Page 182 of Ashborne: Defiance

It was time to release her and disappear. To find my strength once more. I’d been weakened by watching her in danger today. But now—

Grace’s eyes dropped to my lips and a jolt of thrill leaped in my belly. It was so potent, my cock thickened.

My breath rushed from me like I’d been punched.

When she opened her mouth and her full lips moved against my palm, I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned, cursing. But though I’d intended to pull away, to let the chill night air cool her skin and my ardor, somehow, I didn’t.

I stood, toe-to-toe with her, eyes locked, both our chests rising and falling—too fast, too deep.

“Why? Why can’t I stop wishing for you?” she whispered, and the tremulous question almost undid me—a few small words, pregnant with fear, and hope, and wonder.

I clenched both hands at my sides. I would not touch her again.

But the V of consternation appeared between her brows and her gaze darkened. She didn’t move away.

Her throat—that delicate arch of vulnerability—jumped as she swallowed and her chin rose, but her gaze never left mine.

“Voski…” she breathed. Hunger and joy rushed through my veins, prickling under my skin and sending my pulse sky high. The sound of my name on her tongue ran second only to the moment Kham had Chosen me. How the hell did she—

“What are you doing?” Her voice cracked.

Those massive, penetrating, beautiful eyes welled, the light behind me gleaming on unshed tears seeping toward her lashes.

Comfort her. She needs you. She needs to be sure of you. She belongs to you. Comfort her.

The urge was so strong, so undeniable, I swayed forward, forced to flatten a palm on the wall over her shoulder so I didn’t crush her against the brick.

Our noses barely brushed, but her breath was suddenly hot on my lips, mine washing over hers. Every prickle of sensation within me, poured to the surface of my skin, seeking even a hint of her warmth, her softness, her touch.

A tiny, tortured groan eked out of my throat and I shuddered, swaying closer until it seemed I must taste her.

“Voski…” The movement of her lips brushed them against mine, her whispering breath raised goosebumps on my neck in a sweet promise of what was to come if I only bridged that last, infinitesimal gap. Yet, as I swallowed my pride and prepared to give in—to take her mouth, finally—that cold, certain voice rose in my head.

She’ll strip you of your discipline.

Steal your control.

Make you weak once more.

And then you’ll destroy her, just like—

Grace swallowed again and pressed up on her toes to kiss me. But that soft, sweet slide blistered.

With a strangled curse, I threw myself away from her, boots slapping on the slick cobblestones because panic drove me so I couldn’t even attempt silence.

63. I’ll Watch for You

~ VOSKI ~

Goldfinger. They called me Goldfinger, because they thought everything I touched turned to gold. But they didn’t know. They had no clue.

Endless planning. Endless analysis. Constant self-doubt. Every decision questioned, pressed down, shaken, distilled, and scrutinized. Even the split-second decisions, taken out and examined later.

The world was a dark and painful place. And those who intend ill always appeared the very moment you stopped watching for them.

I was paces away from her. Mere steps. Head shrieking. Heart burning. Soul on fire.

I had taken my eyes off the world because she was there and she was right—we were the same. We both disappeared in the dark.