Chapter 22
Seph
I kicked wildly against my attacker.
“It’s okay! It’s me,” Dev hissed in my ear.
I spun around, and there he was.
“Oh my God, Dev,” I breathed.
His face softened for a half second, with relief. His hands clenched like he wanted to hug me.
I pulled my hands into my sleeves and moved into his orbit instinctively. I rested my head against his chest and felt his arms go around me loosely, in case he triggered me.
“Jesus, Seph, do you know how worried everyone is?”
We heard the soldiers coming closer.
“We need to get out of here. They won’t be far.” Dev said, touching my arm. “Come on.”
I fell into step beside him, forcing my legs to keep up.
“How did you even find me?”
“I’ve been scouring this place all day. When I heard them chase a girl from the market, I knew it had to be you.”
“The soldiers wanted to test my rating. They had APA scanners.”
“I know. This place is a damn Light-user stronghold now. Why the hell would you come here?”
“I didn’t know where else to go! I was hoping to find a map or something. Anything so I could find you again.”
He stared at me, something softening in his eyes. “Seph – “
“I’m sorry Dev. I’m so sorry.”
“It’ll be okay. We’ll get out of this. We’ll hide, rest and then I’ll arrange a way out. Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
He gave me a crooked grin. “Come on.”
“Where can we go?”
“I know a place.”
Dev pulled my sleeves, guiding me back towards the town. We ducked into the crowds quietly.
“Keep your head down.” Dev muttered.
When we saw a group of soldiers coming our way, Dev would pull me down side streets and alleyways. After circling the block a couple of times, we came to a small door at the end of an alley.
Dev searched the rocks in front of it until he was satisfied with one – and pulled a key from inside.
We ducked into a dark room and he locked the doors behind us.
The room was dry and dark and had a strong smell of newsprint. There were boxes and file cases piled on top of everything, alphabetically ordered through the room.
I caught sight of one of the papers.
The Telluride Tribune .
“We’re at the newspaper archives?”
“I used to hide here as a kid to piss off my parents,” Dev said quietly. “Come on.”
He led me through towering stacks of boxes and file cases, their edges yellowed and soft with age. The air smelled thickly of dust and ink — old newsprint, sun-warmed paper, and something faintly metallic beneath it.
At the back was a small office so neglected it felt sealed off from time. Dust lay heavy on every surface. A wide red couch sat against the wall, its fabric faded but intact, and beside it a narrow sink with a working tap.
Dev crouched and rummaged through a cupboard beneath it. After a moment, he straightened, surprise flickering across his face.
“It’s still here.”
“What is it?”
He pulled out a small box — chocolates, crackers, a couple of bags of chips.
“My stash,” he said with a crooked grin.
He handed me a bag and I took it hungrily, shoving food into my mouth too fast, forcing it down until it nearly choked me.
“Easy there,” he murmured.
“Sorry,” I said hoarsely. “I’m starving.”
“I’m not surprised.” His voice softened. “Seph… what the hell happened?”
I told him. About Sy. About the bolt that came out of nowhere.
When I got to Andre, my throat tightened.
“He tried to help me. And Dominic Lightwood just took him.”
Dev went still.
“Dominic Lightwood is here?” he asked carefully.
“He seems like he’s…” I hesitated. “Hunting. For something specific.”
I dropped my head into my hands.
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing important. Just the usual bullshit.” My voice came out low, bitter.
“He said Sy attacked the temple. He didn’t, Dev. He just flew me around. They shot at him for no reason.”
“Sy will be okay. You know that.”
“Have you seen him?”
“We pulled him out of the river. The bolt had him pinned to the bank—otherwise he never would have let you go.”
I let out a slow breath. “So he’s not hurt?”
“He was. But you know Sy. He won’t stay down long.” A faint hint of a smile touched his mouth. “I’m surprised he isn’t already here with you. He seems to … care about you. A lot.”
“He does,” I said, sure. “I know he does,”
Dev’s smile wavered, then faded. He looked away.
“Good,” he said, a little too firmly. “I’m glad you have someone like him in your corner.”
I glanced at him, a small smile breaking through.
“Thank you for coming for me, Dev. I’m really glad you’re here.”
His eyes flicked back to mine.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
A yawn tore out of me before I could stop it. My bones ached with exhaustion, deep and relentless.
“You’re tired.”
“A little. I feel like I have been running for days.”
“You should sleep,” Dev said. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
I studied him then. The shadows under his eyes. The tightness in his face. He looked as worn as I felt.
“You too.”
He forced a grin and rubbed at his mouth, but his eyes never left me.
“What?”
“I was—” He stopped, looked away.
“Dev.”
“I was really scared,” he said quietly. “When we couldn’t find you. That’s all.”
I wanted to reach out and touch his face. To assure him I was okay.
Would you touch me?
I heard his voice, quiet in my memory. And I knew my answer.
I reached for him before I could think better of it.
I caught his arm and pulled him down with me, shifting back on the couch to make space. After a moment, he settled behind me, careful, like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to be.
“Seph.”
“Sleep, Dev,” I murmured, another yawn catching me.
