Chapter 23 Jace
Jace
The firelight flickers across her skin like liquid gold.
I’m between her thighs, lost in the taste of her, the way she moves beneath my mouth. Her fingers are tangled in my hair, holding me exactly where she wants me, and fuck—I love this version of her. Confident. Demanding. No hesitation, no apologies.
“Don’t stop,” she breathes, and the command sends heat straight through me.
I wasn’t planning to. Haven’t been able to think about anything else for hours except making her feel good, making her forget everything except this moment. The way she says my name when I find the right spot, the way her thighs tighten around my shoulders when she’s close.
She’s different now. Stronger. More willing to take what she wants instead of waiting for permission.
It started after that morning we found her in the chamber alone.
Like something inside her finally clicked into place.
The hesitation that used to make her flinch away from touch, from pleasure, from us—it’s gone.
Replaced by something that makes my pulse race every time she looks at me.
The old Bree would have blushed at half the things she whispers in my ear now. Would have hidden under covers instead of sprawling across her bed like she owns the world.
This Bree? This Bree takes what she wants and makes no apologies for it.
I fucking love it.
My tongue finds that spot that makes her arch beneath me, and her grip in my hair tightens. “There,” she gasps. “Right there.”
The authority in her voice makes me want to do whatever it takes to keep hearing it. I’ve always been good at reading people, at finding what makes them laugh or squirm or lose control. But with her, it’s become an obsession. Every sound, every tremor, every breathless command.
The knock at the door makes me freeze mid-motion.
Any normal person would call out “just a minute” or tell whoever it is to go away. Any normal person would be mortified at the interruption.
“Come in,” she says instead, barely breathless, like having someone walk in on us is the most natural thing in the world.
Um…
I lift my head slightly, disbelief coursing through me, but she presses me back down with a firm hand. Her palm is warm against my scalp, possessive.
“I said don’t stop.”
What the fuck?
The door opens. Footsteps. A pause that stretches too long.
My heart is hammering against my ribs, but not entirely from embarrassment. There’s something thrilling about this—about being claimed so completely that she doesn’t care who sees. About being hers in a way that’s undeniable.
“We need to talk.” Thane’s voice, clipped and professional.
I can’t see him from this angle, but I can feel the tension shift in the room. The weight of his presence. Bree doesn’t even flinch.
“Then talk,” she says simply.
My brain short-circuits. She wants me to keep going? With Thane standing right there?
But her hand is still in my hair, stroking through the strands like I’m exactly where I belong, makes the decision for me. If she’s not embarrassed, then neither am I.
I press my mouth back to her, feel her respond immediately. Her breathing picks up again, and I have to bite back a groan at how perfectly she fits against my tongue.
“They’ve requested to visit the sanctuary,” Thane says, his voice carefully neutral. “The Council. Two weeks from now. A formal dinner, followed by an inspection of the chamber.”
The words filter through the haze of heat and want, but it’s hard to concentrate when Bree’s fingers are stroking through my hair and her thighs are trembling on either side of my head.
Council visit. Inspection. Those should be alarming words, but right now all I can think about is the way she tastes and the soft sounds she’s making.
“Tell them they’re welcome,” she responds, calm and collected like she’s discussing the weather instead of hosting the people who’ve been trying to control her for months, while I work between her legs. “We’ll prepare a proper reception.”
“What kind of inspection?” I manage to ask, lifting my head slightly so I can see her face.
“The Ashen Oath chamber,” Thane answers. “They want to see it. Verify access.”
Bree’s hand tightens in my hair, not in pleasure but in something sharper. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—calculation, maybe. Planning.
“Perfect,” she says, and I can see the way her lips curve into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s time they saw what real power looks like.”
I press a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, keeping my mouth busy while watching her face.
There’s a pause. Something unspoken passing between her and Thane, and even though I can see her expression, I can’t read the full dynamic between them.
The air feels charged in a way that has nothing to do with what we were doing before he arrived.
“You can go now, Thane,” she says, and there’s an edge to her voice that wasn’t there before. Not cruel, exactly, but dismissive. Final. “Unless there’s something else?”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Two weeks, then.” His footsteps retreat. The door closes with a soft click.
The moment he’s gone, the tension in Bree’s body shifts back to something purely physical. She exhales slowly, like nothing unusual just happened.
“Where were we?”
I look up at her, half-dazed by the whiplash between political maneuvering and this. “You want me to—”
“Finish.”
The command in her voice, the way the firelight catches in her eyes and turns them molten—it’s intoxicating. I dive back in with renewed focus, the adrenaline from being watched somehow making everything more intense.
