Chapter 24
Aurelia
FLASHBACK
Six years ago
My chest tightens in anticipation, adrenaline mixing with the thrill of doing something utterly reckless. He gestures toward the sleek, black motorcycle, polished chrome gleaming faintly under the streetlights, like a predator waiting.
“You can get on,” he commands with a subtle edge of authority I can’t help but respond to.
Still, I push past my initial reaction, slip my hand out of his, and cross my arms as I hold my position near the building.
“I don’t even know your name,” I counter, though it comes out breathier than I mean it to.
His mouth curves like he’s amused. “Does it matter?”
It shouldn’t. But somehow, it does.
He steps close enough for me to see the way his eyes catch the light—stormy and intent. “You trust me,” he states.
I open my mouth to deny it, but my pulse betrays me and I think he can hear it.
He slides the helmet toward me, the motion unhurried. “Here.”
I take it, because I guess I decided to be insane today.
When our fingers touch, a spark shoots through my hand and straight down my spine.
“Someone should tell me not to do this,” I whisper, almost hoping he won’t hear it.
But he must, because he steps closer, leaning in and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his breath warm against my temple.
“If you need someone to tell you what to do, you’ll keep getting pushed over. And that pretty little body you pretend isn’t begging for attention? No one’s going to touch it.” His bottom lip drags along my jaw, sending a tremor through me. “Not in the way you want.”
I stop breathing.
He did not just say that.
I can’t even think to respond; I just stand there, eyes locked on him, probably looking like a deer in headlights as he moves back and fits the helmet over my head.
His hands linger against my skin longer than they need to—like he already knows exactly what he’s doing to me—his fingers grazing the spot his lips marked before he pulls away, waiting for me to say something.
“What do I hold onto?” I ask, trying to sound steady.
His eyes flick down my dress and back up, something dark flickering in them before his voice drops low. “Me.”
He swings his leg over the bike and settles in with effortless control. When he looks back, I’m already stepping forward—like gravity decided for me.
He catches my hand, rough skin brushing mine, and guides it around his waist until my chest presses lightly to his back. “Good.”
My heart is hammering. I’ve never done anything like this—never felt this much freedom, this much risk. But there’s something in how he looks at me that makes me undeniably at his will. “Hold on tight. Don’t let go.”
The engine roars to life beneath me, vibrating through my body. My grip tightens instinctively around him, my fingers tensing before they clench at the dark fabric that apparently is just there to outline his muscles.
Maybe I wouldn’t be this stupid if this shadow boy wasn’t so hot.
The wind tears at my hair as soon as we start moving, biting at my skin.
The city lights streak past in blurred neon lines. My pulse races, my stomach flips, and yet… I can’t help but laugh, even muffled by the helmet, it’s pure exhilaration.
I glance down at his back, the curve of his body beneath the leather jacket, and there’s something achingly intimate in how close we are. My fingers tighten around him, and I realize I don’t want this moment to end.
“Does it scare you?” he calls out, voice carried on the wind.
“A little,” I yell back. “But it’s—God, it’s amazing!”
He chuckles, a sound I feel more than hear. “That’s what life feels like when you stop running from it.”
The words stick in my chest. I don’t even know what he means, but somehow, I do.
The street stretches endlessly, the hum of the engine steady beneath me, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face under the mask. For the first time, maybe ever, I feel like I’m truly living—not just surviving.
Fifteen minutes pass in a blur of lights, wind, and heartbeat, and by the time we finally slow to a stop, I feel lighter. The city is quiet around us, and when I lift my visor, breathing in deeply, the night tastes sweeter than anything I’ve known.
He turns to face me, his visor flipped up as well. “I’ll drive slower along the coast,” he says, voice low. “Then I’ll take you back.”
There’s a pause—the kind that hangs heavy, full of choices I’m not brave enough to make.
He’s waiting for me to say yes, take me back.
I should. I know I should. Enzo, Elijah, and Gen are probably looking for me.
But my heart is still in my throat, and for the first time in my life, I don’t want to be the good girl who does what she’s told.
“I’m not ready to go back,” I whisper.
He exhales a quiet laugh. “Didn’t think you would be.”
And when my hands find his torso again, it doesn’t feel reckless anymore.
It feels inevitable.
* * *
We slow to a stop at a dark cliff overlooking Vostralya. I feel my hands begin to sweat as I’m reminded that I don’t know his name, I don’t even know what he looks like. And I’m not going to, it’s dark, and the only light disappears when he turns his bike off.
He holds out a hand, and even though I’m enthralled by the gorgeous scenery we spent the last ten minutes driving by, I can’t ignore how vulnerable I am in this moment. I keep my hands to my lap, my eyes locked on his, filled with nothing but fear.
“I… I…”
He pulls off his helmet. “I can’t see you either, Aurelia.”
Neither of us moves. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it back in that alley.”
I take a deep breath, realizing he’s right, and take his hand as I step off the bike.
Thank God he can’t see me—I’m pretty sure I’ve been flashing him my thong all night. I tug my dress down, and when I go to pull off my helmet, his hands slide over mine and lift it away for me.
Even without sight, I feel nothing but connection in the simplest movements.
And for the first time, I realize I haven’t thought of Elijah since being with him.
I’m not thinking of his face, his body, or his mind.
Instead, I’m thinking of the shadow boy in front of me, of my safety and why I don’t feel in danger when I should.
“You shouldn’t be out here with me,” he says finally.
Oh.
Well there goes that safety thing I was just feeling.
“I… I thought you said I was safe?” I whisper, pulling at the hem of my dress.
I know I can’t see it but I think he’s smiling when he mutters, “You are safe.” Then after a moment of silence, “But you’re too young. Too soft. Too… good.”
“Good?” I echo, teasing lightly. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he says, raising his hand to my face, tucking a strand behind my ear. “You still think people mean what they say. That’s rare, and something only a good girl would do.”
I cross my arms. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not. It just doesn’t last.”
The words almost offend me, but the heat of his body makes me fold into him. “Maybe it can,” I offer quietly. “If you let it.”
He turns toward the ocean, the wind tugging at his dark hair. “You talk like someone who’s never been disappointed.”
I swallow. “And you talk like someone who has.” Then almost immediately remembering what happened I counter. “Oh! Also, my new and first friend was just making out with the boy I’ve been in love with for two years. So I think it’s fair to say I’ve been disappointed.”
That earns me a real smile—I can see it in his eyes as he turns back to me.
“You’re cute.”
He declares it in a way that makes it impossible for me to argue against.
So instead, I whisper, “You didn’t tell me your name.”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me,” I say, relaxing my arms now.
“Can I ask you a question first?”
I nod, unsure what he could possibly want to know.
He takes a step, closing the space between us. “Have you really never kissed anyone before?”
He questions it with a hunger I’ve never felt before, and heat rushes to my cheeks.