Chapter 32 Lavender and Ash
The discussion went on long. Maps were sketched on notebook paper, guard rotations memorized from Leo’s intercepted security logs, and entry points debated. Hecate conjured shimmering three-dimensional blueprints over the table, and we spent the evening tracing possible paths through them.
“There are at least four across the state—Asclepius and Acheron are the largest, but if they’ve got her in a smaller processing center, we’re flying blind,” Leo explained, his gaze darkening.
“If she is in one of the major facilities, we could use this loading dock.” Leo pointed to the eastern side.
“Deliveries come every Tuesday and Thursday at six AM. Small window, but if we time it right—”
“Too exposed,” May countered. “What about the utility access here? Underground maintenance tunnel?”
“Flooded,” Leo replied, his face grim. “I already checked it. That whole section’s been compromised for months. We’d be trapped.”
We plotted ingress points, argued about fallback zones, and spun theories from scraps. Every option had risks. Every path had guards. Every escape route had complications we couldn’t fully account for.
Twilight gave way to full dark before anyone noticed. What had started as afternoon planning had stretched through dinner into the evening. The table was littered with empty pizza boxes, abandoned mugs, and crumpled notes.
It was past nine when May groaned and flopped back against the couch, rubbing at her temples with the heels of her hands.
“Okay, I think my brain just blue screened,” she sighed.
“We should pause,” Luz agreed, standing and gathering plates. “Get some rest.”
Leo yawned, stretching until his spine cracked. “Right. I told the guys at Ekklesia I’d meet them at the library tomorrow morning. Gotta maintain the cover.”
May stood and rolled her neck, something popping. “I need to get back to Amy.” Her expression softened. “I think she knows when I’m there. Even if she can’t say it.”
“She knows,” I said with absolute certainty.
May gave me a quiet, searching look, like she was seeing me differently now, before nodding.
Hecate rose, gathering her coat. “I’ll return tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. We have much work to do if we’re to make you combat-ready before we move on Ekklesia.” She fixed me with that dark gaze. “Tomorrow, we will push harder.”
“I’ll be ready,” I promised, my muscles already protesting the future strain.
Kian stood. “I’ll walk you all out.”
But I didn’t move from my curled spot on the couch, mug still warm between my hands, legs tucked beneath me.
“Are you coming too?” May asked, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.
I shrugged, feigning ease. “I think I’ll stay, since Hecate will be here early tomorrow.”
Luz gave me an all-knowing smirk, winking at me. “Right. Training.”
“That’s what we’re calling it now?” Leo added, grinning like the absolute menace he was.
“Oh my gods,” I groaned, cheeks flushing hot. “Can we not?”
“Just be safe,” May said, her smile widening.
“Don’t break any furniture. Or him.” Leo teased, waggling his eyebrows at me.
“I’m standing right here,” Kian muttered from the doorway, the tips of his ears going red.
“We know,” all three of them said in perfect unison.
“Out,” I barked, grabbing a pillow and flinging it at them. “Before I sic the hellhounds on you!”
They left laughing, and I buried my burning face in my hands while Kian stood in the doorway looking both amused and mortified. The flat was too quiet after they left. I could hear Kian in the kitchen—running water, mugs being rinsed, cabinet doors closing.
My body ached with exhaustion, the weight of everything pressing on my shoulders. I leaned back against the couch, rubbing at my temples where a headache was building. Everything tangled together until I couldn’t separate one fear from another.
“How are you feeling?”
Kian’s voice made me open my eyes. He was leaning against the wall between the kitchen and living room, watching me with that careful intensity he got when he was worried.
“I feel like I’m being crushed from the inside out,” I admitted. “It’s like the more I learn, the less I can breathe. Every answer just adds more weight until I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry all of it.”
He studied me, his gaze tracking the tremor in my hands. Then he pushed off the wall and crossed to his record player. I watched him flip through vinyl before selecting something and sliding it from its sleeve. The needle dropped with a soft crackle.
Warm and intimate music wrapped around the space.
I blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you from imploding.” He smiled as he held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
I stared at it. “Dance? Kian, I can barely think straight right now—”
“Which is exactly why we’re dancing,” he interrupted gently. “You’ve been thinking too much. So stop thinking. Just move with me. For a few minutes. Let everything else go.”
