8. Ember
Chapter 8
Ember
Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room and illuminating gentle dust particles floating lazily through the air.
I’m cocooned in the softness of my bed, Edward’s arms encircling me, his warmth anchoring me. It’s almost Christmas; the air is charged with that undeniable magic that comes only once a year, wrapping everything in an aura of hope.
I stretch slightly, careful not to wake him, savoring the safety of Edward’s steady embrace. I grin. Last night was… glorious. No other word for it.
Edward woke me for two more rounds during the night. The first two on the kitchen table blended together a bit. The last two were slower. He was thorough. With his hands. With his mouth.
God, how I adore him, my rough man. He’s big, bearded, and beautiful. His body thick and strong, his stomach a warm, solid curve that fits against me perfectly. A testament to his love of hearty meals and the life he’s built with his own two hands. I’ve fallen in love with every inch of him, from the broad expanse of his chest to the soft resilience of his middle—comforting, real, and utterly Edward.
My gaze wanders to the window. Outside, the world is hushed, blanketed in fresh snow that glistens under the first rays of the morning sun, casting a serene, almost ethereal glow. Edward’s embrace brings a sense of peace—a silent promise of safety that he’s draped over this place, over me. A silent statement: this woman and this house are protected. And it seems to have worked because the Demons MC hasn’t dared to come near.
A contented smile plays on my lips as I think back to last night. Fear gnawed at me at the thought of Edward and me becoming something more, fear that our pasts were too different, that the weight we each carried would be too much for anything solid to grow between us. But grow it has. Because I trust him.
Trust is the soil, and love is the bloom.
I remember Gran’s saying. She read it in a romance book, and it stuck with her. It’s so true. Trust is huge for me, and I trust no one more than Edward.
And when we surrendered to the pull between us… oh, the sparks that flew could’ve lit the darkest night sky. Fireworks, indeed—a kind of brilliance I didn’t expect, something that ignited so naturally between us.
I turn my head to look at him, his features softened in sleep, the lines on his face gentle now, as if all the burdens he carries have momentarily faded. An overwhelming tenderness washes over me. His thick beard adds to his ruggedness, a reminder of the strength and resilience he carries. Yet it contrasts the gentle way he holds me, as if I’m something precious he’s afraid to lose. This man, who came into my life like a storm, is now my safe harbor, the place I can finally lower my guard.
“Morning,” Edward murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
His eyes haven’t opened yet, but a hint of a smile pulls at his full lips. My heartbeat skitters as he instinctively tightens his hold around me, sensing my movements, always so attuned to me.
“Morning,” I whisper, afraid to break the spell of this quiet moment. “It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Best present ever,” he mumbles, his eyes opening to meet mine, a twinkle in their gray depths that makes my lower stomach heat.
They’re clear, regarding me with a reassurance that we’re in this together. No need for further words because we understand each other perfectly. We’ve both fought battles, separately and together, and here we are, basking in a hard-earned moment of tranquility.
The worries that once seemed so big, so insurmountable, shrink in the face of what we’ve found together. Love wasn’t part of my plan when I came to this small town, running from my old life and everything I wanted to leave behind. Neither was Edward. But sometimes, the most unexpected gifts are those that save us, the ones that remind us we’re stronger than the shadows we try to outrun.
“Let’s stay like this for a bit longer,” I suggest, barely daring to breathe as he tightens his hold, his silent agreement wrapping around me like a shield.
Outside, the world continues, snow falling softly, a perfect stillness. But inside, we’ve carved out a space where we can breathe without fear. Two people, connected by something stronger than circumstance, sharing in the quiet joy of a Christmas Eve morning, twined together as if nothing else matters.
I must fall asleep again because the rich aroma of coffee lures me from erotic dreams of Edward’s mouth and tongue on my body. I push myself upright as he strides into the bedroom. His presence is a jolt of energy, a living spark against the chill of the morning.
In one swift motion, he sweeps me into his arms. His lips find mine with a hunger that reignites the embers of last night’s fire. My toes curl as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming with a familiar boldness that sets my heart pounding and sends shivers skating across my skin.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Morning,” I reply, breathless, stroking his thick beard.
His heat seeps through the sheet, his hands gliding, promising a sweet distraction that I’m tempted to give into. But reality tugs at me with the reminder of the day’s duties.
Reluctantly, I pull back, my heart still racing from his touch. “Edward, we have to get up,” I say, even though every fiber of my being screams at me to stay right where I am, wrapped in his warmth. “It’s Christmas Eve. We have so much to do.”
He frowns, but it quickly melts into a genuine smile that steals my breath. Good lord, the man is irresistible at the best of times, but when he smiles…
“Okay. But later, you’re all mine,” he says, his words a silent promise of more to come.
I grin. “Later. Now, go check your cows.”
The evening descends with a hush, snowflakes dusting the windowpanes. Edward cooks dinner, his movements confident and efficient as he navigates the kitchen. His broad shoulders fill the small space, and I can’t help but admire the ease with which he flips the steaks, his hands steady and sure.
“Smells amazing,” I murmur, inhaling deeply.
