never dared to dream of. My magic is my two best friends in the world, Serge and Jax.
My magic is my three children. They are my life, my hopes, my dreams, and everything I strive for as an advocate, a voice, and a human being. I truly hope everyone who reads this book finds their own unique magic and it gives you the life you dreamed of.
I hope you find joy. Because no matter the harsh circumstances that your life might be in now, there is hope for later. There is the possibility of more. Of breaking beyond your barriers and embracing something new. Of something daring and reckless and unique. A life maybe you don’t think you deserve, but you do. We all do.
No matter our gender, we all deserve love, acceptance, respect, and joy. I have fought for those things for half my life and I will never stop. I will teach my children to never stop. I hope you teach your children the same.
Find your magic; keep it close.
Kell stared at the final line, unsure if it was enough to close out the book. His editor would tell him if he needed something stronger or not. And he still had a few chapters that needed fleshing out—some nights he simply couldn’t stomach remembering parts of his past and he’d been too vague—but those weren’t for today.
Today, he’d completed a very rough draft of his memoir. Growing up, he never saw himself as anything remarkable, beliefs only reinforced by the cruelty of his sire’s words about omegas. He thought he was only worth the products of his womb. But then he’d met Ronin. Been freed of Krause’s manipulations and abuse. Been loved and treasured, and Kell had birthed three amazing children. Chaired human rights foundations. Been the cause of so much change in Sansbury Province in the last twenty years.
He had become someone others respected and listened to. And now he was using his voice in a new way, by writing this book. By detailing some of the most painful, horrific moments of his life for others in a way he never had before. Writing about the things he hadn’t been able to say in open court all those decades ago, because Kell had chosen to plead guilty, rather than take the stand. To end his torment rather than prolong it.
Kell saved the draft and then closed his document, exhausted of writing about himself for a long time to come. Yes, there were revisions and edits to do but those could wait. Tonight, he wanted to celebrate a completed draft. He wanted to be happy for Karson and Rebel’s impending new arrival. For Branson loving his job, Caden enjoying this summer’s apprenticeship, and Emory anticipating his next semester at university.
He wanted to celebrate his family.
Caden texted a few more photos from the baby shower. Mostly of the younger guests playing ridiculous party games for equally ridiculous prizes. Everyone was smiling, probably laughing, and so damned happy his heart swelled. Kell would never not want pictures like these. He texted as much to Caden.
The sounds of the front door opening and closing—they’d had an electronic bell installed when they bought the place, so Kell and Ronin could monitor the comings and goings of the household—startled him. But he’d set the alarm and it didn’t go off, so it was either Branson or Ronin. Maybe Dex. The only other people besides his kids with the code were Serge, who was busy with Emory’s heat, and Jax, who was at the baby shower.
Ronin’s familiar scent tickled his nose before the man filled Kell’s office doorway. “How did I know you’d be up here working?”
Kell laughed. “Because you knew I had a deadline for a rough draft, and I think I finally completed it. Why are you home? I thought you were working half the day to prepare for the McDonnel case.”
“Prep went faster than I expected, so we’re ready for trial next week.” He leaned down and kissed Kell’s forehead. “And if you’re done your work for the day, maybe we can take advantage of an empty house.”
“Oh?” Kell pretended not to see the glint in Ronin’s golden eyes. “It’s probably a great time to steam clean the living room carpet.”
Ronin growled softly, and the possessive sound sent a shiver of arousal down Kell’s spine. “I was thinking something that requires fewer clothes. Maybe your legs wrapped around my hips, little one.”
That nickname always undid him, and Kell surged up for