Page 93 of Flare
They made love again and again throughout the night, exploring each other’s bodies with familiarity and passion.
Ward rediscovered all the places that made Emily gasp and moan—the sensitive spot behind her ear, the inside of her wrists, the delicate arch of her foot. He touched her in ways that brought her right up to the edge, then held her there until she was squirming and begging for release. And Emily proved she’d studied his body as well, her hands and mouth driving him to heights of pleasure he’d never experienced before.
In the small hours of the morning, as they lay tangled together in the sheets, sweat-slicked and satisfied, Ward felt a peace he’d never known. Emily’s head rested on his chest, her breathing slow and even as sleep claimed her. The bond between themhummed with contentment, a warm, steady presence in his mind that assured him of her happiness, her safety, her love.
As his own eyes grew heavy, Ward pressed a last kiss to the top of Emily’s head. He looked forward to the joy of waking beside her every morning for the rest of their lives.
And when morning came, he planned to make love to his new mate all over again before whipping up a batch of blueberry pancakes for her.
Epilogue
Summit View Memorial Gardens
Spokane, Washington
November 20 (Three months later)
The cemetery was peaceful in the crisp November air, maple leaves in rusty red, bright yellow, and vivid orange crunching beneath Emily’s boots as she walked hand in hand with Ward down the winding path. She clutched the bouquet of white chrysanthemums and purple asters—her mother’s favorites—in her free hand.
One year. It had been exactly one year since cancer had stolen her mother, leaving Emily alone in the world.
Except she wasn’t alone anymore, not with Ward’s warm, steady presence beside her, and their mating bond glowing like a small, steady beacon in her head.
“It’s just up ahead,” Emily said softly, nodding toward a gentle slope where granite headstones caught the late morning sunlight.
Her heart squeezed in her chest as they approached the Clarke family plot, where her mother shared space with Dad and Emily’s grandparents beneath a mature maple tree now half-bare of leaves.
Ward squeezed her hand.“Take your time, Em. I’ll be waiting for you right here.”
Emily went on alone, grateful for the space he was giving her.
When she reached the grave, Emily kneeled on the small patch of grass before the polished granite headstone that read“Kathleen Marie Clarke, Beloved Wife, Mother and Daughter.” She arranged the flowers in the built-in vase before sitting back on her heels.
“Hi, Mom and Dad,” she whispered, her voice wavering slightly.“Ward’s my husband now.”
The word still sent a thrill through her every time she said it.Husband. The new gold band on her finger nestled comfortably against her topaz engagement ring.
“We got married at the Lemhi County Courthouse in Salmon three weeks ago,” Emily continued, a smile warming her face.“It was perfect. I wish you could’ve been there, but it was just us and the Swansons. They’ve been so good to me, and now they’ve become my family too. You remember my friend Maggie, right? Well, she was my maid of honor. And Ward’s cousin Matt was his best man.”
Emily closed her eyes, remembering the moment she’d said“I do” while wearing her mother’s pearl earrings. Ward had looked at her with such tenderness, such certainty, as he slipped the wedding band onto her finger.
“Our reception was at Justin Long’s restaurant, the same place I used to work at. You would have loved it, Mom. Everyone was dancing and laughing, and Annabeth Swanson made our wedding cake. It was so beautiful.” Emily’s voice grew stronger as she spoke, the memories warming her from within.“I wishyou could have been there in person. But I felt you with me, Mom. I really did.”
And she had. A warm, familiar presence had hovered nearby throughout the ceremony, and Emily had known in her heart that her mother was watching, approving, and celebrating with them. It wasn’t the same as when Sophie had communicated directly with her mother’s spirit, but it still felt real.
Emily wiped at her eyes.“I’m happy. Really, truly happy. I’m right where I belong.”
She fell silent then, simply kneeling there with the cool November breeze rustling the remaining leaves overhead. She didn’t need words to communicate with her mother anymore—the connection between them transcended language, death, and time itself.
After several minutes, Ward approached, placing his large hand gently on her shoulder.“Do you mind if I say something to them?”
Emily looked up at him, her heart swelling with love for this man who understood her so well, and nodded.
Ward’s expression was serious as he addressed the headstone.“Mrs. Clarke, thank you for raising such an incredible woman. I remember you, and I see pieces of you in Emily every day—her strength, her kindness, her ability to see the good in people. Mr. Clarke, I’m sorry you never saw Emily all grown up. If we end up having a boy, we’ll name him after you.”
Humbled, Emily leaned against him, drawing strength from his solid presence. A sudden breeze swept through the cemetery, swirling leaves around them in a gentle dance. Though it wasprobably just a coincidence, Emily believed it was her mother’s way of responding.
They remained for a few minutes longer before Emily finally stood, wiping the last tears from her cheeks.“I’m ready to go now.”
