tricks of time ― grayson hawthorne [the inheritance games]

EPILOGUE

Grayson, Jameson, Xander, and Nash.

Libby, Thea, and Rebecca.

Me.

Alisa held a glass of champagne but stood back from the group.

"Three..."

"... two..."

"... one."

The next thing I knew, confetti was flying everywhere. I had no idea where Xander had gotten confetti, but he continued to produce it, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Happy new life," Grayson said. He kissed me like it was New Years Eve, and I savored it. I'd survived a year in Hawthorne House. I had fulfilled the conditions of Tobias Hawthorne's will. I was a billionaire.

One of the richest, most powerful people on the planet.

"Shall I?" Alisa asked me. Nash's eyes narrowed, with excitement, as he watched Alisa pull out the paper. She handed me a pen.

And in that moment, I only hesitated for a second. Under the bright, cherry colored and electric blue fireworks that illuminated the night and surrounded by the people I called family, I signed the document.

It was mine.

___

Me and Grayson headed upstairs. I was exhausted, and although he didn't show it, I knew he was, too.

"I suppose Jameson's nickname for you is finally fitting. Heiress."

I smile. "Thank you," I say, turning to the boy by my side. "Thank you, for everything." I lock the door behind me.

"Why thank me?" He smiles, and I see his dimples. "I made your life living hell for most of your time here."

"You did?" I say. "I can't remember that."

The skin on my lips melts as they meet with his. The force of his mouth is strong, arms drawing me even closer. They don't stay in place, after moments. Instead, his hands have gone to the base of my hips. I can feel the calloused tips of his fingers gripping my waist through my dress.

The sensation of him makes every bit of me dissolve into something like a great lust. A form of intimacy so passionate we are already toppling backwards into the mattress. Grayson is propped above me, his fingers taking their own sweet time exploring my lower abdomen. They roam across, all the way to the protruding bit of bone on either side of me, where my skin is the softest and the thinnest.

I kissed him. He kissed me back. And we lay down and kept kissing. And it was soft. And we made quiet noises. And kept silent. And still. And we touched each other from the waist up over our clothes. And then under our clothes.

"Tell me you won't regret it," he rasps. "Tell me you won't be sorry."

"I won't be sorry," I gasp. "I won't regret it. I won't regret any of it."

So he sits up, breaking the bond momentarily, to lift the fabric from his body that I have been trying at. He pulls it from his torso, letting it fall on the floor, as his bare chest is revealed to me. The shine of his chest glows.

I want nothing more to open his pages and read him. Every word of him.

He looks at me, and I nod, allowing him to strip me of the silk that leaves my entire self bare to him— except only two pieces of clothing.

The growing need inside me is stronger than any desire I think I've felt, ever. I want him, more than I've wanted anyone else. And there have been others. Not many. But not any of them can even compare to this, even just in the way Grayson Davenport Hawthorne looks at me.

Because he looks at me like I've been sculpted out of marble.

His muscles contract as we lay back.

Together we are united in some sort of other-wordly form.

"You're perfect," he says, kissing me again on the lips. "I think you might be the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on." He kisses me again, savoring the noise I make.

My spine arches just a sliver at this, as his lips lower themselves to all over me. I pull him closer to me, my hands exploring the backs and muscles of his shoulders, falling to the muscles in his back. He lets out a low groan.

We transform into something beautiful as become one another.

I realize that I need him, to live. The gold, hidden behind layers and layers of stone. The bright gold that means everything, rebirth and destruction and everything in between. The promise that life can be good. Beautiful. And only Grayson can give me that, I'm sure of it.

He stares at me as he lowers his lips to mine, our bodies brushing. It was like everything made sense.

As we stare at each other, desperation etched into our features, we are only thinking one thing. That this is perfect. We are perfect.

He is staring at me through it all. And I'm staring at him.

And God, he is so beautiful.

As I feel the wave of euphoria run over me like hot, warm honey, I can think only one thing besides him— how time plays strange, strange tricks sometimes.

It makes memories feel like yesterday, yet distant like a dream, as it slips through our fingers like sand.

For me and Grayson, it left an imprint on our hearts that will last forever.

authors note

yes, the book is finished. i'm not upset about it, you are. i am definitely not in shock about how i just wrote 3,000 words after not touching this book for over three months.

i'm sorry if you expected more and if this ending was super anticlimactic and not expected. i really tried to make it beautiful and i'm sorry if everything at the end was cringy. but i thought everything was very fitting.

authors note following shortly! this is just a small note from me, trust me. i'll be writing paragraphs of "thank you's" in the following chapter.

word count: 3228 words