Page 26 of Dark Embers

His scent is everywhere—on the sheets, on my skin, buried in my hair. My body still aches from what we did. My thighs are tender, my wrists feel slightly sore, and my clit… Jesus. Just thethought of his mouth, his voice, that blindfold, makes my pussy throb again.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out.

I can't go there.

Not again.

The phone buzzes again and I carefully slide out from beneath Oleksi’s arm. He shifts slightly, murmuring something in Russian under his breath, but doesn’t wake. I grab the phone from my purse on the bedside table, my fingers trembling slightly as I check the screen.

Sam:Clyde’s alive. Found him in a hospital in New York. Call me.

My heart stops for a beat.

Sam has found Clyde. Does that mean he has Tara as well?

I stare at the message, stunned, trying to push the chaos of last night out of my mind. I tiptoe across the room and start collecting my things, moving quietly as I slip my dress back on, gather my panties from the floor, and find my shoes. I see my bra on the chair and pick it up.

The straps have been cut so I won’t be able to use it again. Fuck it has been so hard to find one with these very thin straps that hid beneath the ones of my little black dress. I shove it into my purse with my panties.

Behind me, the sheets rustle.

“Sabrina?”

His voice is low, gravelly with sleep, and it slides over my skin like a silk scarf.

I freeze. “Oh!”

“Is everything okay?”

I turn slowly, finding him propped up on one elbow, the sheets barely covering his hips. His hair’s tousled, his chest broad and bare and impossible to ignore. Even sleep-softened, there’s a dangerous power in him.

I swallow. “Oh, it's my mom. She just texted—Elena’s being restless.”

“Elena?” His brow furrows. “Who’s Elena?”

I brace myself. “My daughter.”

The words hang in the air like smoke.

“You have a daughter?” he asks slowly, like he’s not sure he heard me right.

I nod. “She’s eight months old. And she stays with my mom on the weekends when I work.” I try to smile, to shrug it off like it’s no big deal. “I need to get her. Sorry to leave like this.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—shock, confusion, maybe something else I don’t have time to unpack. I have bigger things that need my attention like the fact that Sam may just have found my sister.

He sits up, sheets falling to his lap, his abs flexing with the movement, and Jesus, why does he have to look like that first thing in the morning?

“Can I take you?” he offers.

“No.” It comes out too quickly, too sharp. I scramble for an excuse. “I have my car. You should go back to sleep.”

His gaze lingers on me, heavy with unspoken thoughts, but he doesn’t push. “Of course.”

I nod, give him a tight smile, clutching my purse tighter and quickly slip on my shoes. My heels click softly against the floor as I slip out the door, my heart pounding like I’ve just done something wrong.

Maybe I have.

By the time I reach the foyer of the Golden Lights, I’m already dialing Sam.

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