41. Jace
Jace
I wake to warmth—not the cold ache of guilt that’s lived in my chest for months, but real, human warmth.
Bree’s body pressed against mine, her head still on my chest, one arm draped across my ribs. The morning light filters through the gauzy curtains, turning everything soft and gold.
For a moment, I just breathe.
The sanctuary hums quietly around us—alive again, the Ether threading through the walls in gentle pulses. Outside, I hear faint voices, the rustle of people moving through the courtyard. The world keeps turning.
But in here, it’s just us.
Bree shifts slightly, and I freeze, not wanting to wake her. Not wanting this moment to end.
Because the second she wakes up, I’m going to have to face it again.
The fact that I was in this bed before. With Riley. Thinking it was her.
My stomach twists.
I should’ve known.
I stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the stone, trying to breathe through the weight pressing down on my chest.
She deserves better than this. Better than me .
Bree stirs, this time lifting her head slightly. Her eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and for a second she just looks at me—like she’s checking to make sure I’m real.
“Morning,” she murmurs, voice rough and low .
“Morning.”
She blinks slowly, then smiles—small and soft, like she’s surprised to find me still here.
“You stayed.”
“You asked me to.”
Her smile widens just a fraction, and she settles back against my chest, fingers tracing idle patterns on my shirt. The touch is light, absent-minded, but it sends sparks through my skin.
I should say something. Apologize. Explain. But my throat’s too tight.
Instead, I just hold her.
The silence stretches, comfortable but fragile.
Then she says, so quietly I almost miss it, “I meant it. What I said last night.”
My heart stops.
“Bree—”
“I love you, Jace.” She lifts her head again, meeting my eyes. No hesitation. No doubt.
Just truth.
And it destroys me.
Because I don’t deserve those words. Not after what I did. Not after—
“Hey.” Her hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing over my cheek. “Where’d you go?”
I can’t look away from her. Can’t breathe.
“I was in this bed before,” I whisper. “With Riley. And I didn’t know it wasn’t you.”
Her expression doesn’t change. Doesn’t harden or pull away .
She just nods. “I know.”
“I should’ve known, Bree. Should’ve felt the difference. Should’ve—”
“Jace.” Her voice is firm now, cutting through my spiral. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But—”
“No.” She shifts, sitting up slightly, forcing me to meet her eyes. “Riley had my memories. My face. My voice. She was designed to fool you. And she did. That’s on her , not you.”
The words hit me, but they don’t stick. Can’t stick.
“I should’ve known,” I repeat, voice breaking.
Bree watches me for a long moment, her hand still cradling my face. Then she leans forward, pressing her forehead to mine.
“Then let’s make something that’s ours,” she says softly. “Right now. Just us. No ghosts. No lies. Just this.”
My breath catches.
“Bree—”
But she’s already kissing me.
Soft at first. Tentative. Like she’s asking permission.
And I answer.
My hands move to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepens, and the guilt twists harder in my chest—but so does the need.
The need to prove that this is real. That she’s real. That I can tell the difference.
When she pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“I want this,” she whispers, her lips brushing mine. “With you. Here. Now. ”
Her hand slides down my chest, fingers curling in the fabric of my shirt.
“Let’s make a memory that’s just ours.”
My throat’s too tight to answer, so I just nod.
And kiss her again.
This time, I don’t hold back.
My hands slide under her shirt pushing it up slowly. She lifts her arms, helping me pull it over her head, and the fabric falls away.
She’s bare underneath.
And I freeze.
Silver lines trace across her ribs. Her hip. The underside of her breast. Some are thin and faded, barely visible in the morning light. Others are raised, pink and angry, like what Kevin did to her can never fully heal.
They map her entire body like a language I’m only just learning to read.
And they’re hers .
“Jace,” she whispers, and there’s uncertainty in her voice now. Her arms start to cross over her chest, covering herself.
I catch her wrists gently, stopping her.
“Don’t,” I say, voice rough. “Don’t hide from me.”
She meets my eyes, and I see it—the fear still there under all the healing she’s done. That I’ll be repulsed. That I’ll see damage instead of survival.
So I show her.
I lean down and press my mouth to the scar that runs along her collarbone. Then the one on her ribs. The one on her hip.
She gasps, hands unclenching .
“I’m going to memorize every single one,” I murmur against her skin. “Every mark. Every line. So I always remember everything we’ve been through to get here.”
Her breath hitches. “Jace—”
“You didn’t deserve these,” I say, tracing a particularly deep scar along her ribcage with my tongue. She shudders beneath me. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
A soft sound escapes her—half sob, half relief—and her hands find my hair, holding me to her.
“I see you,” I whisper. “All of you. And you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you.”
She pulls me up into a kiss—desperate and grateful and real.
Her hands move to my shirt, tugging it up. I help her pull it off, tossing it aside, and then we’re skin to skin.
The contact sends a jolt through me—heat and need and something deeper.
She presses closer, her breasts soft against my chest, and I groan into her mouth.
“Bree—”
“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “Please don’t stop.”
I won’t.
I can’t.
My hands slide lower, tracing the curve of her hips, the line of her thigh. She’s still wearing the loose sleep pants, and I hook my fingers in the waistband, pausing.
Asking.
