Chapter 6 – Sylvara
The rooftop looks like a junkyard. Wires twist in messy knots, rusted satellite dishes tilt at odd angles, and vents rattle when the wind kicks up. Vegas pulses below, neon lights smearing the sky, drowning out the stars.
I lean against the railing. My fingers grip the rough, flaking metal. I scan East Fremont, searching the grid of buildings for something to click into place.
Kieran stands beside me. Close enough to feel, but not touching. He’s all edges and quiet heat, holding himself steady.
We just tracked one of Rizzi’s couriers. A greasy guy with a limp, dragging a suitcase stuffed with secrets. We tailed him to a backroom poker den, watched him slide an envelope to a man with Veyra tattoos and a short fuse.
More filth. More threads tying back to Rizzi. I’ve got the proof I need.
“We have enough,” I say, voice cutting through the hum. “Drop the ledger. Leak the files. Force their hand.”
He doesn’t respond right away. His eyes stay on the horizon, where clouds churn over the skyline. Thunder rumbles west of the Strip, low and restless.
“You leak that file,” he says at last, “they’ll bury us before the ink dries.” His tone is even, but there’s steel in it.
“Let them try.” I turn my head, meeting his gaze. “I’ve faced worse.”
“You think I’m afraid?” He doesn’t flinch, just watches me. His face stays hard.
“I think you’re hiding behind patience.” I step closer, my boots scuffing the gritty rooftop. “Waiting for the perfect shot when messy works just fine.”
He turns fully now, facing me. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t speak. I feel the tension coil in him, ready to snap.
“You think I’m reckless?” I press, closing the gap. “I’ve outlasted everyone who bet against me by being loud enough to scare the dead.”
The wind surges, sharp and cool. It drags the first drops of rain with it. They hit the rooftop, tiny pricks hissing against the metal.
“This isn’t just your war,” he says, voice dropping. “You don’t get to burn it down just because you want to see the flames.”
“And you don’t get to tell me who I am.” I step into his space, heat rising. “Not because you carry guilt like it’s your damn crown.”
He grabs my arm as I turn to leave. His grip isn’t hard, just firm enough to hold me there. My pulse jumps under his fingers.
I spin back, fast. My hands hit his chest, shoving him hard. He stumbles a step, eyes flashing.
And then we’re kissing.
His mouth slams into mine, fierce and raw. The storm breaks behind us, thunder cracking loud. Rain streaks down his face, or maybe it’s mine.
I don’t know. I don’t care. His lips taste like fury, sharp and bitter, matching mine.
My hands fist in his jacket, pulling him closer. His fingers dig into my hips, anchoring me against him. The rain soaks through my shirt, cold against my skin.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not here, not now. But the anger between us ignites, electric and unstoppable.
I bite his lip, tasting the rain and him. He groans, low and rough, pressing me back against the railing. The metal bites into my spine, but I barely feel it.
All I feel is him. His heat cuts through the chill, his breath ragged against my mouth. My nails scrape his neck, urging him on.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes burn, dark and wild. Rain clings to his lashes, dripping down his cheek.
I don’t wait. I drag him back, kissing him harder. The storm swallows the city noise, leaving just us.
His hands slide up my sides, rough and sure. My heart pounds, loud in my ears. I want more, need more.
The fight, Rizzi, the files—it all blurs out. There’s only this, the clash of us, raw and alive. I tilt my head, deepening it, tasting the edge of him.
He matches me, unrelenting. His grip tightens, pulling me flush against him. Rain runs down my neck, mixing with the heat of his mouth.
I wasn’t ready for this. But now that it’s here, I can’t stop.
His hands dive into my hair, fingers twisting tight against my scalp. He hesitates for a split second, a crack in his control. I feel it—the way he holds back, then gives in. His lips press harder, hungry, and I match him, biting down just enough to taste him.
My back slams against the rooftop wall. The rough concrete scratches through my shirt, but I don’t care. His body pins me there, solid and unyielding, his breath hot against my face.
The rage in the kiss shifts. It turns molten, less about anger and more about need. His tongue brushes mine, and a jolt rips through me, sharp and electric. I tilt my head, deepening it, chasing that heat.
His forehead presses to mine, slick with rain. Our breaths tangle, fast and uneven. His hands slide down from my hair, grazing my neck, then settling on my shoulders.
I feel him everywhere—his chest rising against mine. My hands move too, sliding under his jacket, finding the damp fabric of his shirt clinging to his skin.
He groans, low and rough, as my fingers trace the lines of his ribs. The sound vibrates through me, stoking the fire already burning in my gut. I press closer, needing more.
