Page 17 of Tarnished Embers

“Happy?” she asks around a mouthful of noodles, the word muffled. Then she reaches for her water after swallowing and downs half the glass.

“Ecstatic,” he replies in a droll tone, finally looking away from her and at his meal.

Well, fuck me sideways, the tension between these two is something else and I can’t wait to be there when they explode.

CHAPTERSEVEN

“EARNED IT” BY THE WEEKEND

EMBER

My eyelids are drooping again by the time we finish dinner, my stomach full and a contented feeling wrapping around me like a soft, snuggly blanket. I don’t even realise that my head has drifted to land on Cas’s shoulder and I’m slumped in my seat, my hands in my lap until he nudges me awake.

“Come on, Cinders, let’s get you to bed,” he encourages gently, and before I can even protest that it’s too early, a yawn cracks my jaw almost in half.

“O–okay.”

Cas leads me from the room, the others clearing our dishes as we head down the corridor and upstairs, turning down our wing. I pause before my door, Cas behind me. His warmth is like a balm, and I know that this is too fast, that I shouldn’t be feeling so comforted by his nearness, but the part of me that was broken five years ago doesn’t care. I feel more awake now than I did moments ago, my pulse loud in my ears as I work up the courage to ask for what I really want.

“Will you stay with me?” I don’t turn around, just speak into the door with my hand on the door handle and wait, my heart thudding in my chest. Part of me knows that I’m not just asking about tonight, that I want him and the others in my bed from here on out, regardless of how wrong it is. They make me feel wanted, needed in a way that I’ve never felt before. It’s like, with them, I can finally let go and be the truest version of myself, not just a grieving daughter or someone who is trying to cling to an almost non-existent relationship with her distant father.

“If you want me to, Cinders,” he replies softly, his front pressing to my back in a way that has me shuddering and leaning against him, wanting more of the intoxicating comfort he gives me.

“I want you to stay more than anything,” I confess quietly, stilling as his arm brushes my side, his hand grasping the door handle over mine.

“Then I’ll stay all night.”

He pushes down, swinging the door open, and his other hand lands on my lower back as he urges me forward. We step into the darkened room, and he flips the switch, filling the space with the soft glow of my lamps. I had it rewired when we moved in so the main light never comes on, only the small lamps that dot the room. I prefer the delicate lighting since I hate being assaulted by glaring artificial light.

“I need a shower,” I mumble, wincing when I remember I haven’t washed since the car ride this morning, when Cas covered my pussy with his cum. I can’t say that I’ve hated having it on me all day, but I really ought to wash it off.

“Let’s have a shower then,” he suggests, taking my hand in his warm palm and leading me towards my en suite. Again, the light switch only turns on soft lights, nothing too bright, and for the first time, I realise how intimate this type of lighting is. Being in here with Cas is a vastly different experience to being here on my own and I’m aware of each beat of my heart as it pumps blood through each of my veins.

Letting go of my hand, he heads over to the large shower, leaning in to turn it on. The sound of running water fills the room, and several moments pass before steam swirls from the shower as he shifts to face me. His copper gaze trails up and down my body, and I can barely breathe under his heated scrutiny.

He pads towards me, a swagger in his step, and a pleasurable shiver falls over me, but I don’t move, just wait. I’m trapped in the stormy spell he’s weaving, unable to do a thing as I let him take charge like my mind and body craves.

“Up,” he orders, his hands skimming down my arms and taking my hands in his once he’s in front of me. He brings them over my head, then untucks my shirt and pulls it off. My arms drift down afterwards, my skin pebbling as he takes me in. His eyes snag on my forearm and go wide, his body freezing, and all too late I realise what he’s looking at; the bandage that hides my cuts from this morning.

As though ice water has been thrown over me, I try to hide them with my other hand, my shoulders caving in as my feet shuffle beneath me. I can’t look at him, terrified about the judgement I may see in his eyes.

“Don’t hide from me, Cinders,” he says firmly, a slight rasp to his tone, and my eyes dart to his face before he clasps the wrist of my scarred arm and my hand covering them drops away. I don’t want to keep anything from him, even if I’m not sure how he’ll react, especially after finding out about his parents. He takes a corner of the tape holding the gauze down, then pulls it sharply off, the sting making a hiss fall from my lips. “These are fresh.” It’s not a question, but a statement as he looks down at the red-scabbed lines. “But some are old.”

My mouth opens, yet no words come out, not immediately anyway, and tears fill my eyes in relief and shame at finally having someone else know my secret.

“Your research didn’t tell you this then?” I ask, my tone weary, cautious. I’m not mad that they looked into me, but a part of me will always wish I knew of their existence too before they suddenly appeared in my life. His gaze snaps to mine, the copper bright, and his muscles rigid. It hits me again that his parents took their own lives, and I open my mouth to apologise but he speaks before I can.

“There is still so much we don’t know about you, Ember, even if we did stalk you for half a year. But nothing, fucking nothing, will make any of us want you less,” he tells me, his voice unwavering as he steps right into my personal space, his hand tight on my arm. A shiver cascades over my skin where it brushes his soft jumper. Then he grabs my chin with his free hand, forcing me to keep eye contact just as I was about to stare beyond him, unable to face the heat of his passion. “But you come to us for pain if you need it, okay? We will give you what you need, but you stop doing it to yourself right now, yes?” There’s an edge of pleading and panic to his tone, his eyes wild, and a slight tremble in his muscles that speaks volumes about how important this is for him.

I take in a shaky exhale, sudden tears sliding down my cheeks as the tension drains out of me. I want to agree, if nothing else but to see the terror that lurks in his copper eyes disappear, but what would it be like to give up that part of myself? I’ve been seeking relief in this way for five years. It’s a comfort, a release, and I felt the need this morning because of Cas and the others. Though maybe it would be nice to have someone else help when I feel overwhelmed.

“Yes.” My lips form the word even before I’ve completely committed to the idea, and I’m surprised with how okay I feel about it, my body loose and my muscles weak with relief.

“Swear it, Cinders. Promise me you won’t cut yourself anymore. That you trust us to give you the pain you need from now on.” His voice leaves no room for argument, his jaw firm. So I look into his metallic eyes and agree.

“I swear.” His touch on my chin softens, the slight throb of his grip a reminder of my promise. Then I watch as his entire body relaxes, his eyes softening and no longer wild and worried, as though he was terrified of my refusal.

“Good girl. Now let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”

---