Page 52 of Doomed (Blackwood Brothers #2)

EPILOGUE

BIANCA

T he wind whips around us as Knox’s motorcycle speeds along the winding road. My arms are wrapped tight around his waist, my cheek pressed against his leather jacket. One year since the Hunt changed everything, and I get the same thrill every time I climb onto the back of this bike with him.

“Almost there,” Knox shouts over the roar of the engine. I can hear the smile in his voice.

I squeeze him tighter in response. He’s been secretive all day, refusing to tell me where we’re going, just that he has a surprise. The familiar curves of the road tell me we’re heading to Eagle Point, and warmth unfurls in my chest.

The bike slows as we reach the turnoff, the path now familiar after countless visits. This place has become ours in a way I never expected—the spot where Knox first showed me a glimpse of his real self, beyond the arrogant playboy facade.

Knox brings the motorcycle to a stop, cutting the engine. The sudden silence feels deafening as I swing my leg over and stand, reaching up to remove my helmet.

“Wait,” Knox says, catching my hands before I can lift my helmet off. “Not yet.”

“Knox,” I laugh, my voice muffled inside the helmet. “What’s going on? I can barely see anything.”

He takes my hand, guiding me forward carefully. “Just a few steps.”

“Is this where you reveal you’re actually a serial killer?” I tease, letting him lead me. “Because this feels very horror movie right now.”

His laugh is low and warm. “You’ve known what I am from the beginning, baby. No surprises there.”

We stop, and his hands come to land on my helmet. “Ready?”

“For what exactly?”

“Your surprise.”

He lifts the helmet away, and I blink as my eyes adjust. The sight before me steals my breath.

Eagle Point has been transformed. A small table draped in blue silk—of course—stands at the edge of the lookout, surrounded by dozens of flickering candles in glass holders.

A picnic basket sits open, revealing wine bottles and covered dishes.

“Knox,” I whisper, taking it all in. “What is this?”

“A surprise for my girl,” Knox says, reaching for my hand.

As he leads me toward the table, his usual cocky demeanor seems... different. There’s tension in his jaw, a slight hesitation in his movements that I rarely see. Knox Blackwood, the man who faces down enemies without blinking, actually looks nervous.

“You okay?” I ask, squeezing his fingers.

“Perfect.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just perfect.”

He pulls out my chair with uncharacteristic formality, waiting for me to sit before moving to the other side of the table. The view of Ravenwood Hollow stretches out beneath us, the city lights twinkling in the gathering dusk.

“Knox, this is beautiful,” I say, taking in the candles flickering in the gentle breeze, the way the table is arranged with such care. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

He reaches for the wine bottle, a vintage I recognize as one I’d mentioned loving months ago. His hands aren’t completely steady as he pours the deep red liquid into crystal glasses.

“Only the best for you,” he says, his voice husky.

When he lifts the covers from the dishes, I can’t help but laugh.

Truffle mac and cheese, the sinfully good kind from that little place in the arts district.

Chocolate-covered strawberries. Those ridiculous fancy sliders from the food truck we discovered during a rainstorm.

Even the spicy tuna rolls from the Japanese restaurant across town that I’m always craving.

“How did you remember all my favorites?” I ask, genuinely touched that he’s paid such close attention.

Knox shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about the intensity in his eyes. “I remember everything about you, Bianca.”

I pick up my fork and dive into the truffle mac and cheese, closing my eyes at the first bite. “Oh my god. Still warm, too. How did you manage that?”

“I have my ways,” Knox says, watching me with that intense gaze that still makes my stomach flip after all this time.

We eat and talk about everything and nothing—his latest business deals, my new painting commission, the ridiculous gossip Michelle shared about Elliot and Julian’s very public argument at the gallery opening last week.

But beneath the normal conversation, tension simmers.

Knox keeps checking his phone, running his hand through his hair, shifting in his seat.

“You sure you’re okay?” I ask, reaching across to touch his hand. “You seem distracted.”

“Just making sure everything’s perfect,” he says, squeezing my fingers.

The sky darkens around us, the candles glowing brighter against the night. Knox reaches for one of the chocolate-covered strawberries, his movements suddenly deliberate. Instead of passing it to me, he stands and moves to my side of the table.

“Open,” he murmurs, holding the berry to my lips.

