Chapter Three.3

EMBER

Thunder rolled again outside, distant but heavy, vibrating through the bones of the building. Without light, every sound sharpened: rain battering the windows, wind screaming along the exterior walls, the faint settling groan of stressed beams overhead. And then there was her body, too warm,too awake. The scotch still burned low in her veins, but it wasn’t enough anymore, not with adrenaline spiking, not with fear crawling under her skin, not with Ghost pressed close enough that every point of contact felt magnified. Her skin prickled where he touched her.

Not unpleasant.

Not at all.

Just… intense.

The air smelled different now, dust and plaster and something sweet-sharp curling underneath it all. Something that made her stomach tighten and her thighs instinctively draw closer together.

Oh. No.

Her pulse kicked hard. This wasn’t normal.

Her heat wasn’t just circling anymore. It was closing in, fast and insistent, shoved forward by stress and storm and the sheer wrongness of being trapped in the dark with him. Her body felt too aware of itself, of him, of the way his chest rose and fell behind her like an anchor. She shifted restlessly, one small involuntary movement she regretted the second it happened. Ghost felt it, she knew he did. His breathing changed, not much, just enough that her wolf noticed. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions, didn’t draw attention to it. He simply adjusted his stance, grounding them both, giving her space inside his hold without stepping away.

That restraint nearly undid her more than anything else.

Ember clenched her jaw.

Not now.

Not like this.

Not trapped in his apartment with the power out and the storm raging and her body deciding tonight was the night to betray her. “This is bad timing,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Ghost tilted his head slightly, listening to the building, to the storm, to her. “Yes,” he agreed quietly.

She let out a short breath that might have been a laugh if it wasn’t edged with nerves. “Of course it is.” Outside, rain hammered harder against the windows, wind shrieking like it was furious they weren’t leaving. Inside, in the dark, Ember stood held against Ghost’s chest, heat rising fast and inevitable, the reality of being stuck finally sinking in. And for the first time since the storm began, it wasn’t the thunder that scared her most. It was what her body was about to start asking for.

Ghost shifted first, not away, just enough to loosen his hold, to give her space without breaking the steady line of reassurance he’d wrapped around her like a second skin. His hand lingered for a moment longer at her waist before he eased it away, fingers grazing the curve of her hip in a way that felt accidentaly on purpose. A soft touch, barely there but Ember felt it like a strike of heat. Her breath stuttered. Her wolf sat up. He stepped back a half pace, and the loss of his body heat was immediate and irritating. “Stay here a second,” he murmured.

She bristled automatically. “I’m not helpless.”

“I know.” A quiet, maddening certainty. “I just don’t want you tripping over anything in the dark.”

Before she could come up with a retort sharp enough to hide the way her heart jumped, he turned toward the kitchen. Ember watched his silhouette move through the pitch-black room, his outline caught for a moment in a flash of white lightning—broad, calm, steady. Cabinet doors opened and something clattered softly, then a small bloom of light appeared. Ghost struck a match, shielding it with his palm. The golden flare reflected across his jaw and along the line of his throat as he leaned in to light the first candle. A moment later, another little pool of warm glow flickered to life.

Then another.

And then Ember realized—

Her nose twitched.

No.

No way.

He lit more candles, three, four, five, each one releasing the same fragrance she used in her own apartment, amber resin, citrus rind and a hint of smoke.

Her candle.

Her scent.

In his apartment.

Ember blinked at him through the soft orange halo, “…Seriously?”

Ghost straightened, candlelight painting gold across his cheekbones. “The power goes out on this floor a lot.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He didn’t fidget. He didn’t look awkward. He didn’t even offer an excuse. He just said, gently, “They help you sleep.”

Ember’s heart hiccupped. “Shut up,” she muttered.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up anyway.”

But her voice came out thinner than she meant, because the warmth from the candles had joined the warmth under her skin, and the combination was doing deeply unhelpful things. Her heat pulsed again, sharp this time, a wave low in her belly that made her grip the blanket like a lifeline.

Okay. Nope. Absolutely not. This was not happening.

She needed something to do. She needed to move. She needed— “Snacks,” she announced abruptly, as if declaring war. “I need a snack.”

Ghost nodded slowly, like this was a completely reasonable conclusion. “Okay.”

“And then I’m going to sleep,” she added, pacing toward the kitchen before he could ask, question, or even glance at her too closely. “Because this day is stupid. And you’re stupid. And the storm is stupid.”

Another candle lit behind her, his quiet presence following without crowding. “You can have anything in the kitchen,” he said gently. “Take whatever you want.”

“I will,” she shot back, yanking open the pantry like she was preparing to fight everything inside it.

Her heat flared again, stronger this time, close enough to make her knees tense and her throat tighten. She gripped the edge of the counter, jaw clenched, pretending she was just being dramatic on purpose and not because her body was betraying her on a molecular level. “Ember,” Ghost said softly behind her, voice low and careful. She didn’t look at him, “I’m fine” she lied.

And she would be.

Right after she ate something.

Right after she stopped overheating.

Right after she crawled into the nearest dark hole and died.