44. Bonus Chapter
Bonus Chapter
MAC
G riz found me in the garage swearing at a rusted bolt on the rover.
“What’d that bolt ever do to you?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he leaned against the wall.
I set my jaw and put all my weight on the torque wrench again. He watched me in silence, but as usual, his thoughts rang loud in my head.
He better tell her before she gets in too deep with Lee. Damn, that bolt really is stuck. How long before he asks for a blowtorch? If I throw this at him, will he catch it?
I internally rolled my eyes and put out my hand, catching the apple without looking. Griz’s favorite part of my new mind-reading power was throwing random shit at me without warning to see if I could catch it.
“Nice catch,” Griz grinned.
I gave up on the bolt and sat up, chucking the apple back at him. “You have somethin’ you wanna say?”
“I probably already said it, didn’t I?”
I glared but didn’t correct him. I had already heard it in his head.
“She’s happy,” I muttered. “I’m not fuckin’ it up.”
“What about you?” Griz asked.
I wiped my hands on a rag and played dumb. “What about me?”
“Don’t you deserve to be happy?”
I glanced up at him and smiled a wide, toothy, completely fake smile.
“That’s so fuckin’ creepy, man.”
“You ever seen her eyes glow gold before?” I changed the subject as I got to my feet.
“Gold?” Griz raised his eyebrows. “Only when she healed me and Jax by the watchtower. Caught a glimpse of ’em right before she turned into a living sunbeam.”
I hummed thoughtfully and moved past him to put the wrench away.
“How come?”
I could feel his eyes boring into me and hear all the speculation running through his head—each one more ridiculous than the last. I leaned my hip on the workbench and raised an eyebrow.
“No, I’m not tryin’ to awkwardly ask if she’s secretly smitten with you,” I huffed, but I couldn’t help the grin pulling at my lips.
“Look, if you give me nothin’, I’m gonna make assumptions,” he grinned back. “And she is secretly smitten with me, so tough luck, fucker.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d rather she be smitten with you than fuckin’ Lee .”
“Do you think Wolf knows?”
I barked a laugh. “No. There’s no way he knows.”
“How the fuck does he not know?”
That was a good question. My whole crew had figured it out without me saying a word.
It really wasn’t hard. Wolf was real fucking perceptive, so how he didn’t notice Ember’s cheeks going pink when Lee whispered in her ear or Lee being glued to her side or the way their eyes seemed to always find each other across the room was beyond me.
I shrugged.
“Guess everybody’s got a blind spot,” Griz muttered.
“Mac?” Raven’s yell came from outside, and it had a hint of urgency that made me head immediately to the door.
“What?” I asked as I strode outside, scanning for any sign of a threat.
“Em needs some help at the clinic!” Raven reported, her voice clipped.
I didn’t wait; I took off running. I skimmed through the thoughts nearby, trying to figure out who was with her and why she needed help, but found nothing.
The clinic finally came into view, and my stomach dropped when I realized Wolf’s crew wasn’t outside.
Where the fuck were they? I burst into the clinic, scaring Roe and Apple, where they were lying on the floor drawing with charcoal on some paper.
“What’s wrong?” Apple demanded, sitting up. Roe copied her, his eyes wide as saucers.
“Nothin’, it’s ok. Nothing’s wrong. Where’s Em?” Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
“In our room,” Roe answered timidly.
“You kids stay here, ok? Everything’s fine.” I tried for a friendly smile, but they both frowned at me.
I strode into the addition and up to her door, rapping gently on it.
“Come in,” she called from inside, and just the sound of her voice eased some of my tension.
I pushed the door open and stepped into her room only to freeze on the threshold, the words I’d been about to say stuck in my throat.
Ember stood with her back to me—her bare, unguarded back.
My eyes followed the curve of her spine and mapped the exposed, scarred skin she worked so hard to hide.
The scars weren’t just lines—they crawled across her freckled skin like barren, twisted branches.
I’d seen her back bloody and shredded, but somehow this was worse.
A bleeding wound was temporary—these marks had been carved into her with a cruel permanence—and they should have been mine.
Her hair cascaded down her back in damp, unruly waves as though she’d just bathed.
The jeans she wore were too big for her slight frame and belted tightly around her waist. Her ribs jutted out like monuments to the hunger she’d been forced to know so intimately.
