His mouth finds mine before I can think, hot and desperate and tasting like coffee and want. I pull him closer, fisting my hands in his shirt, and he responds by pushing me back against the nearest tree. The rough bark bites into my spine, but I don't care. The scent of cedar and sweat fills my lungs.
I can't tell where my hunger ends and his begins. Every breath feeds the loop between us, makes it stronger, more desperate. His teeth graze my bottom lip and I gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. My hands findhis hair, soft and thick between my fingers, and when I tug, the noise he makes goes straight through me.
The world narrows to this—his weight against me, the taste of him on my tongue, the way his heart pounds under my palm when I spread my hand across his chest. Heat pools low in my stomach, sharp and demanding, and I'm drowning in want that might be his, might be mine, might be both of us spiraling together.
When we finally break apart, I can barely breathe. My lips feel swollen, my skin too tight. Gray's forehead rests against mine, both of us shaking.
"Shit," I whisper, the word barely more than breath.
"Yeah," he agrees, voice wrecked. "That was..."
He doesn't finish. Can't finish. Neither can I.
"Shit." I take a step back, running shaking hands through my hair. "I'm sorry, I—"
"You didn't hurt me," Gray says quietly, and there's something in his voice that makes me look up.
"I wanted to."
"Yeah." A pause, and then his mouth curves into something that might be a smile. "Me too."
The admission hangs between us, weighted with everything we're not saying. I feel calmer now—still starving, but centered in a way I haven't been in weeks. Like I've finally found something that fits, something that makes sense of all the pieces of myself I've been trying to hide.
We walk back toward the group in silence, my shirt wrinkled and Gray's hair a disaster, neither of us bothering to pretend otherwise.
Stellan is waiting for us, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and that knowing expression that suggests he's been watching the whole time.
"Well," he says, dry as dust. "That didn't take long."
Jace stares openly, his green eyes wide with something between surprise and approval. Rhett pretends not to notice, but his shoulders are tense with the effort of not looking. Theo blinks like he did notice but is already filing it away for later analysis.
I should feel embarrassed. Exposed. Instead, I just feel wanted—genuinely, completely wanted for exactly what I am. It's a feeling I could get addicted to.
Bree steps forward, and for just a moment, something flickers across her face—something that looks almost like longing before she covers it with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Ready?" she asks, and something in her voice makes the Ether around her pulse brighter, more alive.
I nod, Gray's warmth still echoing through that thread between us, and follow her toward whatever's waiting at the sanctuary gate.
Chapter 24
Bree
The hill is steeper than it looked from the road.
My legs burn by the time we reach the top, and I'm trying not to breathe too hard because Thane and Stellan don't even look winded. Of course they don't. I bet they could climb mountains without breaking a sweat.
But when I see the ruins, breathing becomes the least of my problems.
"Oh," I whisper.
It's not what I expected. Not some crumbling pile of rocks or tourist-trap ancient monument. It's... broken, yes. But broken beautiful. Like someone took something magnificent and scattered the pieces just deliberately enough that you can still see what it used to be.
Arches that frame empty air. Walls that stop mid-sentence. Ivy threading through carved stone like it's trying to hold everything together with green fingers.
The mist around my ankles shifts, and for a second I swear it feels... eager.
"Where are the crews?" Thane's voice cuts through whatever moment I was having.
