Page 116 of Ember and Ash

Okay, thanks. Are you at the garrison?

Yes. It’s a bit rough here. Everyone is freaked out. No one here has ever seen an Archdemon. They’re scared, but everyone made it. On a separate note, Celine’s being an over-the-top bitch. And she really hates you. Despite everything that has happened, she still believes you’re with Jeremy and that Micah is somehow seduced by your demon magic.

My demon magic?! I ask incredulously, and I bite back a laugh at the ridiculousness of it, even as I ease onto the mattress beside Micah and press my hand to his chest. He doesn’t move, and I think, even in his current condition, that represents the kind of trust I’ve come to value.

I really do believe she thinks you’re dangerous, Gabriella adds.

That’s not exactly wrong, I concede.

You’re not dangerous to us. Before I can object and remind her that we must rid me of the serpent to make that true, she’s moved on, as if she doesn’t want to hear my objections. What’s crazy is, even seeing how foolish she acts over Micah, Zeke has it bad for her.

He does? I ask, incredulous.

Oh, yes, but she was a fuck buddy with Micah, and Zeke will never get by that. It’s weird to him. Like brothers passing around a woman.

He needs to stay away from her. It’s out before I can stop it.

Why? Where did that come from?

Something sits wrong with me about her.

What are you thinking?

Her reaction to me is too extreme, like she knows something she shouldn’t know.

I hope you’re wrong. You need to tell Micah. Yes. Yes, I think you’re right. He’ll need a good eight hours of sleep for that deep of an injury to fully heal. You get some rest, too.

Thanks, Gabriella.

And then, she’s gone. I feel the break in our communication, and for a moment, my mind settles on Celine, a niggling feeling of unease in me. I wonder now if that’s what Micah meant when he called her corruptible. There’s something dark radiating from her. I also find the perception that she’s a bitch interesting to me, and I wonder if it’s a new behavior or one that’s well established. In my legal work, I found exaggerated behaviors to be a place people often hide to draw attention away from what the person doesn’t want you to notice.

Micah moans softly, and for now, I set my concerns for Celine aside. I scoot closer to him and, with the aid of the house, produce two more vials of soto that I set on the nightstand. My hand presses to Micah’s face, a gentle touch meant to wake him, the thick growth of stubble rough against my palm. “Micah,” I whisper, and his eyes open abruptly. “Ember,” he says, body stiffening, his hand closing around my wrist. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything is fine. I didn’t mean to alarm you. We’re safe. I just need you to take another dose of soto.”

Relief washes over his face, and he hoists himself upward onto his elbows. Once the vials are empty, he drops back on the pillow, and with surprising strength, scoops me close and drags me under the blanket with him, the heat of our bodies mingling.

But a rough grunt follows, and the tight pull of his mouth declares he’s overexerted himself. I urge him to his back and snuggle to his side, his arm draped around me, telling me this is what he seeks. And once again, I press my hand to his heart, the slow, steady thrum eases my mind and my body into slumber, where I wish away the red-winged creature.

Instead, my mind is all about Micah, my thoughts transforming into a dream, a really good dream of his hands all over my body, of him thick between my legs, his mouth on my nipple, his tongue licking me there and everywhere. Him on top of me, the sweet bliss of the heavy, erotic weight of him. The moment he enters me, I’m arching into him, my legs wrapping his legs. He thrusts deep and hard, and then slow, so very slow, sliding in and out of me, teasing us both until I’m begging him for more. He leans in and kisses my neck, whispering naughty things in my ear, and I’m arching all over again, reaching for him. And when his mouth finds my mouth, when our tongues meet, it’s fire, passion, and wicked heat.

With a moan, I jerk to a sitting position, the room dimly lit, only to find Micah still sound asleep on his back, his arm over his head again, which must somehow help the pain in his side. Holy wow, I’m breathless. I have never in my life had such a vivid dream. It was so insanely real that I’m wet and my nipples are tight little achy balls. I lean over to run my hand over Micah’s face. “What are you doing to me?” I whisper, and as I stare down at him, tenderness fills me. I think I might love him, and I tell myself that’s not an emotion the person who chooses to end the world would experience. Wouldn’t I already be cold inside? Wouldn’t I already have formed a darkness in me if that’s where my journey ends?

With a shift of my body, I sink down low against Micah’s side, my hand resting on his belly, his skin almost too warm beneath my palm. I think it’s part of his healing process, remotely remembering the heat when I was going through this, like a burn from within. I burn from within for this man, but for now, I settle for just holding him, and I drift back into slumber.

The next time I wake, it’s with a languid stretch, the room still dim but for the candles, only to realize Micah isn’t in bed with me. I jerk to a sitting position and scan the room, but he’s not here. “Micah!” No answer. “Micah?!” I throw away the blanket, and I have no idea where my slippers are.

My hand stretches and reaches, and finally, when I dig under the blanket, I latch onto one and then the other, tossing them to the ground and fitting my feet inside. “Micah?” I rush to the bathroom, afraid he’s fallen or hurt, but he’s not there. With my hands on the edge of the doorframe, my chin tilts low. He left. In the morning light, he clearly didn’t want this thing between us to turn the wrong direction. But memories of us laughing by the tub and him pulling me under the blanket with him have me rejecting that idea. He wouldn’t run from anything, most certainly not me.

Eager to confirm nothing is wrong, I use magic to dress and freshen up before rifting to the main room, where I find Micah and Zeke standing at the kitchen island. My heart flutters wildly at the sight of Micah. He looks good, himself again, his jaw no longer shadowed, his weakness behind him, and I remember our bodies pressed close last night, the things we’d said to each other. He knows the instant I’m present, his gaze lifting and landing on me. “Morning,” he says, and his eyes are warm with welcome.

Zeke rotates his upper body to motion me forward. “I’m about to leave.”

I rift to stand opposite Zeke and to the right of Micah. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t get along well with Lucius, the Overseer of the district the Diviner inhabits,” Micah explains. “Zeke’s going to go ahead of us to the domain and try to navigate a trouble-free visit.”

“Can’t Jeremy track you?”