She keeps coming, until the space between us is thin enough that I can fully smell her perfume — citrus and smoke.New. And I know I didn’t authorize that.
“What do you want, Ember?” I manage, though my voice comes out lower than I intend.
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe I’m just bored.”
I arch a brow, “Try again.”
She exhales, a quiet, trembling sound that doesn’t match her words. “You said not to play with things I don’t understand. So… Maybe I’m trying to learn.”
She’s close enough now that I can feel the heat from her body. The dress glints with every breath she takes.
“Don’t,” I warn, but I don’t move.
Her hand lifts, hesitating in the air between us before it finally rests on my chest. Light, tentative, testing. I should stop her, but I don’t.
The world narrows to that single point of contact — her hand, warm through my shirt, pulse quick beneath her skin.
“I’mnotscared of you,” she whispers. “Even though, I know it was you who killed Owen.”
The look she gives me freezes the blood in my veins. I don’t know how she found out about that, and from the looks of it she wants to gut me like a fish. I know she’s lying, at least about being scared. But the bravery in her lie burns anyway.
“Did he suffer?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly.
“No,” I answer, giving her that small kindness. I wasn’t cruel. I catch her wrist before it can move higher. She looks up, and it’s a mistake — because her eyes are a storm I’ve been trying not to drown in. “You should be afraid of me,” I say, but it sounds like a plea. “Of what I'm capable of.”
Her breath brushes my chin. “Then make me.”
That’s the moment I break. I pull her against me before I can think better of it, my mouth finding hers before reason can stop it. It’s rough at first — a collision, not a kiss. Her fingers twist in my shirt, dragging me closer, demanding more.
The taste of her is chaos — heat, defiance, salt from a tear I don’t think she meant to shed. When I finally tear away, we’re both breathing hard, her hand still clutching my collar like she’s not ready to let go. “Don’t,” I manage. “Don’t do that again.”
She swallows. “You kissed me.”
“Yeah,” I say, voice hoarse. “And I shouldn’t have.”
She steps back slowly, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “Then maybe next time, don’t look at me like you’re starving and I’m your only key to salvation.”
Then she’s gone, the door shutting quietly behind her. I stand there for a long time, staring at the empty space she left behind, the scent of her still clinging to the air.
I drag a hand over my face and mutter, “Fuck.”
Because Rook was right. She’s under my fucking skin.
And I’m already bleeding for it.
Chapter 20
Ember
My back hits the door the second it closes behind me.
I don’t breathe.
Can’t.
The air still tastes like him — smoke, leather, heat.
What the hell did I just do? I just kissed my brother’s killer. And the most fucked up part? Ilikedit.
