Page 32 of Branded Souls (Ember Hollow Romance #3)

Fox

I stood beyond the archway that led to the sitting room, hidden by shadow in the dimly lit foyer.

I hadn’t been here long, having let myself get wrapped up in work I’d been neglecting in favor of scouring the internet, and Skye’s corrupted devices, for her father.

Mom had sent me to announce that dinner was finally on the table, but the sound of Skye’s laugh had stopped me in my tracks.

I hadn’t heard that sound in years.

I’d forgotten what it sounded like when it was real; it was a warm, rich sound that made my heart clench. She was laughing like she hadn’t known she could until this exact moment.

Skye sat with Hailey perched on her lap, arms loosely wrapped around my niece’s tiny frame.

Reid stood nearby, grinning as Hailey launched into some dramatic retelling of a play she’d seen.

Emersyn and Lark were curled up on the couch, drinks in hand.

All of them were talking like old friends. Like family.

She wasn’t a stranger to my family. She had practically lived here when we were both young and everything still felt unshakable. But this was different. We were all older now, worn around the edges in ways no one liked to talk about.

My family had known real loss since then. We’d lived in the shadow of it, changed forever. And somehow…Skye didn’t seem like a ghost from my past. She belonged in this room. She brought light to it.

It had been a long time since I’d seen her this way.

She looked happy. Everyone around her reflected that, too.

I’d noticed it since she came to stay with my parents.

The way she talked about them, and the way they spoke about her in return; I’d never known someone could bring such ease to the people I loved most—my family—like she had.

The realization hit me harder than her laugh had.

Ever since Skye had come back into my life, I had told myself it was just the past pulling at me.

I’d thought if I focused on my anger and her betrayal, I’d be able to ignore the truth.

That the way I felt for her wasn’t some unresolved thread from a different life.

This feeling wasn’t coming from nostalgia. It wasn’t unfinished business.

It was her.

Skye Adler had a gravity around her. No matter how hard I’d tried to resist it, to brace myself—I was sinking in again. Falling harder than I meant to. Deeper than I could afford.

Fear wrapped around my heart, almost bringing me to my knees. When she left this time—when she walked away—it was going to ruin me .

As if I had called her name, her head turned. Her gaze found mine from across the space, pinning me to the spot. Her smile disappeared as something shifted between us.

It happened so fast, I wasn’t sure whether I was imagining it, but her eyes stayed locked on mine, grounding me as something built between us. An invisible cord I’d pretended didn’t tether us pulled tight, bridging the gap that had been stretched for years and miles.

For a moment, it was like we were in our own little world. The noise of the house dulled as everything, and everyone, melted away but me and her.

My heart fluttered, raced, as if it needed to be set free. Skye’s face flushed. Every molecule in my body drew me toward her, to reach out and close the space we’d let grow wide and vacant between us.

But then, I froze. In fear, in longing. Everything hit me all at once, like a wave washing me out to sea.

“Hey.” Roman’s heavy hand clapped down on my shoulder, suddenly breaking the spell. “Food’s getting cold, little brother.”

Startled, I blinked over at him.

I didn’t reply, and when I looked back at Skye, she had turned away. But the soft pink blush still warmed her cheeks.

“Come on, Hailey,” Roman called, his deep voice rumbling through the room. “Time to eat.”

He caught everyone’s attention, and they all started to rise from their seats and drift toward the table. The kitchen was filled with movement and warmth.

Skye walked past me, and as she did, her fingers brushed the inside of my forearm. It was only a whisper of contact—but it scorched.

I swallowed hard, barely able to breathe.

Dinner was…difficult.

I ended up across from her at the table, which was either the worst or best decision. Even though I had a full table of family to look at—my brothers, my friends, Hailey’s dramatic flair— I only saw her.

She smiled easily. She told stories I’d never heard about sleeping in cramped motels in the middle of nowhere, chasing down leads that made my skin crawl listening to them, calling out corruption on live television without flinching.

Her voice lit up with passion, with that fire I remembered burning in her even back when we were teenagers.

The rest of the table laughed with her, nodded, and asked questions. They liked her. They always had.

She wasn’t just some high school girlfriend they remembered fondly.

She was Skye Adler. Strong. Sharp. Brave as hell. And somehow still soft enough to sit with my niece on her lap and talk about Broadway like she hadn’t spent half her life staring down monsters.

After dinner, she even participated in Hailey’s performance that she graced the family with every week. Hailey loved to make impromptu scenes and skits, involving various members of the family. Skye volunteered without hesitation.

It was a side of her I hadn’t seen in so long. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been aching for it.

When the night had wound down, and Hailey had fallen asleep in Skye’s lap, people started to leave for their own homes in little groups until it was just Skye and me sitting by the fireplace with Mom and Dad.

I’d been nursing a glass of bourbon my father had given me after dinner. I spun what was left of the ice around the bottom as Mom and Skye talked, but I hadn’t been participating in the conversation for a while.

It wasn’t until Dad’s soft snores disrupted the discussion that Mom finally tapped him on the leg and decided to call it a night.

“Sleep tight,” she whispered to the two of us. “Let me know if you need anything, Skye. ”

Skye nodded and waved to them as they headed to their bedroom at the back of the house on the first floor. Dad had always bragged about how their bedroom was the best room in the house, quiet and far away from all us rambunctious kids upstairs.

Now, it served them well when they had guests to give everyone privacy.

When Skye and I were finally alone, I set my glass down on the side table next to my chair. “I can walk you to your room, if that’s okay?”

I had no idea what I was doing. I had no business still being in this house.

