THE CLAIMING (The Chosen Series #1)

EPILOGUE

"Fuck me, Bambi. How many boxes of shoes are you taking with you?" Shay groans as he watches me finish packing another box of my must-have, can't be donated, shoes, and pass it over to him for taping.

"A girl can never have too many shoes," I reply, laughing as he frowns down at the large, brown box.

Opening the lip of the folded cardboard, Shay reaches in, pulls out a strappy silver and crystal stiletto, and holds it up to eye level, inspecting it closely before smirking. "Well," he drawls, "I suppose these spiky things can be worn at home after Griffin installs a stripper pole."

I push myself up from my seated position and gently remove my favorite, Jimmy Choo Misty 120 sandal from Shay's fingers. Turning, I elbow him in the gut, a loud oomph coming from him. Delicately, I settle it back in its box before returning to my spot on the floor.

I hear Griffin chuckle when he enters the bedroom, ready to collect another box, a large grin appearing as he looks at Shay. "Now that's one of the smartest ideas I think you have ever had, brother."

Coming over to where I'm sitting and bending down to press a kiss on my head, Griffin whispers in my ear, "What do you think? Doe, if I put a pole in our room, would you wear them, and only them, for me?" The last few words came out as a purr.

Blushing, I wrap my hands around the collar of his plaid shirt and pull him down for a real kiss, biting his lip and responding through our bond, <Only if you'll use the pole to dance for me?> My mind sending images of him taking me against said pole.

<Anything for you, Doe,> he sends back, heat flooding the bond, as my stomach flutters. I love this man so much.

"Can you two focus? We only have like a million more shoes to pack before we can get on the road, and I'm getting hungry," Shay grumbles. Griffin chuckles again and stands up, moving towards the pile of boxes waiting to be loaded into the trailer.

"Less complaining and more working will help everyone in getting this job done quicker," Griffin tells Shay, patting him on the back as he passes and lifts two boxes that would take at least four guys to carry. Using only one of his arms for balance, he moves to the door, "Why don't you take those boxes down to the trailer, and then we can go down the street and get you girls something to eat." He adds, pointing to the two remaining boxes before walking out.

"Sir, yes sir!" Shay salutes, then, with a look of surprise, "HEY! Did you just call me a girl? Cause I'm more than happy to pull out the evidence to show that I'm most certainly male!" He shouts, taking the boxes and following Griffin out the door.

"Child," Isla sighs, shaking her head, as she closes the newly empty dresser, making me laugh.

Over the past few weeks, away from the Ranch, Isla has gained most of her strength and can now walk by herself, only requiring to rest now and then. She's still quiet, but Griffin assures me that that's normal behavior, and Isla only speaks when she has something worth saying. I've yet to ask Isla her story, but I know that when she's ready, she'll tell me.

Putting the final shoe in the box and standing, I look at my empty room and smile. My time here, in my little house, has been nothing short of amazing. Memories flood my mind. Visions of Erin and I staying up all night, eating ice cream and watching chick flicks, dancing in our pajamas and passing out after several bottles of wine. Along with the happy come the sad memories of us crying on each other's shoulders when the world just seemed too hard to cope with.

Moving in with Griffin is the right decision for me but leaving here is bittersweet. Erin, of course, wasn't surprised when I told her, after speaking with her for several hours over the phone, the day after Griffin and I reconciled, I was able to tell her everything. In typical Erin fashion, she's happy as long as I'm happy. I still haven't been able to talk to her about what happened to make her leave the Ranch or what's going on in her world, but she's promised to visit regularly, especially since she'll be a proud aunt in the next seven or so months. I know I'll eventually get it out of her but, like Isla, Erin will tell me when she's ready.