Page 49 of Silent as Sin
I wasn’t waiting anymore.
Tonight, I was going to tell Ashen how I felt.
***
ASHEN’S DOOR CLICKEDshut behind us, the muffled noise from the common room fading until it was just us. His presence filled the space, steady and overwhelming all at once. His cut landed on the chair in its usual place, boots left in a careless pile against the wall. He didn’t waste words, he never did this late, just steered me toward the bed with that quiet patience I’d come to lean on.
He stretched out the way he always did—long, broad, unmovable. His arm came around me, pulling me in until my back was against his chest, his hand heavy at my waist. Heat rolled off him, soaking through the thin barrier of my shirt.
This was our ritual. His breathing drowned out the ghosts, his strength built a wall nothing in the dark could climb.
But tonight, the nightmares weren’t the loudest thing in my head.
I lay awake, heart thudding, eyes fixed on the shadows stretching across the ceiling. The glass bird on the nightstand caught the moonlight, silent, fragile, reminding me of the choice I’d made. If I died tomorrow, I’d regret not doing this.
“Ashen.” My voice cracked on his name.
He made a low sound, almost asleep, but his arm tightened, like he was reminding me I wasn’t leaving.
“I don’t want to just sleep tonight.”
That cut through him. His body went still, muscles locked, breath pulled slow and careful.
“What are you saying, Wren?” His voice was gravel in the dark, gruff, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right.
I turned, inch by inch, until I was facing him. The scar at his temple caught the silver light, the hard line of his jaw inches from mine. My hands shook, but I pressed them to his chest anyway, felt his heartbeat hammering under my palms.
“I want you,” I said. The words were raw, scraped from somewhere deep. “Not just to hold off the nightmares. I want all of it. To feel you. To feel… us.”
His hand slid up my back, slow and deliberate, as if he was holding back everything else inside him. His eyes locked on mine, dark and fierce, making sure I understood.
“You sure about that?” His voice was rough now, stripped of sleep, heavy with control. “Because I won’t lay a hand on you unless you are.”
“I’m sure.” My throat closed but I forced it through. “I don’t want to be afraid of this anymore. I don’t want to be afraid of being with you.”
Something shifted in his face then—raw, hungry, breaking loose. He dragged me in close, forehead pressed to mine, his breath unsteady between us.
“You’ll never be afraid of me,” he promised, his voice cut from iron. “I’d tear myself apart before I let that happen.”
And I believed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SHE LOOKED ATme like I was the last choiceshe’d ever make — and fuck, I wanted to be. Wren had said the words. Full sentences. Soft and sure.I want you. All of you.
I should’ve told her no. She’d been through too much. Carried scars that weren’t hers to bear. But the way she stared at me, shaking and sure at once, told me she knew exactly what she was asking.
“Wren.” My voice came out rough with trying to hold back and be gentle. I cupped her face, forcing her to meet me. “Youtell me to stop, I will. But if you want this…” My thumb ghosted over the curve of her cheek. “…then I’ll make it perfect. You understand?”
Her lips parted, trembling, but her eyes didn’t break away. “I’m sure.”
Two words. They snapped every restraint I had left.
I kissed her slow at first, tasting nerves and trust on her mouth. She clutched at my shirt like she was hanging on, and I let her. Let her feel the strength I was holding back. She pressed closer and I rolled her beneath me, careful, steady, while everything burning inside me screamed to take. This wasn’t about me. It was about giving her back what had been stolen.
Her breath hitched when my hands slid under her shirt, skin to skin. She shook but didn’t pull away.
“You stop me if it’s too much,” I murmured, my forehead pressed to hers. “Right in the middle, doesn’t matter. You say stop, I stop. Got me?”
