I originally intended this to be the final full chapter before the epilogue. Thanks to reflection and inspiration - with a dash of encouragement and advice from hushedgreylily and thehelloitsme - there will be another chapter before the coda. I hope everyone enjoys this meaty, penultimate chapter :)

Claire and Owen sat next to each other on the bench seat in his kitchen to eat their cereal. He put one hand on her thigh and kept making bedroom eyes at her wearing one of his t-shirts. They'd already had sex once that morning, and she insisted they needed to eat before a second round. She also had a request.

"You need to shave," she said bluntly. It was actually an order, not a request. "You're going to rub my skin raw."

"Maybe that's my intention," he teased before planting a kiss on the corner of her jaw below her ear.

"Very charming." She pecked his lips then crinkled her nose. "The mustache should probably go while you're at it."

He groaned loudly, "What?" He ran his thumb and index finger along his mustache. "I like it, and...do you know what a hard time my guys'll give me if it's suddenly gone?"

"For me? Please?" She made puppy dog eyes and stuck out her bottom lip. He glared at her. She rubbed his bicep and laid it on thick. "You don't want to hurt me or my very sensitive skin that YOU want to stay blemish-free." Claire nuzzled his neck. She felt him shudder and thought she was turning the tide.

"What if the pack doesn't like it?" She stopped short of rolling her eyes and pondered whether this could be a legitimate reason. After all, she wasn't a behaviorist. He grinned as if reading her mind, looking triumphant. Her eyes slitted.

"You can always grow it back," she scoffed.

"You really want to change me?" he whined. She could tell that he was half-teasing and trying to distract her attention from the hand that was slowly creeping down the inner aspect of her thigh.

"You've changed me. It's only fair." The words came out automatically. Her tone serious. He stilled and looked deep into her eyes. There it was again. Her breath caught in her throat. Unspoken words seemed to hang in the air. Owen suddenly diverted his gaze and cleared his throat. His hand moved from her thigh to his own. She shivered at the loss of contact.

He spoke in the direction of his cereal bowl, "If it's important to you, I'll shave it off. I can't promise it'll be gone for good though." Before things got more awkward or their meal devolved into complete silence, she brought up another topic that had been nagging her.

"Why would Hoskins suggest you when I asked for a behaviorist?"

"Get me out of the way." He was matter-of-fact and turned his eyes toward her again.

"For what?"

He sighed, "A field test."

"For the raptors?" He nodded. "To what end?"

"A hunt." She was stunned. Hoskins couldn't possibly be planning such a thing near the park. In proximity to guests or staff. Owen chuckled. "I like watching the gears turning in your head." She smiled warmly at him. "Not here, Claire. Sorna."

"Hunting what...exactly?" She was almost shaking with nervous energy.

"Something...classified." Proprietary was the word Henry used. Her mind raced. She wondered if the hybrid for Nublar was not Henry's first genetically-modified creation. She shuddered. All of the animals were his creations. The park wouldn't exist if not for him. "It ain't a good idea," Owen added after swallowing a bite of cereal. "For a multitude of reasons."

"Yeah," she sputtered in disbelief, "like how would you corral them after they'd tasted freedom?" She thought about all the incidents managed by ACU when rogue herbivores needed corralling outside their zones. She cringed at what it would be like with a pack of raptors.

"That's one problem." A shadow seemed to fall over his countenance. "I'm more concerned about the consequences if it works."

"What do you mean?"

"Hoskins wants a weapon." She transitioned from stunned to shocked.

"How long have you known this?"

He winced and gritted his teeth, "From the beginning?" Her eyes popped wider - if that were possible. He was clearly reluctant to admit this. "I trained dolphins and sea lions for military operations in my former life." He shrugged. "Call it willful blindness...while I enjoyed my job here. They're my girls, Claire. It's hard to think about that endgame, even when Hoskins is squeezing us."

"Does Barry know?"

"No. I want him to have plausible deniability if...shit goes south." Her heart pounded in fear. She grabbed his shoulders and twisted his body toward her.

"'Goes south'?!"

"Don't worry about it. I got it handled." Then, it dawned on her.

