The Secrets of Roan Island

Epilogue Shemaiah

T he sound of Noah claiming his mate is difficult to drown out. At least for a Mavarri. They’ve been at it for days, and I’m officially done. I’m tempted to leave the confines of the island to get away from them, but where would I go? Besides, as hungry as I am, it wouldn’t be wise to surround myself with humans on the mainland, not until after the next new moon. If I can wait that long.

Ruby screams Noah’s name yet again, and I down the last of my wine. They’ll carry on the Roan lineage in a matter of days at the rate they’re going. And drive us all mad in the process.

I slam my glass onto the table and stalk across my favorite parlor in the house to put on a disc, hoping to drown out their noise. I click the lever to turn the music up as loud as it’ll go, but the warbling sound bursting from the metal amplifier does nothing to drown them out.

I’m happy for them. Truly.

Even if I’m fucking miserable. An emotion I’d never let my family see.

I pour myself a third glass and wish it was something stronger. Something thicker. Something with a breath and a pulse. I think of the women upstairs and bite my cheek to taste my own blood, trying to ease my thirst. We still have a little over a week before the next new moon party, but with so much fresh blood in the house, my thirst has been worse than normal.

The women have all been remarkably strong the last few days, despite their varied stages of terminal illness. Their fortitude in the face of the bloodshed and violence in the temple was… noteworthy. Losing Celeste was a blow, but she died quickly. Better than the slow agony she would have faced from the virulent plague consuming her body.

Her death mattered. I owe her, and each of them, a great debt for helping kill our father.

I catch the scent of citrus and lost hope before there’s a knock at the door warning me I’m no longer alone. I know who it is immediately. For a moment, I consider not responding—I’m not in the mood for company—except curiosity compels me. I can’t imagine why the lady would be seeking me out.

“Come in,” I call.

She enters with her chin held high and her gaze steady. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a bun, tendrils loose and framing her face. She’s small, petite and thin, and I wonder if that’s just her or the disease stealing from her. Her dress is her own, worn thin and patched in multiple places. Interesting. I wonder why she chose it instead of the nicer ones Mrs. Darning always puts out for the women.

“Do you need something?” My voice is even, indifferent. The scent of the disease is strong, working to overtake what makes her unique. I wonder how long she has to live.

She glances at the music apparatus and moves across the room. I track her, watching the gentle sway of her skirt, tracing the lines to her hips, the slim waist, the way the fabric covers her torso. She turns down the music. Thankfully, Noah and Ruby are silent. For now.

The slip of a woman turns and faces me, her heart thumping in her chest. She’s afraid, as she should be, but brave enough to face me. Which is intriguing.

“The others and I would like to know what you plan to do with us now?” She steps closer, stops in front of me, and tilts her head to meet my gaze. Her blue eyes, threaded with bursts of green and gold, meet mine. One would think the color would be cold, but it isn’t. It’s pulsing with energy and life despite the disease inside her. I study her freckles and her pert nose, slightly turned up at the end. Without meaning to, my gaze flicks to her heart-shaped lips, firm with resolve.

I turn away, angry at myself for even looking.

New moon parties give me a means to satisfy my appetites, but listening to Noah and Ruby makes me feel like I’m constantly on the edge of starvation. I hate that my hunger awakens around this woman. She deserves more than that, especially in her condition.

She folds her hands together, patiently waiting for my reply.

I sit and lean back in my chair. “I don’t have an answer for you.”

She crosses the rug and takes the seat across from me, bringing that bright lemony scent with her. I want to hate it, but it isn’t the citrus I hate. It’s the other scent mixed in. Her illness—the decay and desperation.

“We came here on a gamble,” she says. “A chance at life with the risk of a faster death.” She pauses, looks around the room, and takes a deep breath. “The others and I have been talking, and we’d like to stay.”

Not what I expected. This woman is full of surprises, and I’m rarely, if ever, surprised.

“After talking with your sister, with Zarah, we understand that the venom will only work at Solstice if…” She clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably, and her blue eyes drop to her hands in her lap. Her dark lashes fan out across her pale cheeks. “Only if you fall in love with one of us.” She frowns. “I mean, if that were to happen.”

“It won’t.” It’s not an emotion I’ll ever succumb to again. My father cured me of it years ago.

Her eyes snap open and connect with mine. She frowns.

An arch of energy grips the base of my spine. Lust, of course. That’s all. I shake my head and look at the red wine in my glass before glancing once more at the woman sitting across from me. My gaze dips to her throat, and I watch her swallow. “I suppose there’s always Jafeth.” I sip my wine, looking at the fireplace instead of her.

“You don’t believe in love?”