His lips leave mine, trailing along my jaw. I gasp, head tipping back against the wall. Rain runs down my throat, mixing with the warmth of his mouth as he kisses lower, grazing my collarbone.
My hands roam higher, slipping under his shirt now. His skin is hot, slick from the storm, and I drag my nails lightly across his back. He shudders, pressing himself tighter against me.
I catch his mouth again, kissing him deep and messy. His hands move too, cupping my face first, then dropping to my waist. He pulls me in, fingers digging into my hips.
His hands slide up my sides, slow and deliberate. They brush the edges of my shirt, then slip underneath. His fingers find my skin, rough against the softness there, and I arch into his touch.
He kisses me again, softer this time, but it’s still raw. His thumbs skim the curve under my chest, teasing the edge of my bra. My breath hitches, loud in the storm.
I grab his wrists, guiding his hands higher. He doesn’t resist. His fingers slide under the fabric, brushing my nipples, and a sharp spark shoots through me, hot and sudden.
I moan into his mouth, low and needy. He takes it as permission, rolling his thumbs over the sensitive peaks. The sensation hits hard, pooling heat low in my belly.
My hands drop to his chest, then lower. I tug at his belt, fumbling with wet fingers. He tenses, but doesn’t stop me, his lips still moving against mine.
I slide my hand into his trousers, finding him hard and ready. He groans again, louder this time, as my fingers wrap around his cock. It’s warm, pulsing under my touch, and I stroke him once, testing.
His head drops to my shoulder, breath ragged against my neck. “Sylvara,” he rasps, voice thick with want. It sends a thrill through me, hearing my name like that.
His hands don’t stop either. One stays on my chest, playing with my nipple, pinching just enough to make me gasp. The other slides down, past my waist, dipping into my jeans.
His fingers brush me through the fabric first, teasing. I shift my hips, urging him on. He slips beneath, finding me wet, and a low sound escapes him, almost a growl.
He strokes me, slow at first, then firmer. My legs tremble, and I grip his shoulders to steady myself. The rain keeps falling, cold against the fire building inside me.
I kiss him again, desperate and sloppy. His tongue meets mine, matching the rhythm of his fingers. I rock against his hand, chasing the edge he’s pushing me toward.
My hand tightens on him, stroking faster. He bucks into my touch, his control slipping. We’re a mess of rain and heat, hands and mouths, lost in each other.
His fingers circle me, finding the spot that makes me shudder. I break the kiss, gasping, my head falling back. He watches me, eyes dark and locked on mine.
I feel it building, sharp and overwhelming. His touch is relentless, coaxing me closer.
He kisses my neck again, teeth grazing my skin. His hand on my chest pinches harder, and I whimper, the mix of pleasure and sting driving me wild.
I stroke him in time with his rhythm, feeling him throb under my fingers. His breath comes in short bursts, hot against my throat. We’re both close, teetering on the edge.
The storm roars around us, lightning flashing in the distance. It lights up his face, the rain streaking down his cheeks, the hunger in his eyes. I want him—all of him—right here.
But then it hits me. A flash of clarity cuts through the haze. This is too much, too fast.
I pull back, yanking my hand free. My chest heaves, lungs burning as I step away. He freezes, hands dropping, confusion flickering across his face.
“Sylvara?” His voice is rough, strained. He’s still breathing hard, rain dripping from his hair.
I shake my head, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “That didn’t happen,” I say, forcing the words out.
He stares at me, then lets out a shaky laugh. “Then why are we both shaking?”
I don’t answer. My lips still buzz, my skin alive where he touched me. I turn away, facing the railing.
The rain slows, a steady patter now. My jeans cling to my thighs, heavy and cold. I feel him behind me, close but not moving.
“I don’t need saving,” I say, staring at the city below. My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“Wasn’t trying to save you,” he replies, low and even. He steps beside me, not touching, just there.
I kissed him to shut him up. That’s the lie I’ll keep telling myself. But my body knows the truth, still humming from his hands.
We stand there, soaked and silent. The storm rolls on, thunder fading into the distance. Neither of us moves to close the gap again.
My armor’s cracked. His too. We’re raw, exposed in ways I didn’t plan. And it scares me more than Rizzi ever could.
I want him. That’s the danger. He sees me—the real me—and I can’t unfeel that.
Can I let him in and still keep my edge? I don’t know. My fingers tighten on the railing, rain slipping between them.
He doesn’t push. Just stands there, steady as the wall behind us. The air feels heavy, charged with what we didn’t finish.
I glance at him. His shirt sticks to his chest, outlining every line I touched. His eyes meet mine, and the pull is still there.
But I don’t move. The city hums below, oblivious to the fire we almost let loose.
One kiss. One mistake. And now the fire’s real.