Page 33 of Ashfall

Her eyes glitter with something far deeper than mischief. “Good.”

And as the cave quiets around us, our fire doesn’t die. It waits.

Smoldering.

Ready.

Because this wasn’t an ending.

This was the beginning of forever.

CHAPTER 15

EMBER

The cave still smells like smoke and sex. I stretch like a cat in sunlight, slow and indulgent, and catch my reflection in a slick patch of rock. My hair’s a mess, my lips are swollen, and I grin at the sight. Damn right I look wrecked. I earned that look.

Someone should really market that as a candle—'Apocalypse Afterglow,' maybe. I should be embarrassed by how good that scent makes me feel—instead, I roll my shoulders back and grin. That smell? That’s power. That’s mine. I earned it, I survived it, and I enjoyed every molten, earth-shattering second. For once, I don’t feel like I’m chasing fire—I am it. And gods help anyone who tries to put me out.

The air is cool as dawn breaks, filtered soft through the moss-choked mouth of the cave. My muscles ache in the best way—used, stretched, satisfied—and I’m draped half over Dax like some lazy jungle cat who just conquered her mate. Because I did. And hell yes, I’m claiming it. There’s power in this moment. Sensual, slow-burning, and thoroughly mine. For once, I don’t feel like I’m trying to keep up. I feel like the one setting the pace.

His arm is heavy around my waist, possessive even in sleep. One scarred hand sprawls across my hip like he owns it. Maybehe does. The fact that I don’t mind that thought should probably worry me—but it doesn’t. Not when his touch still hums under my skin like an echo. Not when his presence wraps around me like protection laced with danger. I should pull away. Should remind myself I don't need anyone to anchor me. But gods, it feels good to let go—for just this moment—and know someone else is strong enough to hold me.

We dress in silence, the heat between us simmering but different now. Less frantic. More dangerous. Like an ember buried in ash, waiting for a breath to reignite. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t speak much, either. Just keeps casting glances my way like he’s waiting for me to bolt. Maybe I used to. But not this time. I’ve faced monsters. Danced with fire. And tasted power I didn’t know I wanted. I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. Not until I decide the terms.

Kade meets us at the edge of the ridge just as the sun begins to climb. His expression says he’s not going to ask questions, and I’m grateful for that. Without a word, he hands Dax the keys to the chopper and slides behind the wheel of the SUV we used to get out here.

"You good to fly?" Kade asks, with a glance between us that says he already knows the answer.

"Yeah," Dax says, low and firm. "Thanks."

We climb into the chopper, and I let the rush of air and the thrum of the rotors fill the silence. The trip back to Blackstrike’s base takes less than an hour, but it stretches like forever. Dax pilots with practiced ease, but his jaw is tight, and he doesn’t look at me once. I don’t push. Not yet. My body still hums from what we shared, but my brain’s already sprinting ahead—spirals, Malek, what comes next.

By the time we touch down at Blackstrike’s base—tucked deep in the canyon, part hangar, part ancient volcanic shrine—the heat between us has cooled to something tense and quiet. Watchful. Waiting.

Dax doesn’t say much. Just jerks his head towards the back and says, “There’s a spare room with a shower. It’s stocked with all you’ll need. Get some rest.”

Then he’s gone, footsteps fading into stone. I follow his directions, finding the room easily. The walls are dark, volcanic rock—older than memory, the kind of place that holds its secrets close.

I strip and step into the shower, letting the hot water chase the chill from my bones. Steam curls around me, thick as the thoughts in my head. The heat soothes, but it doesn't clear the buzz under my skin. Every inch of me feels sensitized, electric—like the air before lightning strikes. I towel off slowly, absently, and then something catches my eye. I glance toward the mirror, the steam sliding away just enough for a clear view.

And I freeze.The mark is still there—it wasn’t my imagination. Low on my left shoulder, just where the neck meets the curve of muscle. Faint. Glowing. Shaped like a spiral, like flame trying to etch a memory into skin. It pulses softly, a whisper of heat that makes my skin prickle. Not quite a burn. Not quite a bruise. But it’s alive—throbbing with a residual power that feels foreign and yet intimately known. My breath catches. The air thickens around me, like I’ve just stepped into a room I’m not supposed to be in.

The heat isn’t mine. Not fully. But part of it... part of it feels like a claim. Like something Dax left behind—not by accident, but by instinct. A brand without fire. A promise without words. My fingers drift to the edge of the spiral, and even the gentlest touch makes it thrum beneath my skin. Power. Connection. Danger.

The mark pulses again, syncing with my heartbeat, like it's fusing to more than just flesh. It’s intimate in a way that makesmy breath hitch, terrifying and seductive all at once. Part of me wants to cover it up. The other part wants to show it off like war paint. Because this isn’t just a brand—it’s a warning. A challenge. And maybe, deep down, a vow.

And gods help me, it doesn’t scare me. It makes me feel... powerful.

“Well, that’s new,” I mutter, poking at it gently. “Should’ve come with a user manual—or at least a warning label.” It hums under my touch, like it remembers exactly who put it there—and why. It’s intimate, almost smug, like a love bite left by wildfire. "Thanks for the magical hickey, dragon boy," I add under my breath, rolling my eyes at my reflection even as a thrill coils low in my stomach.

Down in the hangar, the rest of the unit is gathered—Kade, Rafe, and a couple I haven’t met yet. All broody, lethal-looking men with the kind of shoulders that say 'I throw firetrucks for fun' and eyes that say 'I've seen too much.'

"So," I say, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow, "you all breathe fire, or is that just a Dax thing?"

Kade snorts. Rafe grins without humor. One of the others chokes on his protein bar.

Dax appears behind me, all heat and quiet command. "Don’t encourage her."

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