"It's why you always step in. Why you don't give Barry more leeway. You WANT the raptors to only respond to you. It protects them from being used." He shot her a look that seem to say "bingo." She leaned back and breathed out, long and slow. She was contemplative. He took her hand and rolled his thumb over her knuckles.

"I wish it were that simple to protect them," he sighed. "And me." She bit her lip to keep it from quivering and tucked herself into his side. "It's a tightrope act. We have to make an honest effort to get them to respect Barry. Otherwise, Hoskins could just..." His voice trailed off, so she finished his sentence.

"Replace them and you." Owen swallowed hard and kissed her forehead.

"Alternatively, he could take advantage of my unique bond with them." She looked up at him quizzically. "Use them against me. Give me an ultimatum that forces me into doing something that I know isn't right." That dark shadow hadn't moved from his face. It was heart-rending. Claire wanted to soothe his burdened soul.

"I had no idea things were so complicated," she said softly. "I wish there was something I could do." He finally smiled.

"You do more for me than you could ever know." He seemed to stop himself from saying more. At least the shadow seemed to lift as well. He kissed her gently before adding, "Be careful around Hoskins...and Wu, since they're apparently up to something together. I can't let Hoskins know how smart the raptors truly are. I purposely drag my feet on filing reports, but he's no dummy. Vic can tell I'm withholding gains from him. I just don't want him to have any...ammunition." He winced. "I meant what I told you before. I'm worried that they'll outgrow even my influence. Then, he'd definitely replace us."

She squeezed his hand and said, "You're irreplaceable to me." Owen leaned down to kiss her fiercely. His stubble roughly grazed her skin, but she didn't fuss. She did notice the tenting of his boxers.

He pulled out of the kiss abruptly to proclaim, "If you still want me to shave before we have sex, we better stop now." He was wearing that boyish grin she liked.

Claire sat back and laughed, "Yes, please shave." He let out an over-dramatic sigh. She followed him to his bathroom and leaned against the doorframe. "Take your time," she directed in a playful tone. "I don't want you to cut yourself." He pulled off his shirt and threw it in her direction, causing her to squeal.

"You're going to make me nervous if you watch me," he smirked. Her eyes lit up when she saw him take out a straight razor. Her fingers itched to touch it. Owen looked at her with curiosity. "What is it?"

"Can I...do the honors?" she asked with excitement in her voice. His eyebrows went up.

"You know how to shave with a straight razor?" He seemed genuinely intrigued but not entirely believing.

"My dad always used to say, 'real men use a straight razor.'" She smiled at him lasciviously. "My good judgment is further confirmed." She ran a hand from his shoulder to his wrist and reveled in his physical reaction to her touch.

"Stop teasing me, Claire." She outstretched her hand for the blade, and he passed it to her gingerly. She could tell that it was sharpened.

She examined the blade then laughed, "My dad never had any sons, but I was always fascinated by it. I used to watch him, and then I used one myself." Owen's jaw dropped.

"That's how you stay so smooth? Damn, I'm impressed."

"Past tense." She shrugged. "It's too time-consuming for the surface area. And always grows back thicker. I eventually got electrolysis."

He laughed, "I'm learning your secrets, too." One side of his mouth curled up. "How are we doing this?" She looked around the small bathroom to get her bearings.

"I'll have to sit on the sink." Claire could tell that he was very turned on. She hoped he'd be able to keep still for this activity. He lifted her so that she was perched on the sink's edge. He groaned as she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him into her. She could now feel the level of his arousal. She questioned the wisdom of her decision - it was making her hot, too - but plunged ahead anyway. He passed her his "Beard Lube" shaving cream, causing her to snigger.

"What?" he quipped defensively. "This shit is the best."

"Hold still and be quiet," she instructed. "You know I can't handle your blood on my hands."

"Yes, ma'am," he teased before relaxing his face.

The entire process was erotic. The temperature in the confining space undoubtedly spiked. Claire had to force herself to focus. To prevent her hands from shaking. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and controlled. He obeyed her verbal and nonverbal commands to adjust the position of his head. She always enjoyed the precision of a straight razor. She never enjoyed wielding one more than she did in this moment. Her power and skill were on full display. It was clearly intoxicating to them both. His absolute trust, however, made her feel important in way that she never previously conceived. A way that she knew was world-altering.