He glances over his shoulder, his lips twitching into a genuine smile. “Only the best for you,” he replies as if cooking me dinner is the most natural thing in the world.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, fiddling with a small pair of scissors as I attempt to curl Christmas ribbons for the tree. One by one, the ribbons twist into chaotic spirals, their edges uneven and frayed. They look more like colorful disasters than festive decorations.
“What do you think?” I ask, holding up one of the lopsided creations. I bite my lip, trying to decide if it’s even worth putting on the tree.
Edward glances over, his expression softening as he sees the mess in my hands. “They’re… perfect,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes.
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me.”
“This place wouldn’t feel like Christmas without you and your... creativity.” He grins as he plates the steaks and sets them on the table. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Perfect timing,” I reply, setting the mangled ribbon aside and popping the scissors in my pocket.
Dinner passes in a quiet rhythm of conversation and soft laughter. Edward tells me about how the frost has delayed some of the winter prep on the farm, how his helper, Nate, injured his hand last week but still insisted on hauling feed. I love that his life is steady, rooted, and real in a way I’ve never known.
Later, curled up on the couch under a blanket, we settle in to watch a Christmas movie. The TV screen flickers, casting a cozy glow over the room. Edward’s arm rests along the back of the couch, his fingers combing through my hair as if he can’t bear not to touch me in some way.
“I don’t need anything for Christmas,” he murmurs suddenly, his voice low and rough with emotion. His head tilts toward me, his gaze steady but vulnerable. “I have you, and that’s all I want.”
My chest tightens as a wave of emotion threatens to spill over. “You’re all I want too,” I say softly, turning to meet his eyes. “All I need.”
For a moment, the world outside seems far away, nothing but a distant hum. The glow of the Christmas lights, the soft murmur of the TV, and Edward’s steady presence create a sanctuary I never want to leave.
Then, the world shatters.
The door slams open with a deafening crack, wood splintering under the force of a heavy boot. I jolt upright, my heart pounding as the warm safety of the moment dissolves into chaos.
“Edward!” I gasp, gripping his arm as two figures storm into the room.
Razor leads the charge, his wiry frame cloaked in a leather jacket, a predatory grin curling his lips. Behind him is a larger man, broad and menacing, his eyes scanning the room with cold calculation.
“Evening, Eddie,” Razor drawls, his voice sharp and mocking. He raises a hand in a mock salute, the glint of a gun catching the light.“Hope we’re not interrupting.”
“Get behind me,” Edward murmurs, his voice low and firm. He shifts, positioning himself between me and the intruders.
“What do you want, Razor?” Edward demands, his tone steady despite the tension rolling off him.
Razor chuckles, the sound jagged and grating. “What do I want? You already know the answer to that, Eddie. See, my girl wants you gone. Clean slate and all that. I told her you’d see sense eventually. Turns out, you’re more stubborn than I gave you credit for.”
Edward moves forward, his broad frame blocking Razor from taking another step into the room. “I’m not leaving,” he says evenly, his voice calm but firm. “Rebecca made her choice. Now she gets to live with it.”
“That so?” Razor asks, cocking his head. “See, that’s where we have a problem. You don’t belong here anymore, Eddie. And if you’re not smart enough to leave on your own, maybe I’ll help you along.”
“You think this little stunt is going to scare me off?” Edward’s voice hardens, a sharp edge creeping in. “You’re wasting your fucking time.”
The larger man steps forward, his gaze shifting to me. “Maybe we focus on what Eddie’s got to lose.”
“Don’t,” Edward growls, his stance shifting slightly, his hands curling into fists. The air in the room crackles with tension, a standoff poised to erupt. “Leave her out of this. It has nothing to do with her.”
“Everything you care about has to do with this,” Razor snaps. “And that makes her fair game.”
The larger man moves closer, his movements slow and deliberate, a clear show of force.
Edward tenses. Controlled energy radiates from him, a silent promise of protection. “Let her leave. This is between us.”
Razor’s grin widens. “Oh, I don’t think so. Your little girlfriend here? She’s part of the problem now. You dragged her into this, Eddie, and now she’s gotta face the consequences.”
“Razor,” Edward says, his tone hardening, “don’t do this.”
But Razor isn’t listening. He lifts the gun slightly, a pointed gesture that sends a cold spike of fear through me. “You should’ve left while you could, Eddie. Now, we’ve got ourselves a situation.”
Before I can react, the larger man grabs my arm in a bruising grip. I cry out, struggling against him, but his strength is overwhelming.
“Take your fucking hands off her!” Edward’s shout rings out, his voice raw with anger. He lunges toward me, but Razor raises the gun, stopping him in his tracks.
“Easy, Eddie,” he says, his tone light but laced with menace. “You don’t want her getting hurt, do you?”
Edward freezes, his eyes locked on me.
I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. “Edward?—”
“Quiet,” the larger man barks, his grip tightening as he drags me toward the door.
“Razor, don’t do this,” Edward says again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. I see the desperation in his eyes, the helpless fury of a man pushed too far.
Razor smirks, his finger twitching on the trigger. “Too late for second chances, Eddie.”
I’m hauled outside into the biting cold, swallowed by the night, forced from the warmth of the house and the safety of Edward’s arms.