She’s close now, I can tell from the way her breathing changes, the way her fingers clench and release in my hair. I work her with single-minded determination, chasing every gasp and tremor until she breaks apart beneath my mouth.
When she comes, her hand knots tight in my hair, and I feel the tremor that runs through her entire body. The soft gasp that escapes her lips, my name falling from her mouth like a prayer.
I stay there for a moment, pressing gentle kisses to her inner thigh, savoring the way she shivers at the contact. When I finally look up, she’s watching me with a satisfied smile that makes my chest tight with something that might be love or might be worship. Maybe both.
“I love it when you’re bossy,” I say, grinning up at her.
She laughs softly, the sound rich and satisfied. “Then you’ll love me even more by the time the Council arrives.”
Something about the way she says it makes my stomach flutter—not with excitement, but with something like unease. Like there’s meaning layered beneath the words that I’m missing.
But then she’s pulling me up to kiss her, and whatever I felt dissolves under the press of her mouth against mine.
I eventually slip out of bed, pulling my shirt back on and trying to shake off the post-sex haze.
My body feels loose and satisfied, but my mind is spinning from what just happened.
Not just the sex—though that was incredible—but the whole thing.
The way she handled Thane’s interruption like it was nothing.
The casual way she dismissed him. The authority in her voice when she talked about the Council.
When did she become so… commanding?
The kitchen seems like a good idea—water, maybe something to eat, something to ground myself back in reality. The sanctuary is quiet at this hour, most people asleep, but there’s always someone awake. Night shift rotations, insomniacs, people with nightmares.
I’m halfway down the hall when I nearly collide with Wes coming around the corner.
“Shit, sorry—” I start, then stop when I get a good look at him.
His hair is disheveled, shirt wrinkled like he threw it on in a hurry. There’s something different about his face too—a looseness around his eyes, like tension that’s finally been released. And he smells like…
Oh.
The realization hits me like a freight train, and suddenly I’m very aware of how I must look. Hair messed up from her fingers, lips probably still swollen, the faint scent of her perfume clinging to my clothes.
We stare at each other for a beat too long.
“Late night?” Wes asks, and there’s something almost amused in his voice.
“Yeah, you could say that.” I clear my throat, feeling heat creep up my neck. “You too, apparently.”
His mouth quirks up at one corner. “Something like that.”
We’re both trying so hard to be casual about this, but there’s no hiding what we’ve both been doing. The evidence is written all over us—the satisfied exhaustion, the lingering flush, the way we’re both avoiding direct eye contact.
“So…” I trail off, not sure what the protocol is here. Do we compare notes? Pretend this isn’t awkward as hell? Make jokes about sharing?
“She’s different lately,” Wes says quietly, and there’s something careful in his tone. “More… confident.”
“Yeah.” I nod maybe too eagerly. “She knows what she wants now. It’s incredible.”
“Incredible,” Wes echoes, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression I can’t read.
“I mean, she used to be so hesitant about everything,” I continue, because talking feels better than standing here in loaded silence. “Now she just takes what she wants. It’s like she finally stepped into who she’s supposed to be.”
Wes nods slowly. “Right. Who she’s supposed to be.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes me pause. Like he’s testing the words, seeing how they taste.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine.” He runs a hand through his already-messed hair. “Just… tired.”
“Right. Well.” I gesture vaguely toward the kitchen. “I was just going to grab some water. You want anything?”
“I’m good. Thanks though.”
We stand there for another awkward moment, the weight of what we’re not talking about pressing down between us.
“I should…” Wes gestures toward his room.
“Yeah. Me too.”
But neither of us moves.
“Jace?” Wes’s voice is quiet, almost uncertain.
“Yeah?”
For a second, it looks like he’s going to say something important. Something that might cut through all the careful politeness and get to whatever’s really bothering him.
Instead, he steps closer and kisses me.
It’s soft, brief—nothing like the desperate hunger from before. Just his lips against mine for a heartbeat, warm and sure.
When he pulls back, his eyes are serious. “This doesn’t change anything. What happened between us.”
My chest tightens. “Wes—”
“Goodnight, Jace.”
He’s already moving before I can figure out what to say back.
I watch him walk away, noting the tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. The way he keeps glancing back toward Bree’s room like he’s forgotten something but can’t remember what.
When I finally make it to the kitchen, I can’t shake the feeling that there was more to that conversation and that kiss than either of us was willing to admit. Something lurking underneath the surface awkwardness that felt heavier than simple post-sex weirdness.
But as I drink my water and head back to my own room, Bree’s satisfied smile fills my mind and pushes everything else aside.
She’s finally becoming who she’s meant to be. And whatever small doubts might be creeping around the edges, they’re not worth examining too closely.
Not when she’s finally, truly happy.