When she finished with his cheeks and jaw, she hesitated. His smooth chin rested in her hand. It felt amazing as she rubbed it between her fingers. Her eyes moved up to his. She bit her lip. She reconsidered wanting to take his mustache from him. He'd already given so much of himself to her. Did she really need this, too? Owen silently acknowledged her conflict and responded by flashing her that intense look. His eyes brimmed with emotion. It was so much more complex than simple adoration. Her hands threatened to shake more violently than ever. He nodded his head subtly into her hand. Claire took a deep breath before starting to shave his upper lip. Her movements became even more gentle. He didn't flinch or grimace. She was overcome with her own emotions and felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

After his lip was completely shaven, she collapsed the razor into its handle and laid it on the sink top. Owen swiped away the hairs that had fallen on her thighs. A few stragglers remained, and he lightly blew at them. The sensation gave Claire goosebumps. Dampness and heat spread between her legs. She leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against his. The contact made her skin tingle. She hummed as she felt him fully harden and push through the opening in his boxers. One of his hands lifted the t-shirt she wore and inched slowly up her back. Their skin remained flush while she turned her face to kiss him. Without the mustache, it initially seemed like she was kissing a stranger. The thought made her blush. The shock subsided quickly, and she melted into him. Drawn into everything that constituted her Owen. All of her senses flared. Her arms snaked around his back. Her legs tightened at his hips, eliciting his gratified groan.

Lost in their kiss, Claire was only vaguely aware of his surreptitiously reaching into his medicine cabinet. She saw the condom in her peripheral vision and said in a sultry tone, "Let me do that, too." Owen massaged the outer aspect of her thighs as she rolled on the latex. When she was done, she mewled in delight.

He abruptly lifted her hips and growled, "Your turn to hold still." Before she could react, he used the razor to cut off her underwear.

She gasped and said, "You know I don't have another pair here." He smiled deviously, and she was honestly too excited to care. She positioned her legs at his waist as he pulled the fabric out from beneath her.

"Brace yourself," he warned with the quirk of a brow. She gripped the sides of the sink, and he pushed inside her. His skin was smooth, but his movements were rough. His hold on her hips covetous. The contents of the medicine cabinet rattled. The walls of the bathroom seemed to shake. Claire's eyes rolled into her head. Owen tipped her head backward to kiss her neck and lifted one of her legs to thrust deeper. It caused her to cry out. Her hands to tense around the sink top. Owen emitted a low chuckle. The rattling intensified. Her head swam. "You are so sexy," he said breathlessly.

"The sexiest," she panted in response.

"Yes. Without question." He pressed into her elevated thigh with greedy fingers. Her body turned into a pool of liquid heat.

"O-o-Owen," came her stuttered moan. His name the only word she could manage. Even if she really was terrible at dirty talk, there was no mistaking their palpable connection. It was all-encompassing. She lost the sense of where she ended and he began. Their movements became frenzied. Their mouths pressed together ferociously as they reached the pinnacle simultaneously. They muffled each other's cries and were somehow brought closer together by coming undone.

They maintained an arresting eye contact long after their bodies stilled and their breathing slowed. Claire was almost afraid to move or speak - as if it would break the spell she'd fallen under. It was akin to how she'd felt the morning after they first slept together, when she lingered in her bed for hours. Unfortunately, his sink wasn't nearly as comfortable. Owen must've appreciated this and silently lifted her to stand on the floor. She glanced briefly at the tattered underwear near her feet.

"My keepsake," he smirked, "from the HOTTEST sex of my life." She blushed then cupped his face in her hands. She sighed in contentment with his statement and her handiwork. "I'm gonna get hard every time I touch that razor. I may shave more often just to relive this in my mind." He was almost rambling. His apparent euphoria was adorable. She kissed him sweetly.

"You're welcome," she preened.

