Rose
"can't sleep?" Asher whispered beside me.
The room was still. The kind of still that hums against your skin heavy, charged, and soft all at once. The night outside had gone quiet, the wind pressing gently against the windows like it wanted to listen. My body still hummed, but it wasn't just from what happened; it was from him. The way he looked at me now — eyes burning with something deeper than lust, something close to worship — it did something strange to my heart.
He traced his fingers along my shoulder, slow, careful, like I'd break if he pressed too hard. I've been touched before. I've been desired, claimed, kissed out of hunger and hate — but this? This was different. Asher touched me like I was a secret he wanted to keep. Like every inch of me mattered.
I should have pushed him away. I should have laughed it off, told him he was just another weakness I couldn't afford. But I didn't. I stayed. My body pressed against his, my head resting on his chest, listening to his heart beat steady and strong. It was the kind of sound that made you want to believe that good things still existed.
"Rose," he whispered. Just my name. No plea, no command — just me. And somehow that was enough to make my chest tighten.
I looked up, and for a moment the world stopped spinning. His blue eyes weren't cold anymore — they were soft, tired, real. "You okay?" he asked, thumb brushing the side of my face.
I wanted to laugh. Was I okay? What a stupid question. No one in this was okay. But instead of laughing, I nodded. "Yeah," I whispered. "You?"
He smiled, small and broken. "Getting there."
We didn't talk for a while after that. The silence stretched between us like a thread fragile, golden, real. I traced the faint lines on his arm, the scars, the tattoos I still didn't understand. I wondered what pain carved them there, what ghosts they carried. He had more ghosts than I could count, and somehow, I still wanted to hold them all.
I knew I shouldn't. People like us don't get peace. We steal moments of it, cling to it like it's air, and when it slips away, we bleed quietly and pretend it's fine.
But right now… I wanted this moment to last. Just a few hours of pretending that the world outside didn't exist. That Adrian wasn't out there sharpening his knives. That I wasn't broken beyond repair. That Asher wasn't supposed to be my enemy.
His hand found mine. Our fingers laced together, like a promise neither of us dared to make.
"You shouldn't look at me like that," I murmured.
"Like what?" His voice was a whisper against my hair.
"Like I'm something worth saving."
He shifted, turning slightly so he could look at me fully. "I'm not here to save you Rose."
The words hit harder than I expected. I wanted to argue, to say something cruel, to push him away before I fell even deeper but I didn't. Because deep down, a part of me wanted to believe him.
I pressed my forehead against his chest and closed my eyes. The warmth of his skin seeped into mine, and I felt it the quiet truth of it all. The truth that I was already too far gone.
Because Asher wasn't just a man to me anymore. He was the sound of calm after chaos. He was the reason my rage didn't swallow me whole tonight. He was danger and comfort in the same breath the kind of contradiction I'd kill to keep.
He brushed his hand through my hair, his touch slow, reverent. "You should sleep," he whispered.
"Stay," I breathed.
"I'm not going anywhere."
His words curled around me like a spell. And for the first time in a long time, I believed someone. Maybe that was the real danger not the guns, not Adrian, not the council but this. The way Asher could disarm me without even trying.
I tilted my head slightly, studying his face in the dim light. The bruise on his jaw, the small cut on his knuckle, the tiredness in his eyes. He looked like a man who'd been fighting battles no one saw. Maybe that's why I couldn't bring myself to hate him because I recognized that kind of pain.
"You didn't answer my question earlier," he said softly.
"What question?"
"Why me?"
I smiled faintly. "You think I have a reason?"
He huffed a quiet laugh. "I'd like to believe there is one."
"There isn't," I said, my voice lower now. "You just… happened. And I didn't stop it."
He nodded slowly, like he understood, even if he didn't. He leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead. Just that. A small, soft kiss that said everything we couldn't say out loud.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't safe. It wasn't supposed to be. But it was ours.
For a long time, I lay there, tracing the lines of his tattoos again, trying to memorize them, to read the story they told. Pain. Loss. Guilt. All carved into his skin, all the things he'd never say out loud. I wanted to ask about them, but I didn't. Not tonight.
Tonight wasn't for words.
It was for the quiet between heartbeats. For the warmth of his hand on my waist. For the way he looked at me like I wasn't a monster.
And maybe that's why, as the hours slipped away, something darker stirred inside me. Because I knew this peace wouldn't last. I could feel it the storm brewing under my skin, whispering that I couldn't have this forever. That if I wanted to keep it, I'd have to fight for it. Or destroy everything else first.
I turned my head slightly, looking at him. He'd fallen asleep beside me, one arm still resting around my waist, his breathing deep and even. He looked peaceful. Too peaceful.
My chest tightened.
"I'll protect you," I whispered into the dark. My voice was soft, but there was a steel edge beneath it. "Even if I have to burn the world for it."
My fingers brushed his hair back gently. He didn't stir. He didn't see the promise in my eyes.
The promise that if Adrian or anyone tried to take this away from me, they'd bleed for it.
I smiled faintly to myself, a dangerous, quiet smile. Love, obsession, madness sometimes they're just different shades of the same thing. And maybe I'd already crossed that line.
But as I watched Asher sleep beside me, his chest rising and falling like calm waves, I knew one thing for sure.
I wasn't letting go.
Not of him.
Not ever.
And somewhere deep inside me, in that still, fragile silence something dark began to bloom.