Chapter 8
Bree
I’ve been showered for an hour.
Clean clothes. Pajamas that someone left outside my door—soft cotton shorts and a worn tank top that smells like lavender. My hair is still damp, leaving wet patches on my shoulders.
I should be sleeping. Everyone else is. The sanctuary has gone quiet in that heavy, exhausted way that comes after something terrible. The guys are scattered in their rooms nearby—I can feel them through the bonds, dim pulses of warmth that tell me they’re alive, resting, healing.
But I can’t close my eyes without seeing Riley’s face.
So I’m wandering.
The hallway outside is empty. Moonlight spills through the windows, casting pale squares on the stone floor. My bare feet make no sound as I walk.
That’s when I see him.
Seth.
He’s stepping out of the bathroom at the end of the hall, towel wrapped low around his hips, water still dripping from his hair onto his shoulders. He looks… different. Cleaner than just the shower. Like the Void residue that clung to him has finally been scrubbed away—inside and out.
He stops when he sees me.
For a moment, we just stand there. Twenty feet apart. Him half-naked and dripping, me in pajamas with wet hair.
My eyes trace the water sliding down his chest before I can stop them.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” His voice is rough. He clears his throat. “I was just—” He gestures vaguely toward a door. His room, I guess.
“I know.” I take a step closer. “Can we talk?”
Something shifts in his expression. Careful. Guarded. Like he’s bracing for bad news.
“Yeah. Of course.”
He pushes open the door and holds it for me. I slip past him into the room—small, simple, a bed with fresh sheets and a window letting in moonlight. Someone’s left clean clothes folded on a chair.
Seth grabs them, hesitates.
“I should probably—”
“It’s fine.” I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling my knees up. “I’ve seen worse.”
He huffs out something that’s almost a laugh. Turns his back to me and drops the towel.
I watch.
I can’t help it. The moonlight catches the planes of his back, the dip of his spine, the curve of muscle as he steps into clean pants and pulls them up over his hips. He doesn’t bother with a shirt.
When he turns around, he catches me looking.
Neither of us pretends I wasn’t.
He leans against the wall across from the bed, arms crossed over his bare chest. Waiting.
The silence stretches.
“You were out for most of it,” I finally say. “After the blast.”
He nods slowly. “I remember pieces. The light. You on the ground. And then—” He frowns. “Hands. Everyone touching you. Magic flowing.”
“The healing chain. The guys fed Stellan power so he could pull the pain out of me.”
“And me?”
“Jace put your hand on my arm. Even unconscious, you reached for me.” I swallow. “You were part of it, Seth. Part of what brought me back.”
His jaw tightens. He looks away.
“I woke up and you came to me.” His voice is quiet. “In the courtyard. Before you talked to the Feeders. You ran to me.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
The question hangs between us.
“Because I needed to.” I pull my knees closer to my chest. “Because when I saw you awake—really awake, and alive—something in me just… broke. I had to touch you. Had to make sure you were real.”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
“I thought I died.” The words come out rough. Scraped raw. “In the blast. When the light hit. I thought that was it. And I was—” He stops. Starts again. “I was okay with it. Because at least you’d be free. At least Ethos would be gone.”
“Seth—”
“I didn’t think I deserved to come back.” He finally looks at me. His eyes are wet. “After everything. The Void. What it did to me. The things I went through. I thought—”
“Stop.”
I stand. Cross the room. He tenses as I get closer, but he doesn’t move away.
I stop right in front of him. Close enough to feel his warmth radiating off his bare skin.
“You didn’t deserve any of that,” I tell him. “Ethos was a monster. And he’s gone now. You felt it collapse, didn’t you? The Void?”
He nods. Barely.
“Then you know. It’s over. He’s gone. And you’re here.” I reach up and touch his face. His jaw. The curve of his cheekbone. His skin is warm and still slightly damp from the shower. “You came back to me.”
His breath catches.
“The bond,” he whispers. “I felt it. In the Void. When you claimed me. I didn’t understand what it was—I just knew I had to get to you. That something was pulling me toward you and I couldn’t stop it.”
“Did you want to stop it?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No.”
“Good.” My thumb brushes his lower lip. I feel him shudder. “Because I chose you, Seth. In the Void, when I didn’t even know what I was doing. My Ether chose you before my mind caught up.”
“Bree—” His voice breaks. “You don’t have to—I know you have the others. I’m not expecting—”
“I already chose you.”
