Chapter 11 #3
"You scared me so much," I whisper, and I'm still crying.
Still shaking. Still completely undone and exposed and vulnerable in a way that should terrify me but doesn't. Not right now.
Right now, I just need him to know how much I felt his absence.
How much his danger affected me. How much he's come to mean.
"I know," he says again, and his voice is so soft and so full of something that my heart can't handle it. "I know, sweetheart."
And then he's kissing me.
It tastes like smoke and ash and relief and something fierce and desperate that suggests he's just as affected by all of this as I am.
His hands frame my face, holding me in place like I might run away if he doesn't keep me close.
His mouth moves against mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
Which is ironic given that he literally just came out of a burning building and probably shouldn't be exerting himself.
I respond like I can somehow pull him deeper into safety. Like I can anchor him here through sheer force of will. My fingers clutch at his turnout coat, finding purchase in the rough fabric, holding on like he might disappear if I let go.
His tongue sweeps against my bottom lip, and I open for him immediately.
The contact shifts from desperate to claiming.
One of his hands slides from my face to the back of my neck, angling my head so he can deepen things.
His other hand drops to my waist, pulling me flush against him despite the bulky gear creating a barrier between us.
I can feel his heart pounding through all those layers. Beating hard and fast and alive. So incredibly alive.
My hands move up to his face, cupping his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble against my palms. He tastes like danger survived. Like promises made and kept. Like coming home after thinking you never would.
His fingers thread through my hair, loosening whatever is left of my professional bun. I don't care. I press closer, trying to eliminate every inch of space between us. Trying to convince myself he's real and solid and not going to vanish back into the smoke and flames.
A sound escapes me. Something between a whimper and a sob. Relief and fear and overwhelming emotion all tangled together in a way I can't separate.
Cassian responds by gentling his approach. His mouth still moving against mine but slower now. Softer. Like he's trying to comfort me even though he's the one who just walked out of a burning building. His thumb strokes along my jawline in small, soothing circles.
When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard. His hands are still on my face, smudging ash across my skin. His gray eyes are dark and intense and completely focused on me like I'm the most important thing he's ever seen.
"I wasn't going to die," he says softly. His voice is still rough from the smoke, but it's steady. Certain. "Not when I've got something worth living for."
Behind us, Jett is pretending to look at something very interesting happening by the fire trucks.
The captain of Cassian's crew is also suddenly very focused on the radio.
The neighbors watching from their yards are definitely getting an eyeful of what is clearly a very personal moment happening in the middle of Maple Street in front of multiple emergency vehicles and professional firefighters.
I don't care. Not even a little bit.
"Don't do that again," I say against his mouth, because he's still close enough to kiss, and I might do it again if he keeps looking at me like that. Like I'm worth coming home for.
"Can't promise that," Cassian says, and he's smiling now. Actually smiling. The kind of smile that reaches his eyes and makes them look less cold and more like they're reflecting something warm. "Fire happens. I respond. That's the job. You know that."
"Then I'm coming with you next time," I say, and I realize it sounds like I'm joking, but I'm only half kidding. I'm entirely serious. I'm saying that I'd rather be close to the danger with him than be separated from him with worry eating me alive.
"Not a chance," he says, his voice firm but affectionate. "But I like knowing you care."
"I care," I say, and the words feel small compared to the enormity of what I'm feeling. "I care so much it terrifies me."
He leans in and kisses me again, softer this time but no less intense.
When he pulls away, I'm dizzy and soot-covered and completely, absolutely certain that I'm falling for this man in a way that might destroy me if something ever actually goes wrong.
But right now, in this moment, with him alive and holding me and kissing me in front of his entire crew and the entire neighborhood, that seems like a risk worth taking.
"Come on," he says, taking my hand. His fingers intertwine with mine, and I can feel the soot transferring to my skin, but I don't care. I like having his marks on me. I like feeling like I belong to someone. "Let me finish up here, and then I'm taking you home. We need to get you cleaned up."
"Okay," I say, and I let him lead me back toward the fire trucks, my hand in his, my heart still racing but for entirely different reasons now.
Jett catches my eye as we pass him, and there's something knowing in his warm brown gaze.
Something that suggests he knew exactly what was going to happen when he called me out here.
That he knew I needed to see Cassian alive.
That he knew something in me would crack open if I didn't get confirmation that he made it through.
And maybe that makes Jett smarter than I am.
Because I'm only now fully realizing, standing here covered in soot and tears and completely undone, that losing Cassian would have broken something in me that I'm not sure could ever be repaired. That he's not just an attraction or a passing connection. That he's become essential.
That I'm in love with him.
Thank you, universe, for scaring the absolute hell out of me and then putting me back together again. I can't remember the last time an alpha made me feel like this. Whole. Safe. Cherished. But I like it. No. I love it.