Looking at her, one could easily misjudge her as fragile, but she was tough—tougher than anyone I’d ever met.
You didn’t survive this world by being soft, and she was a survivor.
“Sorry, Raven, I know you’re—” She turned as she spoke, holding a towel over her naked chest, and as soon as our eyes locked, she froze like a deer in headlights. Her eyes widened, panic flickering in them.
“Hey, sorry, I should’ve announced myself.” I kept my voice steady as I held her gaze. “Raven said you needed help?”
“Oh.” Her voice was flustered and uncertain. “Um, sorry… I just thought… Raven was gonna… I saw her and asked, um…”
I could practically see her scrambling for composure. Her cheeks were painted in a rosy pink, and I fought the smile that tugged at my mouth. Her blush undid me every time.
“Em, it’s ok.” I softened my voice. “What did you need help with? Your back?”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Ember,” I interrupted, my voice low and firm. I stepped further into her room, gently closing the door behind me. I waited until she met my eyes to continue. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready and willin’ to help.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
“If you want someone else, that’s ok,” I said in her head. “But I’m more than willin’.”
I could practically hear Griz snorting in amusement at that.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“I’m sure. Your back hurtin’?”
She let out a breath, and her shoulders slumped a little. “Yeah.”
I glanced behind her at the bottle of oil on her dresser. “That it?” I gestured toward the bottle, and she nodded. I strode over and grabbed it, noting the orange flower petals floating in the clear oil.
“Calendula?” I asked, holding up the jar as I approached.
Her beautiful eyes widened. “Yeah.” She paused. “How did you know?”
“You made a shit ton of these this past winter. How would I not?”
She stared at me, her brow slightly furrowed like she was trying to figure something out.
“Alright, tell me what to do,” I added when she didn’t say anything.
She instructed me on how to apply the oil, clutching the towel to her chest and stumbling slightly over her words.
My heart broke as I watched her steel herself before she turned and revealed her scarred back as though bracing herself for my reaction.
A shimmering wall of solid golden power hid her thoughts from me.
I hated that she’d learned to block me so fast; I hated that she felt the need to.
Gently, I gathered her thick hair and tucked it over her shoulder, and her little shuddering breath almost brought me to my knees.
The oil pooled, glistening, and I warmed it in my hands before gently touching her skin.
She flinched slightly, making my gut twist, but I didn’t stop.
I worked the oil into the scar tissue slowly, my movements deliberate, willing her to know there wasn’t a single thing about her that repulsed me, not an inch that didn’t command my respect.
She tipped her head down, hiding her face behind her hair, and I longed to tell her, to make her understand her scars didn’t make her any less—they made her more.
Slowly, her muscles relaxed under my fingers.
I added a little more pressure, trying to erase the ache with my thumbs.
I wished I could take all of it—all the pain, all the hurt, all the years she spent being chipped into smaller and smaller pieces.
She told me she was broken, but the fact she was here with this map of violence covering her skin and still so much kindness and care in her heart meant she was fucking unbreakable .
A goddess remade piece by piece, scar by scar, into something achingly beautiful.
“That feel ok?” I asked, and even in my head, my voice sounded slightly hoarse.
“Yeah.” Her voice was soft—the single word packed with emotion.
Her muscles were hard where they should have been smooth as if they were trying to protect themselves from more damage.
Under the rough scars, I could feel the muscles straining to hold together what had been torn apart.
The worst of it was across her lower back, where the stitches had ripped, leaving a jagged line.
The whip had bitten into her so deep since she had little fat or muscle to protect her, and the way her flesh had knitted itself back together looked more like survival than healing.
The memory assaulted me—shoving my way through the crowd to see her dangling from her cuffed hands on the whipping post, her back a shredded, bloody mess.
Trey lifted her up, trying his best to avoid the wounds on her back as I uncuffed her hands.
I remembered how my hands shook as I tried to unlock the cuffs and how Trey’s voice cracked with fear as he begged her to open her eyes.
I remembered sitting beside the table where she lay unconscious and taking her limp hand, my thumb gently tracing the welts on her wrists from the cuffs.
I remembered wanting to put a bullet in Madame’s head for what she’d done.
I fucking should have. Instead, I took my fury out on Zip after Trey told me how the asshole hit Ember hard enough to knock her out.