"How do I look?" he asked in jest. The mirror was right in front of him. She considered her response carefully. She wanted to avoid him thinking that she didn't like his previous appearance, but she honestly preferred him clean-shaven.

"Younger." He rolled his eyes at this.

"Great," he groaned sarcastically while eyeing himself in the mirror. "My nickname in the Navy was 'Babyface.' I have a sneaking suspicion it'll be resurrected." She couldn't stop herself from giggling. He looked at her sternly. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny," she taunted. "So, you were hiding behind a mustache?" He rolled his eyes again. "Own it. Own this youthful face." She patted his cheek. "Now, we're both gorgeous."

He scoffed in a playful tone, "What was I before?"

"Ruggedly handsome." Claire batted her lashes seductively. Owen shook his head.

"This better have earned me a fuck ton of brownie points."

"What do you want?"

"Your smart mouth." The way he smiled at her, she fully understood the implication.

"I think that can be arranged."

The days that followed were surreal to Claire. She finally understood and applied the principle of "work hard, play hard." Both she and Owen kept long hours, but they still managed to be together at night. It was wonderful to her not to feel guilty for staying late at her office. She never had to justify her obligations to him. On some evenings, they barely spoke and simply went to sleep after having sex. Her prediction that the sex would keep getting better proved to be true. Unpredictably but reassuringly, it wasn't necessary every night. When he returned to the island after training at the jiu-jitsu studio, they just fell into bed exhausted and happy.

The effortless balance to their relationship was almost too good to be true. They alternated staying at each other's homes without associated friction. She didn't bust his balls or vice versa. They were supportive sounding boards for each other and provided constructive feedback. Claire could save up her suspicions about Wu culled during the day and spill them to Owen at night. He, in turn, unloaded to her about juggling the process of finding a replacement for Barry with mentoring Barry in preparation for his role as the hybrids' Alpha. They shared openly with complete trust and without fear of judgment.

After spending a few hours working on Sunday morning, they met up for a lazy afternoon at his place. Owen planned to grill food for them and asked Claire to wear a bathing suit for swimming in the lake. Her bikini top didn't stay on long once they were in the water. The ease with which he removed her clothes never ceased to amaze her. He pinned her against the end of the dock, where it was just deep enough for her stand and maintain her modesty.

"I can't wait until we'll be able to have sex here," he smirked. "Less than three weeks now."

"But who's counting?" she teased. Her face contorted with mock disgust as she looked from side-to-side at the vertical beams supporting the dock. "I don't know about this. I might get splinters."

"We'll do it 'bionic seahorse,' and I promise to be gentle." She snorted in disbelief. She never had sex in water before but heard that it wasn't particularly enjoyable - water being a poor lubricant. He ignored her reaction and demonstrated his tenderness with a mind-blowing kiss. His hands cupped her breasts under the water. She was turning into putty. Just when she thought they'd need to relocate to his bedroom, Owen pulled away. She opened her eyes, and he was gazing at her intensely.

"Claire, there's something I need to say." Her heart skipped a beat. His brow furrowed. He looked deadly serious but also nervous. She held her breath. "Something Barry told me that's been bothering me." Before he could finish, they turned their heads at the sound of a vehicle pulling up to the bungalow.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied cautiously. As soon as the car door opened, she knew. It was unmistakable. She'd recognize that shade of violet anywhere.

"Marisa," she whispered.

"What?" he exclaimed. He stiffened and passed Claire her bikini top. He moved in front of her as she redressed. She took hold of his hand, and they walked out of the lake together. Marisa noticed them and stood next to her car. She was sneering when they approached her.

"I need to talk to Owen alone," she said while giving Claire the stink eye.

"I'll be inside," Claire spoke before Owen could respond and scowled at the other woman.

Marisa turned to Owen, "So, I guess this is a legit thing." Her voice dripped with disdain. "I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse." Claire had never seen Owen looking so enraged. She squeezed his hand before going inside the bungalow.

