In the Light of the Moon

|EPILOGUE

|FIVE YEARS LATER

I sat on the porch, watching the dark, rumbling clouds move closer by the second. The dazzling lightning touched down. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. The thunder boomed—the storm is thirteen miles away. My back erupted in burning pain, and I squirmed.

I remember when I used to go running at first sight of a storm, my heart beating out of my chest. For the first two years or so, Monica would have to, literally, coax me out of the closet. The sound of lightning would send me right back to that night. Oh, how my hands would tremble...

But then I learned to notice the beauty of the storms—how the water made the flowers flourish, and the cracking of the lightning and rumble of thunder would make the children grin. I learned to enjoy the magnificence behind the force of nature.

The floorboards creaked behind me, and the scent of roses invaded my nose. Monica joined me on the porch swing and handed me a steaming mug. "Here you go, μαργαριτάρι μου."

I started teaching Monica Greek, and she's pretty fluent now. Since I created the mate bond, Monica has been able to communicate with my Ισκιος, and they are as eager to serve her as they are me. Both her wolf and witch side have gotten more intense, as well. Her magic is more potent, and her wolf senses are even more heightened.

"Thank you." I blew on the tea. "Oh, how you spoil me."

Monica laughed and wrapped her arms around me. I took her hands as she rested her head against my shoulder. We rocked gently to the crescendo of the steady pitter-patter of the rain.

Crack! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Boom!

Monica jumped beside me. My back protested, and I let out a little groan. "Does your back hurt?" she asked.

"Yeah."

The scar on my back never did fade. It remained there, as fresh as it was all those years ago. And now, every time it storms, it burns. Monica called me Harry Potter for at least a year because of it.

Monica swung her feet up on my lap. "I'm sorry, babe. Should I go call your brother?"

I laughed and pinched her leg. "No. I'm fine, honestly. I can take a bit of pain."

Crack! One, two, three, four, five, six. Boom!

She poked me. "Come on, let's head inside—we're going to get wet."

"One second."

Crack! One, two, three. Boom!

Her grip tightened on my arm. "Delia."

Crack! Boom!

The lightning lit up the sky, demanding me to yield. The thunder was deafening, and I flinched a little.

"Okay. Now we can go inside."

Monica didn't hesitate. She sprung off my lap and dashed for the door. I smiled and followed, the wind kicking up my hair. The door slammed shut after us. Derek and Damaris stared at us as we bustled into the kitchen, laughing.

"Aunty Dee!" Derek's three-year-old daughter, Saina, ran out from behind the kitchen island.

The poor girl can't pronounce 'Delia.' I decided to go by Delia instead of Artemis to keep a low profile. I didn't want the wolves here to fear me any more than they already do. I figured a new identity would ease their fears. I made my hair entirely dark and shoulder-length, and my eyes are a standard green. I kept the look of Cynthia's face, but the same age as Monica. I also kept my marks.