Page 82 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)
Kiera
T he moonlight filters through the tall windows, casting silver patterns across our tangled bodies. Wild’s breathing has evened out, but he’s not asleep—his hand traces lazy circles on my hip. Blade’s arm tightens around both of us, pulling us closer against his chest.
Ours.
The word still echoes in my mind, but now it carries weight beyond the physical. What we just shared wasn’t just sex—it was a claiming. A promise we made with our bodies, and more than that too.
For years, I’ve lived in the spaces between things.
Between life and death in my work. Between love and survival with Blade.
Between justice and vengeance with Wild.
But lying here, skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat, there are no spaces.
No gaps. Just wholeness I never thought possible.
The scars on my body tell stories. Each mark is a lesson in pain, in survival, in the cost of staying alive.
But their hands trace those same scars like they’re reading poetry, like my damage is something beautiful instead of shameful.
When was the last time someone looked at me and saw completeness instead of broken pieces held together by will and spite?
“This changes everything,” I whisper into the comfortable silence.
Wild’s fingers still against my skin. Blade’s breathing catches. Both are listening, waiting. They know me well enough to recognize when I’m about to say something that matters.
“I mean it,” I continue, propping myself up so both their faces are visible in the moonlight.
The movement makes me aware of the tender ache between my thighs, the lingering heat where their hands and mouths claimed me.
“What just happened... what we are... this isn’t temporary.
And it isn’t just about surviving Zephyr or any other threat. ”
Wild pushes up on his elbow, wincing slightly as his wound pulls. The bandage is white against his tanned skin, a reminder of how close we came to losing each other tonight. His eyes are serious, intent, and I see the moment he realizes what I’m building toward.
“What are you saying, Kiera?”
The magnitude of what I’m about to say tightens my chest. “I choose you. Both of you. Not just for tonight, not just until the danger passes. I choose this—us—until we’re all dead.”
The words hang in the air like an irrevocable vow. Blade’s hand finds my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. The same hands that have dealt death without hesitation treat me like spun glass.
“You’re sure?” His voice is rough with emotion, years of abandonment and betrayal making him need confirmation. “Because I’m never letting either of you go.”
The promise in his words should terrify me. Should trigger every instinct I’ve honed to stay independent, to keep escape routes open. Instead, it settles into my bones like coming home.
Leaning into his touch, I reach for Wild’s hand with my free one, anchoring myself between them.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
I’ve spent years building walls, keeping people out, surviving alone.
But I don’t want to just survive anymore.
I want to live. And I want to live with both of you. ”
The admission is like exhaling after holding my breath for decades. I’ve been so focused on enduring, on making it through each day, I forgot what it felt like to want something beyond simple existence.
Wild brings my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. The gesture is tender, reverent, so different from the desperate hunger that consumed us earlier.
“The woman who saved two boys in the rain, who loves a ferret more than most people, who turns death into art...” His voice drops to barely above a whisper. “That’s who I fell in love with. All of her. Every beautiful, dangerous piece.”
His words hit me like absolution. He’s seen me at my worst: covered in blood, lost in rage, wielding death like other people wield paintbrushes. He’s seen the monster I become when pushed too far, and he calls it beautiful. Calls me beautiful.
“And the man who threw away his career to protect me, who calls my darkness beautiful...” My gaze holds steady on his, refusing to look away from the intensity there. “That’s who I choose. That’s who I love.”
The word ‘love’ feels foreign and natural all at once. I’ve said it so rarely, meant it even less. But looking at Wild—this man who corrupted everything he was for me, who bled for me, who chose me over duty and honor—what’s between us is inevitable.
Turning to Blade, the vulnerability he tries to hide behind his strength is naked in his eyes. My husband. My first love. The man who taught me that touch could heal instead of hurt, that someone could see my damage and choose to stay anyway.
“And you. The boy who saved me when I was seventeen, the man who came back for me, who built us a home even when he thought I’d betrayed him...” My voice breaks slightly, emotion overwhelming the careful control I usually maintain. “You’re my past, my present, and my future. You’re home.”
Blade’s control cracks, and tears threaten at the corners of his eyes. I’ve seen him kill without hesitation, face down threats that would terrify most people, but this—this raw honesty between us—breaks down his walls.
“Kiera...”
“I love you both,” I say firmly, the words coming from the deepest part of my soul. From the place that survived foster care and abuse and years of learning love was a luxury I couldn’t afford. “I want both of you. I need both of you. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”
The silence that follows is profound. Not empty, but full: charged with possibility and promise and the weight of words that can’t be taken back. We’ve crossed a line tonight, moved from survival to choice, from need to want. From broken people seeking shelter to something solid and real.