I’d more than repaid the favor.
My hands followed the stiff muscles, and under my fingers, they became loose and pliant.
I wanted to lean down and kiss the back of her neck and run my hands through her thick hair.
I wanted to devour her, taste all her sighs, and hear her gasp my name.
I wanted to explore her entire body with my hands, my mouth?—
I shifted slightly, trying to inconspicuously adjust myself. Getting an obvious hard-on was an asshole move, and I wanted her to feel safe to ask me for help with anything.
I didn’t want to stop, but I was running out of oil to rub in. Reluctantly, I dropped my hands. “That feel any better or does?—“
She turned to face me, and her eyes were full of tears.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” I demanded, my blood suddenly running cold.
“No!” she said quickly. “That was…really nice. And…I am just…” A tear spilled over, and she practically growled in frustration. “I am so fucking sick of crying.”
I attempted to hide my smile. “It’s ok if you cry.”
“I don’t want to,” she muttered.
My hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way to her face.
Her soft skin against my rough hands made a quiet ache settle in my chest. I kept finding myself here, gently cradling her cheeks, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
Something about how her face fit so perfectly in my hands as if it were shaped just for me.
It was becoming a habit or perhaps an addiction to hold her like this and feel her pulse thrumming with life beneath my fingers and my magic racing to the surface as though it recognized her.
It felt like holding a godsdamned fallen star in my hands.
Her emerald eyes always went wide, emotion flashing through them like lightning—there and gone before I could get a good look.
She never pulled back or spoke, like she was waiting for me to say something—and gods, I wanted to.
I wanted to tell her how breathtaking she was, how she was everything I didn’t deserve and everything I wanted.
I wanted to tell her holding her like this was like holding the last bit of warmth in a cold, cruel world.
I wanted to tell her these moments felt like I was stealing something sacred, but it was a crime I would commit again and again just to feel the curve of her cheek against my palm.
Instead, I asked, “Where’s your brother?”
She blinked. “He’s meetin’ with his crew about something. Why?”
“Nobody was here guarding the clinic.”
“Raven was here,” she replied, her brows pulling together and a familiar stubborn light igniting in her eyes.
I had a pretty damn good idea why Raven switched places with me. As if Griz playing matchmaker wasn’t enough.
“Well, I guess you’re stuck with me now,” I sighed, shaking my head with an exaggerated frown.
“Ugh,” she groaned playfully.
“What were the tears for?” I asked, softer.
The vulnerability in her eyes seemed to freeze, hovering between letting me in and retreating behind that wall. I reacted instinctively, gently stroking my thumbs down her cheeks.
“Don’t shut me out, Em,” I murmured.
Her pupils dilated as my thumbs moved across her skin. “I don’t know how to explain it,” she whispered.
“Would it be easier like this? ” I asked in her head.
“Maybe?” She frowned. “I just…felt…connected. To you. I felt your emotions about my…my scars.”
I fought to keep from reacting, but my heart started hammering in my chest. “Was that good or bad?”
“Good. ” Her voice wobbled.
The words rushed to the tip of my tongue, suddenly desperate to pour from my mouth, but a loud knock on the door startled both of us. I dropped my hands and took a step back, and just like that, the spell was broken.
“Em?” Apple called. “Can we get some more paper?”
I stepped out to help the kids, giving her some privacy to finish getting dressed.
She emerged a few minutes later, and the rest of the evening was mundane—domestic even.
Wolf and his crew returned shortly after sunset, and I exchanged pleasantries with them, pretending not to notice how Lee’s hand lingered on the small of Ember’s back.
When I stepped outside, the cool evening air did little to ease the weight of everything I didn’t say.
Inside the clinic, I heard her laugh, the sound like sunlight breaking through the clouds, and my feet stopped.
I lingered on the small, rickety porch, listening to that beautiful sound and remembering the silence of those first few months.
I’d tried so damn hard to hate her, but her hollow gaze haunted me.
The moments she would spark to life and fight me, her eyes flashing with defiance and rage, were a relief.
I preferred her like that—those moments when she seemed alive , even if it was fueled with fury at me.
I could carry the weight of these unspoken words if it meant she was happy. For now, it would be enough to love her in silence—in the spaces between words.