Chapter Twenty-Three
THE FIRST THING I felt was heat.
Not burning. Just solid. Wrapping around me like it meant to stay.
Ashen’s chest pressed to my back, his arm heavy across my waist. His breathing was slow, even. I matched it without trying.
It started as a one-time thing. He’d sat up with me after a nightmare, then stretched out on the floor. Next time he stayed beside me. Then closer. Now this. His body curled around mine like a wall against the dark.
I never thought I’d let anyone hold me again. Not after Venom. Not after being taught to shrink until I disappeared. But here I was, tangled with Ashen in the quiet of the clubhouse. And it didn’t feel wrong. It felt… terrifyingly right.
I kept still, scared of waking him.
Asleep, he looked different. The hard edges of his face softened, the set of his jaw loose for once.
His lips parted just enough to catch the light.
Stubble shadowed his chin. A scar cut pale along his forehead.
I let my gaze wander down to the black lines inked over his arm.
Knots, marks, history I’d never ask him about.
More scars, too. Not ugly. Proof. He’d fought. Bled. Survived.
My fingers clenched the blanket. Memories slid in, sharp as splinters. For years I thought my body belonged only to fear. Venom made sure of it. Taught me to obey. To never want.
But something had cracked open.
Heat hummed low under my skin. The thought of his mouth near my shoulder, ridiculous, dangerous, lit me up inside. I hadn’t planned on wanting anything. But the body remembers, even when the mind tries to forget.
A flash of another time hit me. Seventeen.
Hood of a beat-up truck. Wind tugging my hair.
Justin’s laugh, his thumb brushing my cheek.
Gasoline and mint on his breath. His hands rough but careful.
Ordinary. Safe. I held onto it for a second.
Let it ache. It wasn’t panic. Just a reminder of what wanting used to feel like.
I shifted, barely. My back curved tighter into Ashen’s ribs. His arm tightened in sleep, hand flexing at my hip. The move felt huge, like a choice dressed up small. He adjusted around me. I didn’t flinch.
The wanting stayed. Fear braided into it, made my pulse trip fast. My head whispered danger, everything good costs. But under it, a stubborn voice rose. Maybe not everything ends in fire.
My hand twitched. Wanted to trace the ink on his arm. To test the scrape of stubble with my thumb. I held back. Pressed my palm flat to the sheet instead, grounding myself in the worn cotton.
Ashen made a sound in his sleep. Not words, just a low rumble. His hand tightened again at my side. Then—faint, slurred—my name.
“Wren.”
It split something inside me.
Suddenly I wasn’t thinking of cages or chains. I was thinking of small things. Sunburn by the river with a school friend. My mom showing me how to make cupcakes. My first movie date. Ordinary. Whole.
The pull toward him shifted. Less hunger, more language. Something I was just learning how to speak. Maybe mornings could come without dread. Maybe I could trace his scars like a map instead of a warning.
A door slammed somewhere in the clubhouse. Wind. The house settled. Light edged across the mattress. I turned into him, studying the rise and fall of his chest. My thumb moved before I could stop it. A brush against the thin scar at his wrist. Feather-light, but real.
My breath shook. For the first time in forever, I let myself picture a future that wasn’t only survival. A future where closeness didn’t equal pain.
And then the thought hit, hard and reckless.
I wanted to kiss him.
My heart kicked up. I hadn’t wanted something like that in years. Not since before Venom. Wanting had been ripped from me. Punished. But now… now it lived again, burning low in my stomach.
Before I could think, I shifted in his hold. My nose brushed his jaw. His breathing changed, sharp now. Awake.
“Ashen…” My voice rasped, rough from silence.
His eyes opened, locking on mine.
I froze. Then he leaned in—just a fraction closer. Warm breath fanned across my mouth.
I didn’t think. Didn’t plan. I closed the last inch myself.
The kiss was nothing like I remembered. Not rushed. Not forced. Just careful. His lips ready, waiting for me to decide.
My fists stayed tight in the blanket. But I didn’t pull away. I pressed in, just enough to fit my mouth to his.
And for that heartbeat, the world wasn’t fear.
It was him.