Page 72 of Ashes to Ashes

Those amber eyes lock onto mine with immediate understanding that floods my system with relief so profound my knees nearly buckle again.

“The earth has claimed you,” he says, wonder coloring his voice. Not fear or surprise—recognition that resonates through my bones.

“Too much.”

“First awakening overwhelms every sense until you learn to move with the forest instead of fighting it.”

Close enough now that his scent reaches me.

Woodsmoke.

Cedar.

Growing things.

Something green and wild that cuts through chaos instead of adding to it. His presence creates calm in the storm raging through my nervous system. A lighthouse beacon cutting through hurricane winds.

“I can smell emotions now. Fear tastes like pennies, desire smells like ozone, and you—” I breathe deeper. “You smell likeevery place I’ve ever wanted to belong. Which should terrify me more than it does.”

“You’re not meant for stone walls and iron cages,” he murmurs, reaching out slowly.

His fingertips trace one of the thorn patterns visible through my torn sleeve.

Contact.

Fire races through every nerve—not painful but awakening. Heat blooms where he touches, spreading outward, lower. My entire body burns with sweet flame. Every cell sings.

The sensory chaos doesn’t disappear, but his touch creates order from it, finding the frequency that cuts through static.

My core liquefies. My knees weaken. My body responds to him like it was made for his touch alone.

“How exactly does that work? Because last time I checked, emotional aromatherapy wasn’t part of basic human biology.”

“Wild recognizing Wild,” he says simply. “Your blood calls to mine. Like seeks like across any distance.”

His hand moves from my arm to my shoulder, then to the base of my neck where short hairs stand on end. Where his palm rests, warmth spreads like honey in my veins, golden and thick and right.

The sensory overload begins organizing itself into manageable streams—still intense but no longer crushing my sanity beneath its weight.

“Let me help,” he says, voice dropping to something intimate that makes my pulse spike and sends heat pooling low in my belly. “Let me show you how to hear what the forest is actually saying.”

He moves behind me, broad chest against my back, hands spanning my waist.

I should protest.

This is too fast, too intimate. I barely know him beyond stolen glances and one combat demonstration that ended with me breathless.

But my treacherous body melts into his heat like I’ve been waiting my entire life for exactly this touch. Like every cell recognizes him as essential.

Every place he makes contact sends electricity through transformed flesh.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs against my ear, breath tickling sensitive skin. “Don’t try to block the information. Learn to sort it instead.”

His thumbs find thorn patterns at my hipbones, tracing them through shredded fabric with reverent precision.

The touch sends lightning straight to my core.

I gasp.

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