Chapter Three.1

EMBER

Ember felt him behind her before she heard him move, that steady, too-controlled presence that somehow made the room feel smaller even though he wasn’t doing anything except existing, which, frankly, was its own kind of inconvenience. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself as though she could barricade her skin against the storm outside and the other storm beginning under it.

Great. Perfect.

As if thunder wasn’t bad enough, now her body had decided to go off-schedule like a treacherous traitor. She sank onto the couch in a stubborn little drop of weight that said this is where I live now and you can’t make me do anything. The scotch helped, but only so much. Anxiety crackled under her ribs while heat hummed under her skin in little pulses she pretended not to notice. Ghost lingered at the edge of the room, giving her space the way only someone who paid far too much attention knew how to. He didn’t come closer, didn’t crowd her and didn’t ask how she was doing.

She hated him for that too.

Thunder boomed, deep and rattling and too close, and Ember flinched before she could hide it, her jaw clenching hard. Ghost’s attention snapped to her. She ignored him. She was perfectly fine. Perfectly composed. Perfectly— Another rumble shook the windows, long and low, like the building itself was groaning.

Nope. She was totally not fine.

She set the empty tumbler on the coffee table with a little too much force. “I need another drink,” she said flatly. Ghost didn’t argue, didn’t hesitate, “Okay,” he murmured, already moving toward the kitchen like she’d asked for a glass of water instead of emotional triage in liquid form. Heat flickered again, low and coiling and deeply inconvenient, and Ember dug her fingers into the blanket, silently willing her own biology to take a lap. Ghost returned a moment later with another overly generous pour of scotch, the twist of citrus curling over the rim like he’d added it without thinking.

Of course he had.

He held it out. Ember snatched it before he could say anything stabilizing or gentle. “Are you… settling in?” he asked cautiously.

“No,” she said. “I am spiraling gracefully.”

He huffed. Not quite a laugh, more a quiet exhale that somehow made her bristle. She took a swallow of scotch and stood abruptly, pacing because sitting made her feel trapped and pacing made her feel unhinged, and both were currently preferable to lying down anywhere in this apartment. Her eyes caught on the neatly organized shelves, the spotless countertops, the impossibly tidy row of books by the window.

It irritated her. It impressed her.

It irritated her again.

“Why is this place so clean?” she demanded.

Ghost blinked. “It’s… my apartment?”

“That’s not an explanation,” she snapped.

He didn’t answer. He just watched her with that steady, maddening softness that made her feel seen and cornered all at once. Her phone buzzed.

Saved by the chaos.

TENANT GROUP CHAT:

2D (Luca): oh look the newlyweds are online

3A (Ester): does that mean they survived

4C: if they start knocking boots during the storm I am using earplugs I swear to god

Ember nearly threw her phone across the room. “Ghost,” she hissed, “fix this.” He leaned over her shoulder just far enough to read the screen. “No,” he said simply. She stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “No?”

Another message pinged.

Luca: did he carry you bridal style or what

Ember made a noise somewhere between a feral snarl and a wounded animal.  “I am literally going to rip his giant fucking head off his stupid tiny shoulders,” she announced, already moving. It wasn’t a plan so much as a launch. She sprang off the couch in one sharp, uncoiled lunge, bare feet barely touching the floor, intent on Luca-shaped violence.

She did not make it two steps and Ghost caught her midair. One moment she was airborne and incandescent with rage. The next, his hands were around her waist, solid and unyielding, stopping her momentum without hurting her, without even jarring her. He absorbed the force like he’d been built for exactly this kind of scenario. “Easy,” he said quietly, close to her ear. “Calm down, little one. Storm’s not over yet.”

That did it.

Ember went rigid, not struggling, not relaxing, just… still. She turned her head slowly, deliberately, until she was looking back at him over her shoulder. Her eyes had shifted, just a flash, just enough. Wolf-dark, bright with heat and fury and something sharper underneath. Her body felt too tight in his grip, every nerve screaming awareness of where his hands were and how perfectly they fit. “Let. Me. Go,” she said, each word clipped and vibrating. Ghost didn’t move. He didn’t tighten his hold, but he didn’t release her either. His jaw flexed once, control carved into every line of him. “I will,” he said evenly. “In a second.” Her fingers curled, nails biting into the blanket still looped around her shoulders. She could feel his breath against her hair, steady and infuriatingly calm. She hated that he smelled like safety. She hated that her body noticed. She twisted just enough to glare up at him properly. “You’re enjoying this,” she accused. His mouth twitched. Barely. “I’m not,” he said gently.

A lie. A beautiful one.

Then the thunder hit.