Page 8 of From the Ashes

I close the distance between us and drop to my knees in front of him, but there are no words I can say to bring him comfort. All I can do is be here for him.

“He’s alive,” Kaos whispers hoarsely. “I watched him die right here. How can he be alive?” There’s a vulnerability in his voice that I’ve never heard before, that he’s never allowed me to hear.

“I don’t know.” It’s not really an answer, but I have to say something.

I don’t know enough, or anything really, about how Caleb Black died. No one talks about him here, and aside from a few passing comments over the years, my father never talked about him either. From what I understand, he wasn’t as business-facing as the others. He worked behind the scenes, and he liked it that way. Maybe this is why. Maybe he always planned to betray his family.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” The question comes out on a choked sob, and I finally allow myself to comfort him. I can’t help it. I need to make sure he’s okay, even if he ends up rejecting my help.

I wrap my arms around him as I climb into his lap, desperate to be as close to him as I can, and when his thick arms wrap around me and hold me against his chest, I let out a breath of relief. He’s not pushing me away.

Kaos buries his face in my neck and breathes me in as I run my fingertips through his hair, something I remember my mother doing when I used to get upset as a child.

“What if they’re right, Princess? What if he’s been sabotaging us? What if he tried to kill you?”

His words are muffled against my throat, and I hold him tighter because I don’t have a response because I don’t know what’s going to happen if our suspicions are true. Will it mean Kaos loses his father for the second time? Or will we be blindsided again?

“I don’t have any answers for you. I wish I did. But we’ll work it out. Together,” I promise. I may not have been a part of this family for as long as they have, and hell, I might be counting myself in before my time, but if there’s anything I know about the men of the Legion, it’s that there’s nothing they won’t do for each other.

I just hope that if push comes to shove and we find ourselves going against Caleb, that Kaos picks the right side.

CHAPTER SEVEN

KAOS

Having Camilla’s soft body wrapped around mine is as settled as I’ve felt since I was balls deep inside her last night. She doesn’t know what to do to help me, but she also doesn’t realize that her just being here is everything I need.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have let a woman touch me, let alone let one comfort me. But now? Now my princess is all I could think about all night as I fell apart.

She drags her fingertips through my hair, and I swallow the groan that threatens to escape. Why does that feel so fucking good?

When was the last time I allowed someone to comfort me? Have I ever? My mom was never in the picture, and I’d never dare call Crew or my dad nurturing. Is this the first time I’ve let someone do this for me?

We don’t have much time. It won’t be long before we have to get ready for the funerals.

If we had it our way, we wouldn’t even bother celebrating the lives of Michael and Scott De Marco. Camilla’s uncle and cousin actively tried to overthrow her, going as far as supplying the men to carry out a hit on her and Crew. A hit everyone else thinks was concocted by my father.

The thought makes me hold Camilla tighter. What if they’re right? What if my own dad wants the woman I love dead? And for what reason? He doesn’t know her, why would he want to hurt her?

That’s what I can’t get past.

It’s part of the reason I refuse to believe what the rest of them seem so happy to accept. That my father is not only alive, but he’s actively trying to take down something he helped to build.

Camilla presses her lips to my neck, the kiss a comforting gesture as she runs her fingers through my hair. “Tell me what I can do,” she murmurs. “Tell me what will make you feel better.” There’s a plea in her voice that tugs at the space my heart used to inhabit.

I pull her back slightly, allowing me to see her stormy eyes. They’re more faded than normal, they have been since she and Crew were ambushed, and I miss the vibrancy of the gray that I’ve found myself lost in over and over since she crashed her way into our lives.

We stare at one another for long seconds, her question lingering between us, and then my lips are on hers, my tongue immediately demanding entry as I nip at the soft pillows. A strangled moan escapes her throat as she repositions herself so she’s straddling me.

Every pass of my lips over hers is frantic. I need her. I need her to make me forget, just for a little while.

Camilla’s hands move over my body, clawing at the shirt I changed into last night, until I release her lips long enough for her to throw it across the room.

I grip either side of the button-down she’s wearing and tug until the buttons fly around us. The shirt belongs to Crew or Bishop, so I imagine I’ll get chewed out about ruining their shit, but right now I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except getting Camilla naked.

A giggle escapes her throat, and somehow the sound only makes me more desperate for her. How can a woman with so much fire and strength make a noise that sounds so innocent?

I shove the shirt off her shoulders before kissing down her throat and along her collarbone. She grinds desperately against me, my boxer briefs the only thing between us.

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