Page 67 of Veil of Ashes

The bunker flashes in my head, Enzo’s voice on that tape, cold and distant, saying I was never meant to be found. My hands twitch, itching to break something else, to shatter the quiet that’s choking me.

I rake my fingers through my hair, bourbon still sticky on my skin as I pace a tight line by the counter. Kieran watches, eyes dark and patient, tracking me like he’s waiting for me to bolt or strike.

“I believed you,” I say, voice rough as I stop, turning to face him again with my fists clenched. “Back there, in the desert, I thought you were with me, not playing me like the rest.”

“I was with you,” he says, stepping closer still, his boots scuffing soft on the floor. “Every step, every fight, that was real—none of it was a game by then.”

My throat tightens, a knot I can’t swallow as I look up at him, his face half-lit in the lamplight. His shirt’s torn at the shoulder, a glimpse of skin underneath that stirs something low in my gut despite my anger.

“Then why does it feel like a lie?” I ask, voice trembling as I step into his space, close enough to feel his heat. “Why does it feel like you’ve been holding this over me, waiting to cash it in?”

“Because I fucked up,” he says, voice raw now, hands flexing at his sides like he wants to reach for me. “I should’ve told you the whispers, should’ve trusted you with them from the start.”

I laugh again, softer this time, a sound that catches in my throat as I shake my head. The bourbon’s burn lingers on my tongue.

It’s not belief that moves me, not trust snapping back into place like a broken bone healing fast. It’s the heat crawling up my spine, the ache pulsing behind my eyes, the memory of Enzo’s voice and the bunker’s dust still clinging to my skin.

I take two fast steps, closing the gap until I’m right in front of him, breath ragged.

My hands fist in the front of his shirt, knuckles brushing the warm muscle beneath as I grip tight.

He doesn’t reach for me, doesn’t move to touch, just stands there, waiting with a steadiness that drives me wild. His breath brushes my face, close and warm, a tether pulling me in despite myself.

I yank him down, crashing my lips into his, kissing him like I can erase every lie that’s ever stained the space between us. It’s not soft, not gentle—it’s a clash of teeth and hunger, grief spilling out in a raw, desperate need I can’t name.

His truth cracked something open in me, a fracture I feel down to my bones.

Not trust, but something close to mercy, sharp and alive, driving me into him.

I pull back from the kiss, my lips tingling with the taste of Kieran’s heat, and stumble toward the bed, tugging him along by his shirt. We collapse onto the mattress together, slower this time, no frantic tearing of fabric, just his steady hands finding my waist as I sink into the worn sheets beside him.

His fingers brush my hips, gentle but firm, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he presses too hard. I don’t pull away, letting his touch settle over me, warm and real, as I look into his eyes, dark pools reflecting an ache that mirrors my own.

I slide my hands under his shirt, lifting it slow, exposing the scarred skin of his chest inch by inch as he shrugs it off. My fingertips trace the raised lines crisscrossing his ribs, maps of battles he’s never spoken of, and I learn him through touch, memorizing every mark.

He peels my shirt up next, fabric whispering over my head as cool air brushes my bare skin, nipples hardening under his gaze. His hands cup my breasts, thumbs grazing the peaks slow and deliberate, sending a shiver racing down my spine as I arch into him.

I kick off my boots, the thud loud against the hardwood, and shimmy out of my jeans, leaving me bare beneath him. He sheds his pants too, cock springing free, thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum as he settles between my thighs, heat radiating where our bodies brush.

His lips find my neck, kissing soft, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on my skin as I tilt my head back. My hands roam his back, nails digging into the muscle there, feeling him tremble under my touch like he’s holding something fragile.

I spread my legs wider, inviting him closer, my pussy already wet and aching as his cock nudges my folds. He doesn’t rush, just presses in slow, stretching me inch by inch until he’s buried deep, filling me full with a quiet groan that vibrates against my throat.

“Kieran,” I breathe, voice soft as I wrap my legs around his hips, locking him there. He moves steady, hips rolling gentle, cock sliding in and out with a rhythm that builds a slow fire low in my belly.

His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open wider as he thrusts deeper, balls brushing my ass with every push. I rock up to meet him, clit grinding against his pelvis, sparks of pleasure blooming bright as I clutch the sheets beneath me.

He pulls back, cock slipping free, wet with my juices, and flips me onto my stomach with a gentle nudge. I lift my hips, ass up, and he slides back in, fucking me from behind, slow and deep, his breath hot against my shoulder as he presses kisses there.

My pussy clenches around him, slick and tight, dripping down my thighs as he reaches around to rub my clit with two fingers. I moan loud, the sound raw in the quiet room, pleasure coiling tighter with every circle he draws, every thrust he gives.

I turn my head, catching his lips in a kiss, sloppy and deep. This wasn’t escape. This wasn’t rage. It was surrender—chosen, not stolen.

He pulls out again, rolling me onto my back, and climbs over me, cock brushing my stomach as he settles between my legs. His hands frame my face, eyes locked on mine, trembling as he slides back inside, filling me slow and sure with a tenderness that cracks my chest open.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down until his chest presses flush against my tits, nipples grazing his skin. He fucks me steady, cock hitting deep, a rhythm that’s all breath and heat, our bodies curling into each other like a quiet prayer.

His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging light as he buries his face in my neck, breath ragged against my pulse. I feel him swell inside me, thicker, harder, and I clench tight, pussy pulsing as I chase the edge with him, hips bucking up to meet every thrust.

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