internal organs out' in my mate's language.

Dammit.

When I was all puked-out I washed my mouth clean and leaned back against my mate, his warmth was a comfort to me even in my gross state. I was breathing a little hard and was more than a little confused.

Why was I vomiting like a crazy college chick with a hangover?

Nathan turned me around and the sight of him stole my breath away. Even though I knew every pore on his face like the back of my hand.

Hard chiseled lines made his jaw that were clenched tightly and his hair remained a ruffled black mess, from the number of times he'd run his hands through them. His warm breath caressed my damp cheek as his glowing green eyes flashed.

Unbelievably, my mate (now husband) had grown taller, while I'd remained...well the same. I had to really look up now to meet his eyes. I often grumbled about my height (of rather the lack of) but Nathan would lean down and press his lips to mine and say "Your height is perfect," then he would grin and I would know he's going to say something dirty, and as if on cue he would add "Besides, it makes things interesting in bed."

I remember blushing so red in response to that statement, that Nathan had laughed hard enough to make me want to smack him with an apple.

Yeah. I was still the Apple Throwing Ninja. In my defence, he deserved it. Besides, most of the time he ducks anyway, so if anything my anger issues are well, moot.

"That's the third time today and the fifth time this week." Nathan murmured, concern a stark presence in his eyes.

I sighed. "I probably caught a bug."

He shook his head.

"You never fall ill, baby. The only time you puke is when you've gone on an overload. Besides you have my Mark on you, it'll heal you through the bond if you're sick."

He ran his thumb over my lower lip and his worry beat at me like strong wind against sails.

I rubbed my hands over his upper arms that were thick (thicker) and tensed, like he was ready for an attack.

"I'm fine." I said. Because I was. The nausea has passed and I felt fine.

He rubbed his hands down my back and I could feel his tiger pushing at him for control.

I raised on tiptoe (for the number of times I'd done this, I might as well be a ballet dancer) and smacked a kiss on his lips.

"I'm hungry." I said, grinning.