Chapter Thirty-Four
Max
Iwake up feeling like a new man—partially because I finally got into the pussy I’ve been craving for far too long, and partially because Ember’s cuddled into me. She’s cuddled into me. Willingly.
My heart fucking soars.
Her body is draped over my arm, head resting on my chest. One of her legs is tangled up in mine, and her arm is slung over my torso, almost possessively. Her features are peaceful, no hint of pain, fear, or stark dissociation in sight.
She looks so young. So fucking vulnerable. A fierce need to protect her for the rest of both of our lives rises up within me, almost crippling in its intensity. I stroke my fingers over her cheek, gently in hopes not to wake her, but of course, it doesn’t work.
She is, after all, an assassin. We’re notoriously light sleepers.
Her eyes flash open, but there’s no anger or fear in them. She looks dazed, adorably sleepy, and thoroughly exhausted. She blinks at me a few times, and her eyes flutter closed again. “Five more minutes.”
My smile is bright enough to rival the sun. She’s impossibly cute.
“Alright. Will you be a good girl and stay in bed while I get ready for the day? I’m gonna want to fuck you before I leave.”
Her eyes flash open, sharpening. No traces of sleep remain—she’s suddenly wide awake, and a hint of trepidation tightens my muscles.
“Say that again.”
I blink slowly. “About fucking you again? I thought it’d be obvious—”
“No. Good girl. Say that again.”
My eyebrows rise. “Has someone discovered a praise kink?” I take her chin in my hand. “You’re my best good girl.” I pause, then add on, “When you want to be.”
She stares at me, wide-eyed. “You’ve said that to me before.”
My heart skips a beat, then two. My hold on her chin tightens until she flinches, and I quickly release her, only to sit up and gather her in my arms. “What?”
“You’ve… said that to me before.” She sounds dazed. She touches a hand to her forehead, giving her head a shake. “On a porch. After we just…” she blinks, thinking. “After we kissed.” She gives me an accusing stare.
I gaze at her with open shock, mouth gaping so wide I’ll have to manually wire it shut. She remembers the kiss? The only kiss I ever got from her before my home life blew up, and then my parents died and she went missing?
“Ember, what do you remember?” I ask, a sense of urgency gripping me. Is spending time with me prompting her memories to return? Will they keep coming back? Is my woman going to remember our past, once and for all?”
“I…” she shakes her head again, blinking ten times in a row. “There was the taste of strawberry on my lips. I was…” she trails off, squinting. “Seventeen, I think. About to turn eighteen. And I kissed you.” She frowns. “Why did I kiss you?”
Maybe because you’d had a crush on me for years—something she later admitted to me when we were texting. Ember was never the sort of girl to voice her wants and needs, and to an extent, that hasn’t changed. She might be more brash and in-your-face, but she still keeps many things to herself.
“I dunno. A wild guess would be, you liked me?” I arch an eyebrow that silently says, duh.
“But… I don’t remember anything else.” She’s still frowning, a confounded look plastered on her face.
“Maybe last night jogged your memories?" I offer, though I’m not sure why it would’ve. I’ve done far more depraved shit to her without it prompting any memories… except her vaguely remembering our necklace.
“Your kiss was familiar.” She nods. “But I’m not sure if that was it. Maybe it’s my sleep schedule getting better?” her frown deepens into a scowl. “I need to go back to what it was before.”
That feels like a slap to my face. “What?”
“I can’t regress to who I was,” she says emphatically. “I might not know very much about that girl, but I do know that she was weak. I’m not weak anymore.”
“Baby, you were never weak. Shy, yes. Quiet, sometimes. But never, ever weak. You’ve always been one of the strongest people I know.” I hesitate. “And this version of you? You’ve lost some of your strengths at the price of gaining others.”
She glares at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that being this out-of-touch with your emotions is a weakness, not a strength.
There’s power in feelings.” Emotions may suck sometimes, they may get too overwhelming and horrific, but nevertheless, they serve as fuel when properly channeled.
For a long time, Ember had Alina’s safety as her fuel, but now, that well’s run empty.
What’s going to propel her forward in its stead?
“Emotions are a weakness,” she hisses. “They make you pause when running forward is the only way to survive. They put a damper on logic.”
“Logic doesn’t always win, Flame. Sometimes, listening to your gut is the best thing you can do.”
