Page 172 of Ashes to Ashes

“That’s normal when suppression breaks down. Your true nature reasserting itself after being artificially contained for so long.”

“What does my true nature want?”

“Depends, beautiful thing. What do your instincts tell you?”

I close my eyes, reaching for whatever’s stirring in my chest. The answer comes without thought, raw and honest: “Touch. Connection. Something real and primal after all that manipulation.”

When I open my eyes, his gaze has darkened to molten gold, pupils dilating with hunger he’s fighting to control.

“Ash...”

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say quickly. “That I’m not thinking clearly. That this is just magical overflow or trauma response or?—”

“No.” His massive hands completely encompass my ribcage, fingertips meeting at my spine. “I’m thinking that you’ve been through hell and you deserve to choose what comes next. All of it. None of it. Whatever feels right to you.”

The careful restraint in his voice—the way he’s fighting his own obvious desire to put my choice first—something loosens in my chest watching him hold back for me.

“What if I choose you?” The words slip out before I can stop them. “What if I want to feel claimed by someone who sees me as more than a weapon or a political asset?”

His breathing shifts. “Tell me what you need, little wildfire.”

“I need...” I struggle to find words for the ache in my chest, the restless energy demanding outlet. “I need to feel like I belong to myself again. After twenty-eight years of being someone else, of having my real instincts buried... I need to know what I actually want when nothing’s holding me back.”

“You’re free now. Trial stripped everything away. Glamour’s breaking down. Just you—completely free.”

“Then help me remember what that feels like.” I lean closer until our foreheads touch. “Help me discover who I really am.”

“How?”

The question hangs between us, weighted with possibility and careful restraint. This beautiful, powerful man asking permission instead of taking what he wants.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, echoing his words from before.

“Completely.”

“Then show me what it feels like to choose. Really choose, without hiding anything.” I press my lips to his jaw, tasting salt and something essentially him. “Show me what claiming feels like when there are no secrets left between us.”

The sound he makes is purely animal—a growl that vibrates through his chest and into mine. But his massive hands remain gentle as they frame my face.

“Are you certain? Because once we cross this line...”

“Fuck being contained. Controlled. Acceptable. I want to know what I’m really like when nothing’s suppressing my true nature.”

His smile turns absolutely predatory, revealing teeth sharper than they should be. “Then run.”

The word stops my heart. “What?”

“You want to feel wild? Then be wild. Let your instincts loose and run through these woods.” His voice drops to a predatory purr that makes my knees weaken. “Give me a chase worth winning.”

Understanding floods through me along with a bolt of recognition. The restless energy under my skin, the need for something primal and real—this is what it’s been building toward.

“And when you catch me?”

“When I catch you,” he promises, amber eyes blazing with hunger that makes my pulse spike, “I’ll show you exactly what choosing feels like. What being claimed by someone who worships you feels like.”

Something ancient unfurls in my chest—not fear but anticipation. The thrill of being pursued by someone I want to be caught by. Someone strong enough to match me, wild enough to understand me.

“Give me a head start?” I ask, already backing toward the tree line.

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