He looked at me for a long moment.
“Goodnight, Seph,” he whispered.
Then warmth.
For a half second, I thought he pressed his face to my hair.
But maybe I dreamed that.
The soft sound of his breathing lulled me to sleep.
**
When I woke, warmth surrounded me.
Dev’s arm was around my waist, his body solid at my back. His breath stirred the hair at my neck — slow, steady.
I stayed still, enjoying his proximity.
He wasn’t asleep. I could feel it. The quiet tension in his body gave him away.
Neither of us moved.
Every place where we touched felt too aware. His hand rested at my hip, fingers curled lightly into the fabric like he was holding himself there, not quite sure if he should.
“Seph,” he murmured, voice rough.
“Yeah.”
His thumb shifted — just a small, careful stroke over my side, never quite touching skin. It moved again, and heat flickered under my nerves.
My breath caught.
I leaned back into him. Pressed against him. I wanted more.
For the first time, I didn’t panic. I craved him.
I heard him hiss softly. His grip tightened.
I could feel him behind me — present, restrained, just enough to make my pulse stumble.
His breath hitched against my neck, warm against my cheek.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said quietly.
I turned my head, close enough to feel the warmth of his mouth near my temple.
“I don’t.”
The space between us changed. Slower. Heavier. Charged.
His hand tightened, not desperate — deliberate. Like he’d been holding this back for a long time and was only just letting himself feel it.
And I did the same.
His hands moved more purposefully, down my side, along my thigh, the fabric still between us — and somehow that made it better.
He pressed a kiss into my hair, reverent.
A small sound slipped from me before I could stop it.
His hands drifted upward again, settling at my waist, thumbs brushing the edge of my ribs, close enough that every nerve there lit up. Not claiming. Waiting.
I rolled onto my back and turned to face him.
I had never been this close to someone before.
For a heartbeat, Kieran’s face flickered through my mind — the quiet closeness we used to share. But it had never felt like this. Never this alive.
Dev’s eyes were dark, burning with something he was trying very hard to hold in check. He wasn’t smiling. He looked torn — wanting, but afraid to take too much.
“It’s okay, Dev,” I whispered.
His hands drew me closer, slow, giving me time to pull away if I needed to. He reached up and brushed my hair back from my face, his fingers careful.
“Can I touch you?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” I breathed, heat rushing to my face. “But please don’t—”
“I won’t touch your skin,” he murmured. “I promise.”
My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
I won’t touch your skin.
The words wrapped around something tight and frightened inside me.
I trembled.
“I’ve never done this before,” I admitted softly. “I don’t know what to do.”
Something in his expression softened. A small, real smile.
“That’s okay,” he murmured. “We go slow. You tell me if anything feels wrong.”
His thumb traced the edge of my sleeve, a gentle, grounding touch. Not taking. Just asking.
“Will you let me make you feel good?” he said softly.
I nodded, breath already unsteady. “Yes.”
He didn’t move fast — but he stopped holding back.
The couch dipped under his weight when he shifted, the old springs creaking softly beneath us.
His hand tightened at my waist, thumb pressing into the fabric as if he needed the contact just as much as I did. The slow drag of his touch over cloth made my stomach pull tight, heat blooming low and unfamiliar.
“Still okay?” he asked, voice rough now.
“Yes,” I breathed.
He shifted, his leg sliding between mine, the pressure firmer against me this time. The closeness wasn’t careful anymore — it was charged. Every place we touched felt electric, like my skin had woken up all at once.
My fingers twisted in his shirt, pulling him closer without thinking.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I just knew I wanted him there — the weight of him, the warmth, the steady strength in the way he held himself back even now.
“Breathe,” he murmured, forehead touching mine.
His hand crept under my waist band to the soft, cotton below. His mouth fell over my breasts through my borrowed shirt, leaving damp traces. His tongue flicked out over me, burning me from the inside.
I arched on the couch as the feeling took hold.
His hand moved again — slower, deeper pressure through the fabric of my underwear, the rhythm making my breath break into small, helpless sounds. I hid my face against his shoulder, my body gravitating toward him before I could stop myself.
“That’s it,” he said, voice low and strained now, breath hot at my temple. “You’re okay.”
Like he needed to convince himself as much as me.
When the feeling crested through me, I bit my cheek to stifle the cry.
It was like I was soaring through space without fear of falling.
I felt only heat. I could hear the quiet sound of our breathing tangled together in the dark.
His forehead rested against mine, both of us still for a moment like the world had narrowed to the space between our bodies. His hand remained at my waist, steady, grounding, like he wasn’t ready to let go — not yet.
“You okay?” he murmured.
I nodded, my voice too full to trust. “Yeah.”
I felt different. Less afraid.
Full of possibility.
Because he had touched me.
Dev had touched me.
And we were okay.
He pressed a slow kiss to my temple, lingering there, and I let my eyes fall closed. The storm in my chest softened into something warm and deep.
We didn’t move apart.
We just stayed like that — wrapped around each other, breath evening out — while the world outside kept turning, unaware that something quiet and important had shifted between us.