The words hang between us.
His whole body goes still.
“I ran to you first,” I continue. “Before I faced the Feeders, before I dealt with any of it. I saw you and I ran. Because you come first. All of you. But especially—” I take a breath. “You were in the Void with me. You found me when I was lost. You stayed when you could have run.”
“I couldn’t leave you.” His voice is raw. “Even when I had to, it was only to find a way to get you out.”
“I know.”
I step closer. Press my body against his bare chest. Feel his heart hammering through both our skins.
His hands come up—tentative, shaking—and settle on my waist. His fingers flex against the thin cotton of my tank top.
“Is this—” He swallows. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t—” He stops. Tries again. “Not since before. Not since before the Void. I don’t know if I can—”
“Then we figure it out together.”
I rise up on my toes and kiss him.
His mouth opens under mine immediately.
Not hesitant. Not careful. Hungry.
His hands tighten on my waist, pulling me flush against him. I feel every inch of his bare chest through my thin tank top—the heat of him, the hard planes of muscle, the way his heart pounds against mine.
I slide my hands up his chest, feeling him shiver under my palms. Over his shoulders. Into his still-damp hair.
He groans into my mouth.
The sound goes straight through me. My fingers tighten in his hair and I pull, tilting his head back so I can deepen the kiss. His hips buck forward involuntarily and I feel him—hard already, straining against the thin fabric of his pants, pressing into my stomach.
“Bree—” He breaks the kiss, breathing ragged. “I need—I want—”
“Tell me.”
His eyes are dark. Desperate. “You. Just you.”
I pull back just enough to grab the hem of my tank top. His gaze drops to my hands, tracking the movement.
I pull it over my head.
His breath punches out of him.
I’m not wearing anything underneath. The cool air hits my bare skin and my nipples tighten. Seth stares at me like I’ve just handed him something sacred.
“God.” The word comes out reverent. Broken. “Bree, you’re—”
“Touch me.”
His hands shake as he lifts them. They hover over my breasts for a moment—hesitating, uncertain—until I grab his wrists and place his palms flat against my chest.
We both inhale sharply.
His hands are warm. Rough. They span almost the entire width of my ribcage, fingers curling around my sides while his thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts.
“Is this—”
“More.”
He cups me properly then, thumbs dragging over my nipples. I arch into the touch, gasping, and he does it again—watching my face, learning what makes me react.
“Like that?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
He lowers his head.
The first touch of his mouth on my breast makes my knees buckle. He catches me—one arm wrapping around my waist to hold me up while his lips close around my nipple and suck.
“Seth—”
He groans against my skin. The vibration shoots straight to my core. His tongue circles and flicks while his other hand palms my neglected breast, pinching and rolling until I’m writhing against him.
I need more. I need—
I reach between us and palm him through his pants.
He jerks like I’ve shocked him. Hips bucking forward, pushing himself harder into my hand. A broken sound tears out of his throat.
“Bed,” I manage. “Now.”
He walks me backward without breaking contact. My calves hit the mattress and I fall back, pulling him down with me. He catches himself on his forearms, hovering over me, and for a moment we just breathe.
His eyes trace my face. My bare chest. The way I’m spread beneath him.
“You’re sure?” he asks again.
I reach down and push at his pants. “Get these off.”
He scrambles to obey. Kicks the pants off somewhere onto the floor. When he settles back over me, there’s nothing between us but my shorts.
I feel him against my thigh. Hard and hot and big—bigger than I expected—and my whole body clenches with want.
His hips roll once. Involuntary. The friction drags a moan out of both of us.
“I want to taste you,” he breathes. “Can I—please—”
“Yes.”
He slides down my body. Hooks his fingers in my shorts and pulls them down my legs, taking my underwear with them. I’m completely bare beneath him now, and he stares at me like he’s memorizing every inch.
“Beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Then he lowers his head between my thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out. My hands fly to his hair, gripping hard, and he groans against me—the vibration sending shockwaves through my entire body.
He licks me like he’s starving. Long, slow strokes that drag through my wetness and circle my clit before pulling away. Again and again until I’m shaking, until my thighs are trembling on either side of his head, until I’m making sounds I don’t recognize.
“Seth—I need—please—”
He slides two fingers inside me.
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me without warning—my back arching off the bed, my hands fisting in his hair, his name tearing out of my throat. He works me through it, tongue still moving, fingers curling against that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.