Chapter Twelve
THE AIR OUTSIDE felt different.
Warmth slid over my skin, sunlight soaking into me in a way I had dreamed about while being held by Venom. Ashen led me out the clubhouse door. The noise of the kitchen faded behind us, replaced by the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves high in the trees.
I blinked against the brightness. It was almost too much, too blinding after so long in shadows. But I didn’t turn away. I lifted my face toward it, let the heat brush across my cheeks, let myself breathe deep.
Ashen walked beside me, silent. Not crowding, not rushing. Just there. He didn’t ask if I wanted to come outside. He hadn’t needed to. Somehow, he’d known.
My hands twisted in the fabric of the dress. Words pressed at the back of my throat, raw and restless. Thank you. Just two simple words. They burned like fire, clawed like they might rip free if I let them.
But fear shoved them back down.
If I spoke again, if I proved last night wasn’t an accident, it would be real. And once it was real, I couldn’t take it back. Silence had been my shield, my one line of defense, and letting it go felt like stepping bare into open air.
Ashen slowed his steps, glancing sideways at me. The sun caught in his hair, gleamed against the dark ink on his arms. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he said, his eyes taking in the small smile on my face.
I swallowed hard, throat aching. The words trembled against my lips, desperate to answer. Yes.
Instead, I nodded. Small. Careful.
His mouth curved, not a smile exactly, but close. A flicker of something softer than I’d ever seen in him. “Thought so,” he murmured.
We walked on, gravel crunching under our feet, the quiet between us not heavy this time but… something else. Safer. Easier.
Still, the war inside me raged. The part of me that wanted to speak, wanted to trust him with my voice, fought with the part that clung to silence like it was survival.
My lips parted once, almost, before I snapped them shut again, my heart hammering in my chest. Venom didn’t work alone, danger still lurked in the shadows.
Ashen didn’t push. He never did. He just stayed beside me, steady as the sunlight, as if he had all the time in the world to wait.
I found myself wishing I had the courage to give him more.
The sunlight felt so wonderfully warm. It made me restless, like the warmth was coaxing me to reach for something I hadn’t touched in years.
My eyes caught on the line of bikes parked near the clubhouse. Chrome and black steel gleaming in the sun, wild freedom wrapped in metal and speed.
Ashen’s bike stood out. Big, dark, powerful.
I stopped. My breath caught, chest tight.
The memory hit sharp—Venom’s grip on my arm, the press of his body as he shoved me onto the back of his bike, the roar of the engine drowning out my screams.
But alongside the terror came something else. A pull. A yearning. The thought of wind tearing through my hair, of speed carrying me away, of freedom pressing against my skin. But this time it would come with safety.
My throat worked. I looked at Ashen.
The words scraped at the back of my mouth. Can I ride with you? They pushed and clawed, desperate to break free. My lips parted. A breath caught—half-formed sound—then died.
Nothing came.
My chest ached with the failure, shame burning hot in my veins. I dropped my gaze, fists clenching.
But Ashen had already read me.
When I dared to glance up, his eyes were on mine, knowing. He didn’t make me say it. He just nodded once, like we’d spoken without words, and pulled the keys from his pocket.
“Come on,” he said, his voice rough but sure. “You need this.”
The bike roared to life beneath his hands, deep and powerful. He swung a leg over the seat, then held out a helmet toward me. Not a command. Not a question. Just waiting.
My pulse raced. Fear and need tangled so tight I couldn’t tell one from the other. But my hands moved before I could stop them, taking the helmet, fitting it over my head.
When I climbed onto the seat behind him, my whole body trembled. His back was solid, the heat of him bleeding through leather, his scent wrapping around me again. I hesitated, then slowly, carefully, let my arms slide around his waist.
The engine growled. The ground shook.
And when we pulled out onto the open road, wind slammed against me, wild, biting, alive. My dress snapped around my legs, my hair whipped free, and for the first time in so damn long, I felt something crack open inside me.
Not fear. Not shame.
Freedom.
And it terrified me how much I wanted it to last, and knowing it never could.
The bike roared beneath us, the vibration shivering up through my legs and chest until I could hardly tell where fear ended and exhilaration began.
The wind hit hard, tearing at my hair, flattening the thin cotton of my dress against my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, clinging to Ashen’s waist.
Not Venom.
That thought hammered through me. This wasn’t Venom. His grip wasn’t on me. His voice wasn’t in my ear.
Ashen was solid under my hands, steady as stone. He didn’t yank the bike forward like a weapon to scare me; he guided it, smooth and sure, the rumble of the engine a heartbeat I could lean into.
I let the wind push against me, let it scrape the past off piece by piece. My lungs opened wider, air filling me until I thought I might burst.
It was wide. It was endless.
And it was mine.
The word fought in my throat—thank you—but it stuck fast, heavy and unmovable. I pressed my forehead lightly against his back instead, hoping he’d somehow feel what I couldn’t say.