I don’t bother answering.

When the silence stretches into discomfort, she says, “Some of the women would like a chance to live… to fall in love before Summer Solstice.”

“And what of you?”

“I made peace with death a long time ago, but…” She hesitates, and I can see her mind turning over how much she wants to say.

“But?” I prompt, hating how my mind leans toward being curious about this woman.

“I have a son.” She looks down at her hands, her body so still apart from her shallow breaths.

“Where is he now?”

She leans back, though I can't be sure if it’s because she’s feeling more comfortable or trying to put distance between us. “He was taken from me, put in a home when I was admitted to The Essik Sanatorium.”

“No family?”

She shakes her head. “Gone.”

“And his father?”

“Not in the picture.”

I hum a noise.

Her hands, the ones she’s been wringing nervously in her lap, still. “Are you judging me?”

“No.” I meet her gaze, impressed by the fortitude that drives her. “I’m judging the father.”

She looks down at her hands again, squeezing her fingers together. “Though my boy’s in a home, I worry for him. And if there’s a chance I could spend my remaining time with him…”

“Is that why you came here?” I lean forward, recalling my mother, the way her arms wrapped around me after a fall, the way she’d tell me everything would be alright. But it wasn’t. She died and left us behind with our father. My jaw tenses.

“If there’s a chance to stay alive and care for him, I’ll take it. However slim. The thought of leaving him to grow up in–” She stops and swallows, her eyes filling with tears.

I hate the sudden flickering of my hearts in my chest. “You do realize that you have to fall in love with one of us too.” It comes out harsher than she deserves.

It’s an unlikely possibility. Though Noah found love, most women won’t love a monster. Ruby was an anomaly. I know that well. Women don’t fall in love with killers. Even the woman sitting across from me is proof. She smells more of fear than anything else.

Her heart beats faster and that pungent scent of panic increases. It’s a scent the predator in me likes. Squaring her shoulders, she says, “I realize how unlikely it is, but I don’t have any better way to pass my final days than to watch Kay and Anna throw themselves at a man as stoic as you. It’ll be entertaining, at least.” She grins more to herself than me, but that small action grabs hold of my insides and yanks everything tight.

I scoff. “That does not sound entertaining to me.”

“You could get a mate out of it.”

I frown and stare into my nearly empty glass.

When I don’t reply, she has the nerve to add, “I saw the way you looked at your brother and his mate.”

I stand so quickly she gasps, and I turn away, putting distance between us.

“You can’t tell me you’re not jealous… Even I’m jealous.” Her voice drops at the end, almost too low to hear.

I turn my head to look at her, and she stares right in my eyes, daring me to deny it.

Keeping my features relaxed, expressionless, I lean against the hearth, finishing off my wine before I turn the tables on her. “What about your son? Where is he during all this?”

“Here. With me.”

“Roan Island is no place for a child.” I push away from the hearth and cross to the table to refill my wine glass. I can feel her eyes track me and realize I’ll need to share why. “Every month we throw a party that can only be described as debauchery. We feed and fuck with abandon.” I don’t mince my words, wanting to shock her.

Her eyes widen, and this time when her heartbeat speeds up, there’s a note of musky arousal beneath it. I smile. “Is that the kind of environment you want him exposed to?”

Her jaw is set, the muscles tense in her cheek. “Just because something happens in this house doesn’t mean we need to participate in it, or that he needs to know about it.”

We regard each other silently for a longer stretch of time than natural before I return to my seat. “I’ll consider your offer. But I’ll need to discuss it with my brothers.”

I don’t want to give her false hope. It’s unlikely that any of us will fall in love. Impossible that I will. However, it’s quite likely that my family will agree to her request. These women are dying, and after what they did to help rid us of Hammish, letting them stay here for their last days seems like the least we can do. We could make their remaining days… comfortable. A kind of penance.

“Thank you.” She stands and smooths her shabby skirts, drawing my attention to the frayed hem.

“Why aren’t you wearing one of the dresses we provided?”

She lifts and lowers one shoulder, blushing slightly. “Because this one is mine.” She curtsies awkwardly. “Thank you for the audience, Mr. Roan.”

“It’s Shemaiah.”

She dips her chin, turns, and starts across the room to the door, but pauses with her hand on the doorknob. “Goodnight… Shemaiah.”

“Goodnight, Pippa.”

There’s a moment when I think she might turn back to look at me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she straightens her spine and walks from the room.

Though it feels strange, stretching my face for the first time in a long time, I smile a true smile.

***

Thanks so much for reading! If the Roan brothers made you weak in the knees, would you take 3 minutes to leave a review ? It would make us as happy as a freshly fed Mavarri.