Page 76 of Thunder's Reckoning

She stared at her hands like they didn’t belong to her. “I hate that he still gets in here,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I hate that I can’t stop seeing him even when I sleep.”

I reached for her hand, slow, lettin’ her have the choice. She didn’t pull away.

“Every time I close my eyes,” she went on, her chest rising too fast, “I see the flames. I hear his voice. And I swear I feel his hands—” her breath broke, “—and then I open my eyes and forget where I am.”

I squeezed her hand tighter. “You’re here. With me. He can’t touch you anymore.”

Her eyes met mine, glintin’ in the dim light. There was fear there, yeah, but under it, a spark. Fierce. Alive.

“I know that in my head,” she said. “But I want to feel it in my body.”

I went still. Every muscle tight.

She leaned closer, her voice sure now. “I don’t want him to be the last person who ever touched me. I don’t want his hands to be the only ones my skin remembers.”

My jaw ached from how hard I clenched it. “Sable… you don’t gotta prove a damn thing. Not to me.”

“I’m not.” Her voice was iron now, wrapped in silk. “This isn’t about him. It’s about me. For once, I want something becauseIwant it. Not because I was told. Not because I was forced. Because I choose it.”

Her hand slid up, fingers pressing against my chest, right over the hammer of my heart.

“I choose you.”

Everything in me screamed to back away, be the better man, keep her safe from me, from herself, from this. But she leaned in, lips brushing my jaw, then my mouth, soft at first, but sure. Deliberate.

The restraint I’d been holdin’ onto shredded.

“You sure?” My voice came out rough, like gravel in my throat.

She nodded once, eyes burnin’ into mine. “I’ve never been surer of anything.”

I kissed her slow, careful, like if I pressed too hard she’d vanish. But she didn’t. She kissed me back—hungry, fearless—and that lit a fire I couldn’t put out if I tried.

I pulled her into my lap, her legs slidin’ around me, her body pressed to mine. Warm. Real. Nothin’ like ghosts.

And I let go.

I wanted her. The way she wanted me—open, unafraid.

I wasn’t gonna break her. Hell, she wasn’t breakable. She was survival wrapped in scars and shadows, and she kissed me like a woman takin’ back what was stolen.

And I sure as hell wasn’t about to stop her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

HIS MOUTH WASrough against mine, not cruel,not taking—justreal. Heat poured off him, his chest solid beneath my palms, his heartbeat hammering like it was trying to sync with mine.

For the first time in my life, the touch wasn’t something forced on me. It wasn’t a command, or a punishment, or a test.

It was mine.

I deepened the kiss, pressing harder, wanting to scorch away the ghost hands that lived in my memory. He groaned deep, his grip on my waist tightening as if he couldn’t hold back anymore. I shifted in his lap, the friction making us both gasp. His hand splayed at my back, steadying me, urging me closer.

My legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him tight against me. His hands slid up my thighs, rough and calloused, but when they reached higher, his breath hitched. His palm brushed the scar burned into my chest.

The mark. The ash brand Gabrial had seared into me, his claim, pressed into flesh, meant to last forever.

I stiffened, shame rushing up before I could swallow it down. My breath caught in my throat.