I had barely said a word directly to her the entire night, but when I met her gaze, that pull—that gravity—was very much intact.

Her cheeks turned the color of the last sip of wine in her glass.

She wore a dusty lavender dress that made her dark hair and eyes pop.

She’d paired it with a knitted cardigan, the look feminine and soft.

It wasn’t her normal attire, but I liked it.

The dress was just short enough to show a peek of thigh when she crossed her legs.

“You don’t have to,” she murmured, setting down her glass.

It was only her second one of the night, so I didn’t think it had anything to do with the blush warming her skin.

She glanced at the stairs, nervously bouncing one knee.

I stood, crossing to her in a few strides. I reached for her hand. “Come on,” I said softly. “Let me walk with you.”

Her eyes were wide as she stared up at me, but she didn’t argue as I gently tugged her to her feet.

I didn’t let go of her hand as we walked to the grand staircase.

On the way to her room, we passed some of Thea’s photography that my mother displayed proudly in the upstairs hallway.

Thea had a passion for the art, and was doing it as part of her college degree.

If she’d been here tonight, I knew she’d have loved listening to Skye’s stories about her job.

My hand tightened around Skye’s as we came upon her room. We stood there for a beat, staring at the closed door like neither of us remembered how to open one.

“Thank you,” Skye whispered.

I wasn’t sure what she was thanking me for, but I nodded anyway.

Slowly, as if moving through sand, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Still, she didn’t move from my side. I held tight to her other hand, dreading the moment when I’d have to let go.

Then, she hastily stepped inside, yanking her hand away.

“Goodnight,” she said, voice tight and strained.

I caught the briefest glimpse of tears.

My chest tightened. She tried to close the door on me, but I blocked it with my foot on instinct. “Hey.” I stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, turning away.

I wedged myself between the door, pulse rising. “Talk to me,” I begged. If she was having another panic attack, I couldn’t leave her alone.

Shaking her head again, she reluctantly met my gaze. Tears streaked down her cheeks, fueling that fear pumping through me.

“Are you—” I stumbled on my words, trying to be mindful of her feelings, but also needing to make sure. “I mean, I want to make sure you’re okay being alone right now.”

She blinked at me, understanding sparking. She wiped at her face with the sleeve of her cardigan. “I’m—I’m fine. It’s just…” Her voice cracked. “I forgot what it was like.”

“Forgot what was like?” I asked gently .

Her chest expanded with a sharp inhale. “Being part of a family. Being taken care of. Being… loved.”

It gutted me. I didn’t even think—I pulled her into my arms. She buried her face in my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. We somehow ended up inside the room; the door softly closing behind us.

“You will always be loved here, Skye,” I whispered. My heart felt like it was swelling and breaking at the same time.

She looked up at me. “Fox, I’m so sorry. Part of me wishes they hated me too, because then maybe it would be easier.”

I knew exactly what she meant. If they hated her, it’d hurt less when it was time for her to go.

I pulled her closer, resting my forehead against hers.

“Skye,” I said, my voice rough with every unshed tear I’d buried for years, “I never hated you. I couldn’t hate you, no matter how hard I tried.

You’re too ingrained in me. It’s like you’re a part of my DNA.

My very soul. There will never be hate in my heart for you. Only love.”

Her eyes widened. Her breath hitched. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

I leaned down, so close my nose brushed hers. “I mean it with every fiber of my being.”

Our breaths mingled, warm and full of everything unsaid. The scent of wine and bourbon lingered. Electricity vibrated through my veins when her stare dropped to my mouth.

“Fox,” she breathed, stealing the last of my oxygen. “I…I—”

But I couldn’t wait.

I took her mouth with mine in a kiss that ignited my very blood. Her lips were soft, but her tongue met mine in a hungry, needy dance.

Control slipped. Reason vanished .

All I knew was I wanted her.

I craved her taste, her warmth, the feel of her skin against mine.

The kiss deepened, desperate and hot, and my hands drifted down her body, memorizing every dip and curve I’d once known like home.

I groaned against her lips, seeing stars as I let myself fall—completely, irrevocably—into her.

Her hands slid beneath my shirt, slow and tentative, and I helped her pull it over my head before drawing her back to me.

She tasted like wine and sadness and something so achingly familiar it undid me.

“Are you sure?” I murmured, my voice raw.

Skye nodded, eyes searching mine as if she were seeking solace, too. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

She wouldn’t be. Not tonight. Not as long as I had breath in my lungs and her heart pressed close to mine.

I didn’t know how we got to the bed.

One second, I was kissing her like I might never get another chance; the next, we were tangled together…limbs and lips and whispered names. The room was quiet, but my pulse thundered in my ears.

Clothes were shed in soft, reverent movements. We paced ourselves, like we needed to savor this fleeting moment. There was nothing rushed about it—only the hush of fabric, the slow discovery of skin we hadn’t touched in years, and relearning a rhythm that had once belonged only to us.

When I sank into her, it wasn’t just physical—it was everything: all the longing, the pain, all the years we’d spent apart while pretending we were fine .

She clung to me like she was afraid I’d disappear. I kissed her like she was the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. I lost myself in every soft sigh, every arch of her body, every whispered gasp of my name.

When we reached that edge—and finally fell—it felt like being made whole.

Later, with her head tucked beneath my chin and my arms wrapped around her, I listened to the sound of her breathing. Her fingers drifted over my chest, tracing the tattoos that branded me too.

I was afraid to move, afraid that once we left this bed, this wholeness would shatter.

And that scared the hell out of me more than anything.

I didn’t want Skye Adler for just a night.

I wanted her forever.