I part my lips, maintaining eye contact as he feeds me the strawberry. The chocolate melts on my tongue, sweet and rich. A drop of juice escapes the corner of my mouth. Knox catches it with his thumb, his touch lingering against my lip.

“Bianca,” he says, and suddenly he’s dropping to one knee beside my chair.

My heart stops, then starts racing double-time.

“Knox?” My voice barely makes it past my throat.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. When he opens it, the diamond inside catches the candlelight, throwing rainbow reflections across his face.

“I never believed in forever until I met you,” he says, his voice steady despite the nervousness I can feel radiating from him. “Marry me, Bianca. Be mine in every way.”

Tears well up in my eyes, spilling over before I can stop them. I’m nodding before I can even form words, overwhelmed by the rush of happiness that floods through me.

“Yes,” I manage through my tears, my voice breaking with emotion. “Of course it’s a yes, Knox. God, yes.”

Relief and joy transform his face, that rare vulnerability I’ve come to treasure flashing in his eyes. His hands tremble slightly as he slides the ring onto my finger—a stunning oval diamond surrounded by smaller blue sapphires that catch the candlelight. It’s perfect. It’s us.

“It matches your eyes,” I whisper, admiring how the sapphires mirror the exact shade of his intense blue gaze.

Knox rises to his feet, pulling me up with him. His arms wrap around my waist, lifting me slightly so we’re eye to eye. The familiar scent of him—leather, sandalwood, and a scent that’s uniquely Knox—envelops me as his lips claim mine.

The kiss starts tender, a seal on our promise, but quickly transforms into hunger. My fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue slides against mine, claiming, possessing. His hands move to my hips to pull me against him. I can feel how hard he is, his cock pressing insistently against me.

“I want you,” he growls against my mouth. “Need to make you mine in every way tonight.”

“I’m already yours,” I gasp as his teeth graze my neck. “I’ve been yours since the Hunt.”

Knox pulls back enough to give me that wicked smile that makes my knees weak. “I planned for this part too, baby.”

He takes my hand, leading me away from the table and around a cluster of trees I hadn’t noticed before.

There, nestled in a natural alcove, is a makeshift bed—plush cushions covered with silky blankets, surrounded by candles that cast a golden glow over the intimate space.

He’s even arranged branches overhead with sheer fabric draped between them, creating a canopy that offers privacy while allowing glimpses of the starry sky.

“You really did think of everything,” I breathe, taking in the romantic setting.

Knox steps back, his eyes never leaving mine as his hands move to the buttons of his shirt. The familiar cocky smirk spreads across his face.

“Enjoy the show, baby,” he says, slowly unfastening each button with deliberate movements. “This is what you’re signing up for. Forever.”

Heat consumes me as he reveals his tattooed chest inch by tantalizing inch. He shrugs the shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the blankets.

“Like what you see?” he asks, running his hands down his abs to the button of his jeans.

“You know I do,” I whisper, unable to look away.

Knox pops the button, slowly drags down the zipper. “Tell me what you want, Bianca.”

“You. Always you.”

He pushes his jeans down his powerful thighs, kicking them aside until he stands before me in nothing but black boxer briefs, his arousal straining against the fabric.

“How about now?” he asks, palming himself through the thin material. “Still want this?”

He hooks his thumbs in the waistband and slides the boxers down, freeing his cock. My mouth waters as he wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly.

“Want a ride, future Mrs. Blackwood?” he asks, his voice a gravelly purr.

“Fuck yes,” I breathe, reaching for the zipper of my dress. “I want that thick cock inside me. Now.”

I shrug out of my dress, letting it pool at my feet. Knox’s eyes darken as he takes in the crotchless black lace lingerie I’ve been wearing beneath it all evening.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls. “My perfect, filthy princess.”

I push him backward onto the makeshift bed, straddling him in one fluid movement. Without hesitation, I position him at my entrance and slam down, taking him to the hilt in one hard thrust.

Knox growls, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “God, yes—claim what belongs to you.”

“Mine,” I agree, rolling my hips as I ride him relentlessly. “Just like I’m yours.”

“Always,” he grunts, thrusting up to meet each of my downward movements. “Love how you take my cock. So fucking perfect.”

“Harder,” I demand, bracing my hands on his chest as I move up and down. “Make me feel it tomorrow.”