She tried not to eavesdrop, but the walls of the bungalow were thin. Claire could tell that they were arguing. Marisa's voice kept getting louder, but Owen seemed to be keeping himself under control. That was likely for Claire's benefit. She distinctly heard Marisa shout, "You couldn't remember my name in bed. Is it such a stretch of the imagination that you'd forget a condom, too?" Claire covered her mouth to muffle her gasp. Owen told Marisa to quiet down. Marisa spoke louder - as if directing her voice toward the bungalow, "She should probably know that you said HER name while WE were having sex." Claire almost laughed. She guessed that Marisa posted her photo of Owen on Instagram to spite him.

Marisa finally lowered her voice, but they continued arguing for a few minutes more. Claire tensed when she heard a car door slam followed shortly thereafter by Owen's feet on the bungalow steps. He burst through the door and avoided Claire's eyes. He sat next to her on the bed and put his head in his hands. She waited for him to speak.

"You were right about me, Claire. I'm a careless scoundrel. I treat women like dirt." It upset her to hear him talk about himself like that. She felt close to tears. He'd never sounded so devastated. "I was pressuring you into sex, got frustrated...and piss drunk, and ended up in bed with someone who reminded me of you. I used her and now..." His voice trailed off as he anxiously ran his fingers through his hair.

Claire swallowed hard and finished his sentence, "She's pregnant?" Her voice cracked as she said it. Owen simply nodded. She breathed out and put an arm around him. He shrugged her off and looked at her with remorse. She pursed her lips and said, "Owen, you didn't give me a shiner. I've already gotten passed you and Marisa. This doesn't change anything for me." His expression shifted to one of shock. Claire remained calm and sighed, "She could be lying, trying to cause us trouble. Out of spite. You'll get a paternity test. Nothing's certain until then."

"She's getting an abortion," he said solemnly. Claire was flabbergasted.

"Then, she's definitely being spiteful! Why would she even come here?"

"She wants me to help her pay for it." He looked down dejectedly.

"You will do no such thing." Her anger surged. She stood up and paced in front of the bed. "There's no way to prove what she says. You have no idea who else she's been with. For all we know, she's visiting all her partners, asking for money." She finished through gritted teeth, "Bitch." Claire stopped pacing when she noticed Owen smiling. "What?"

"You," he laughed and patted his lap, motioning for her to sit. She plopped down on him and put her arms around his neck. Owen returned her embrace and stared at her in that more-than-adoring way. "I can't believe this. You used to think the worst of me, and now..." He shook his head. "When Marisa was talking to me out there, all I could think about was losing you. How I fucked up. How I confirmed your fears about me and...and what you told Barry." She suddenly knew what he meant. What he referenced in the water, before they were interrupted.

"Owen-"

"You're enough for me, Claire. You're more than I ever thought I would get. Much more than I deserve." His eyes welled with tears. She felt responsible, in part, for his distress. Her long-held defenses, her doggedly clinging to self-preservation contributed to the pain he currently felt. She needed to make it go away. She needed to say what she'd been holding back. The moment for such a revelation was not what she anticipated - far removed from how it happened in her romance novels - but it was probably the right time for them. She started to tremble, but her eye contact didn't waver.

"You're deserving, Owen." His eyes went wide, and she placed a hand on his cheek. "I love you." His entire body relaxed. He closed his eyes and put his hand on top of hers on his cheek. There was so much more Claire wanted to say, but she knew from his reaction that those three words were all that was needed.

When he reopened his eyes, they burned into hers with a previously unmatched fire. It made her feel branded. Claimed. "I love you, too." She blushed. "You knew that already." She nodded. "I'm that obvious?" he teased.

"It was obvious to everyone in the infirmary." She felt a weight lifting as she said it out loud. She could finally acknowledge what she felt from him. What she wanted to deny. "I told you I didn't think I deserved it." She felt shy. "Say it again."

"I love you, Claire." She hummed in profound satisfaction and snuggled into him. He fell backward onto the bed, pulling her down with him and eliciting a squeal. She felt his heart beating fast, like a hummingbird. He rolled their bodies to face her. "You've changed me. And not just my mustache. You know that, too, right?" She nodded and rested her forehead against his.

"Make love to me."

"When have I not?"

"Never." She knew that to be true as well. Even when leaned over his kitchen table, his love for her was there.

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