“I don’t—” I started, but he just wiggled his fingers, waiting.
“I promise it won’t kill you.”
I huffed a laugh. “Not unless you put on ‘Careless Whisper.’”
He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “You will never let me live that down, will you?”
“Not a chance.”
He shook his head but didn’t lower his hand. “Come on, Tealeaf. One dance.”
A laugh bubbled in my chest, the tension loosening. I slid my hand into his, my heart quickening. His palm was warm as he tugged me into the center of his living room.
We swayed barefoot on the hardwood, his arm circling my waist and my hand resting against his chest. His heartbeat drummed under my palm.
There were no shadows, no mask. Just Kian, grinning at me like I hung the moon.
He hummed along with the music, spinning me clumsily and catching me again, his laughter rumbling low.
“You’re ridiculous,” I giggled.
“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, his forehead leaning close to mine.
Between the sway of our bodies and his smile, something shifted inside me.
My breath caught with the realization. I wanted this.
I wanted him. This man who fussed over fruit bowls and blushed when I touched him.
Who made me breakfast, danced with me, called me Tealeaf.
The man who looked at me like I was worth every century he’d waited.
But that desire terrified me. How could I know where my desire ended and hers began? The thought made my stomach clench. I let my head rest against his chest, let the music carry us as though the world outside didn’t exist.
Kian’s arm tightened around me, as though he sensed the moment my thoughts tangled into something too tender. He didn’t say anything. He held me closer, his cheek brushing the crown of my head.
The music carried on, our bodies swaying. My pulse was a mess, thudding so loud I knew he had to hear it. I tilted my head, meaning to read his eyes. But the space between us was suddenly too small, tense with something that had been building all evening.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. My stomach flipped. For a beat, we stood there, frozen on the edge of a choice we’d been avoiding for weeks.
“Kian…” I whispered.
He bent, closing the last inch between us, his lips brushing mine in a kiss so careful it nearly broke me.
And gods help me, I kissed him back.
My fingers curled into his shirt. His hand slid up my back, steadying me, and the soft exhale he gave was so full of relief it made my eyes sting. There, in the stillness of his living room, with nothing but the quiet music and the warmth of him, the world fell away.
The kiss deepened almost shyly. What began as a soft brush transformed into something hungrier. Kian’s thumb traced along my jaw. My hands slid up into his hair, tugging him closer. Everything narrowed to the warmth of his body and the quiet music that suddenly seemed far away.
And then, without warning—
A flicker of memory.
The kiss wavered as it crashed over me. The heat of a different night, stone beneath my back instead of hardwood beneath my feet. His fingers tangled in my hair. My heart jolted as the dream from that first night rose in vivid detail—not fantasy but actual memory, real and mine.
I broke the kiss, not pulling away but needing space. My breath came fast, my heart racing not just from the kiss but from the images blazing behind my eyes.
His eyes took a moment to open before he gazed down at me, dazed and dark with want and confusion.
“They were right, you know,” I said, voice rough.
“That I should be afraid for my furniture?” He teased.
“That I stayed for more than training.” I giggled, heat coursing through my body.
His expression sobered, eyes searching mine. His hand lifted to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, lingering against my cheek. I leaned into his touch.
“Do you remember,” I said, fingers tracing along his collarbone through the thin fabric of his shirt, “when you brought me here that first night? When I had that dream?”
I felt the ripple go through him, his whole body going tense beneath my hands.
“The one where I called your name,” I continued, watching his face.
“I remember. I thought—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I thought it was just the memories surfacing.”
“It wasn’t just any memories,” I whispered, leaning closer until our foreheads nearly touched. His breath ghosted across my lips. “Our first time. I thought it was a fantasy when I woke up. But it was real, wasn’t it?”
His pupils dilated, swallowing the gray-blue of his irises. “Yes.”
A thrill shot through me, settling low in my belly. Before he could speak, I pushed at his chest, playful and testing, to see if he’d yield the way he had that night. He did, his knees bending against the couch as he sank onto the cushions.
“Mel—” he started, but I was already moving to straddle his hips, as I had in that memory.
His hands caught my waist, his fingers flexing against my borrowed sweater.
My pulse thundered in my ears, my own confidence surprising me.
Memory and desire filled my mind, making every movement feel natural, as if I had done this sort of thing a million times.