She nods, lifting her hips, and I pull them down slowly—taking my time, watching the way her body reacts to every touch .
When she’s bare beneath me, I pause.
More scars. Along her thighs. The curve of her hip. One that runs from her navel down.
I trace each one with my fingertips, committing them to memory. Getting flashes of moments that aren’t mine.
“Jace,” she says, and there’s heat in her voice now. Need.
I lean down, pressing my mouth to her hip bone. Then lower. The inside of her thigh.
She gasps, hands fisting in the sheets.
The air stirs.
Not just in the room— around her.
My magic responds to the spike in my pulse, the way my hands shake as I touch her. But this time I don’t let it scatter aimlessly through the room.
I focus it.
A cool breath of air ghosts across her skin—down her sternum, circling her breast, teasing her nipple until it peaks.
Bree’s back arches off the bed. “Oh—”
I do it again. This time letting the current trace lower, down her stomach, swirling around her navel.
“Jace,” she breathes, and I can hear the wonder in her voice. “What are you—”
“Shh,” I murmur against her thigh. “Let me.”
I kiss my way higher, and with every press of my lips I send another current of air ahead of me—cool and teasing, building anticipation.
By the time I reach the apex of her thighs, she’s trembling.
I blow a soft, deliberate breath directly against her center, and she cries out—hips bucking .
“Please,” she gasps.
I don’t make her wait.
I press my mouth to her, tasting her fully, and at the same time I let my magic work—gentle currents of air swirling around her clit, alternating pressure and temperature while my tongue moves inside her.
She shatters almost immediately—crying out, one hand flying to my hair and gripping hard enough to hurt.
I don’t stop.
I work her through it, tongue and magic and hands all coordinating until she’s gasping my name, thighs trembling on either side of my head.
When I finally pull back, she’s boneless—chest heaving, eyes glassy.
“Holy shit,” she whispers.
I grin against her thigh. “We’re just getting started.”
I kiss my way back up her body, taking my time. Her skin is flushed, warm under my lips, and the Ether hums around her—silver threads weaving through the air.
When I reach her mouth, she kisses me hungrily—tasting herself on my tongue.
Her hands move between us, fumbling with the waistband of my pants.
“Off,” she demands.
I laugh—breathless and desperate—and help her shove them down. They tangle around my ankles and I kick them away, finally bare.
Bree’s eyes drag down my body, lingering, and when she reaches for me I have to catch her wrist .
“Wait,” I grit out. “If you touch me right now, this is going to be over way too fast.”
She smirks—just a little. “That bad?”
“Worse.”
But she doesn’t listen. Her hand wraps around me, stroking slowly, and I nearly come undone right there.
“Bree— fuck —”
She leans up, kissing me while her hand moves, and I’m lost.
I reach between us, sliding two fingers inside her, and she gasps into my mouth—hips rolling forward to meet my hand.
We move together like that for a while, learning each other’s rhythm. Her hand on me. Mine inside her. Breath and heat and magic tangling between us.
The Ether flares brighter, reacting to the building pleasure. My air magic spirals through it, and I feel it—the way our powers thread together, weaving something new.
“Jace,” she whispers against my mouth. “I need you. Now.”
I pull my hand away, positioning myself between her thighs, and she guides me to her entrance.
The first press inside makes us both groan.
She’s so tight, so warm, and I have to force myself to go slow—to let her adjust.
But she doesn’t want slow.
Her legs wrap around my hips, pulling me deeper, and I sink into her fully—buried to the hilt.
We both freeze.
Just breathing. Just feeling.
Then she rolls her hips, and I’m lost .
I set a rhythm—slow and deep at first, watching her face for every reaction.
Her eyes flutter closed. Her mouth falls open. Her nails dig into my shoulders.
Every thrust sends a ripple of Ether through the room, silver light pulsing beneath her skin.
I lean down, capturing her mouth in a kiss, and she moans into it—the sound vibrating through me.
“More,” she whispers. “Jace, please —”
I give it to her.
I move faster, harder, angling my hips until I find the spot that makes her cry out.
And then I add my magic.
A focused current of air, cool and deliberate, swirling around where we’re joined—brushing against her clit with every thrust.
Bree’s entire body arches off the bed, a shocked gasp tearing from her throat.
“Oh god—Jace— what —”
“Feel good?” I manage, barely holding on.
“Yes—don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”
I don’t.
I keep the rhythm steady, the pressure constant, and I watch her climb—teetering on the edge of something bigger than either of us.
The air in the room moves with us now, warm currents spiraling around our bodies. The Ether flares brighter with every thrust, and I feel it threading through me—binding us together.
“Come for me,” I whisper against her ear. “Let me feel it.”
And she does .
She shatters beneath me, crying out my name, her body clenching around me so hard I nearly follow her over.
But I hold on.
I need to see it. Need to feel it. Need to memorize the way she looks when she falls apart.
When she finally stills, breathing hard, I press my forehead to hers.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”
She smiles—soft and sated and real.
“I know.”
I’m about to move again—to chase my own release—when the door opens.
We both freeze.
Firelight spills into the room—low and warm—and I know before I even turn my head.
Rhett.
He stops in the doorway, eyes locking on us.
For half a second, shame crashes back—hot and suffocating.
Not again.