“I’m not listening to any more of this bullshit.” She flings the blanket off herself and stands, panting like an angry bull. It’s heartbreaking to see my Ember like this—holding fast to the wrong convictions—but I know she won’t listen to me right now, so I keep my lips sealed.
“Alright,” I say mildly.
“Alright,” she echoes harshly. “And no more sexual activities before you go to bed. They exhaust me.”
I hide a smile. “That’s the point, Flame. Your prior sleep schedule was going to kill you sooner rather than later. I’m not going to stop my efforts to correct it.”
Her nostrils flare. “Yes, you will.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Fine. Do whatever you want. It’s not going to work.”
“That a challenge, Flame?”
In response, she turns her back on me, storms into the bathroom, and slams the door behind her. I hear the sound of the shower turning on and release a sigh, staring at the ceiling for a beat. After a while, I grab my phone from the locked nightstand and start going through texts.
The most glaring one is from Cain, demanding Ember and I meet him in his office in an hour. That gives us enough time for breakfast.
I call up an order, not wanting to take Flame out with the guys when she’s this pissed off at me—even if her anger is unwarranted and ridiculous.
It feels like every step forward with her results in five or six steps back—she gets a memory, only to adamantly say she doesn’t want anymore.
We have mind-blowing, life-changing sex, only for her to turn her back on me.
When is there going to be forward movement? Real forward movement?
I try to remind myself that all of this is completely normal. That Flame should be fighting against me—I’d be more concerned if she were docile and agreeable, because that’d mean I’d either broken her, or she was planning something.
But, still, by the time she gets out of the shower, I’m well and truly irritated. I direct her to the section of the closet that I’ve filled with clothes for her, take a shower myself, and then join her out in the living room.
To my pleasant surprise, she’s standing over Greg, letting him sniff her hand.
His paws hit the floor in excited tip-taps, and as soon as he hears me come in, he stiffens, straightens, and his ears turn forward.
It hits me that he’s protective of her—if I were a threat or someone he didn’t recognize, he would’ve attacked.
He must recognize that, beneath Ember’s reinforced-steel armor, she’s vulnerable. Not weak by any means, but traumatized and vulnerable.
I survey the breakfast cart standing in the corner. “Someone brought breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“And you let them in?” She shouldn’t be able to; the door’s protected with a keycode and a biometrics scanner.
“No, it was Greyson. He let himself in.” She glances at me. “I’m not going to run, you know. I can’t. I have nowhere to go, and I’ve given you my word that I’ll stay.”
“I remember you not trusting me when I tried to give you my word on something,” I point out.
“An assassin’s word is usually worth jack shit, but that isn’t the case with me. I’m no ordinary assassin.”
“You’re not,” I agree quietly. “Let’s eat.”
Greyson must’ve delivered the cart straight from the dining room as a favor—if he wanted to talk to me, he would’ve stuck around.
After I set the table, Ember falls on her overloaded plate like a ravenous beast. I blink as I watch her go for sausage, then bacon, then eggs… then, she takes a pause, inhales a few deep breaths as if to steel herself, and resumes.
“Food’s not going anywhere, Flame,” I say mildly. “You don’t have to go at it like you’ll never eat again.”
She pauses, cheeks brightening with embarrassment, and suddenly pushes away her plate.
“I’m not telling you to stop—just don’t make yourself sick,” I say, amused. “Was your eating schedule as sporadic as your sleeping schedule with Dagon?”
She pauses, considering this. Nods. “Yes.”
“It never will be with me. The next meal will always be just a few hours away, and if you ever want a snack, just let me know. Now, drink some coffee; we have a meeting to get to with Cain.”
Cain and Greyson are already waiting for us in his office. Toby is conspicuously absent—probably for the best, considering that he’s the one who ratted about our plan to Cain. I’m sure Ember will want a pound of flesh when the time is right.
“Kind of you to join us, even if it is late,” Cain says with a wolfish grin.
I glance at the clock behind him. “We’re two minutes late.”
“Unless you’re two minutes early, you’re already late.” He gestures to the empty seats across from him. “Sit.”
Instead of letting Ember sit in her own chair, I pull her down on my lap. She casts me an annoyed glance, advertising that she’s still irritated from our argument this morning, but doesn’t budge. I let myself hope that’s because she enjoys touching me rather than her being indebted to me.
“Ember, has Max told you about our deal?” Cain asks.