My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, looking at this impossible woman who just brought me to my fucking knees. “You’re something else, Chaos.”
“So I’ve been told,” she quips, rising gracefully to her feet. “Now come to bed. It’s late, and I want you to stay so I can have you again for breakfast.”
Raven’s bedroom is dark except for the silver spill of moonlight through half-drawn curtains. I follow her in silence, my body still humming with aftershocks.
The sheets are cool against my skin as I stretch out beside her, my naked body a stark contrast to her still-clothed form. She remedies this quickly, stripping out of her clothes until she’s completely naked as well.
Then she slides in next to me. No ceremony, no shy glances—just the simple practicality of two bodies seeking rest together.
I settle onto my back, one arm folded behind my head. She arranges herself against me like she’s done it a thousand times. One leg thrown over mine, an arm draped across my chest, her head nestled in the hollow of my shoulder.
“Your heart’s racing,” she murmurs, her palm flat against my chest where she can feel my pulse hammering beneath skin and bone.
“Side effect of excellent head,” I reply, earning a soft snort against my skin.
“Told you,” she yawns.
“That you did,” I agree easily.
Her breathing gradually slows, her body melting further into mine with each exhale. The weight is an anchor, keeping me tethered when everything inside me feels like it might float away.
“Why a knife?” I ask finally, my voice low in the darkness. “Not a gun? Not mace?”
She shifts slightly, her leg sliding higher over mine. “Dad said guns are too loud and impractical. And a mace affectseveryone in range.” Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest, connecting tattoos and scars into new constellations. “A knife is intimate. You have to be close to use it. Look them in the eye.”
I hum in agreement, my fingers finding the knobs of her spine beneath soft skin. “I’ve always preferred fire, personally.”
“No kidding,” she mumbles, voice heavy with approaching sleep. “I’ve seen you play with your lighter. The way you watch the flame… it’s like you consider it part of you.”
The observation strikes deeper than she knows. No one’s ever seen it so clearly. How the flames that destroyed my childhood forged something new in their wake. Something that burns constantly and hungrily beneath my skin.
“And what are you made of, Little Thief?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She chuckles, the sound vibrating against my ribs. “Chaos, obviously. Bad decisions and excellent instincts.” Her hand slides up to rest over my heart again. “Questionable taste in men.”
“Impeccable taste, you mean.”
“Mhmm, debatable.” But her body presses closer, betraying her words.
We lie in the dark, her body gradually growing heavier against mine as sleep claims her. Her breathing deepens, each exhale a warm puff against my chest. I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts a storm despite the calm of her weight on me.
What the fuck am I doing here? This isn’t part of the plan. This woman was supposed to be a tool—a means to find my enemy, nothing more. Instead, she has crawled under my skin. I’ve killed men for less than what she’s done to me.
Stolen from me, challenged me, seen parts of me I keep buried from everyone else. But there’s no denying I’ve changed. Or more importantly, my feelings have changed.
I would burn cities to keep her safe, reduce the world to ash if it tried to take her from me.
Raven’s breathing has been steady and deep for long enough that I’m certain she’s asleep. I let my guard down, just a fraction, secure in the knowledge that she can’t hear me.
“I think I’m in love with you,” I whisper into the darkness, the confession burning my throat like cheap whiskey.
There’s a pause, just long enough for my heart to stutter in my chest. Then her sleepy voice breaks the silence, completely destroying the moment.
“It’s because of my ass, right?”
I freeze, then laugh. A real laugh that starts somewhere deep and bursts out before I can stop it. Of course, she wasn’t asleep. Of course, she’d turn my raw confession into a joke. She’s chaos incarnate, the perfect counterpoint to my fire.
“Partly,” I admit, tightening my arm around her. “But also because you pulled a knife on a stranger tonight and made me harder than I’ve ever been in my life.”
