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I hear him before I see him and I feel my anger rise to seemingly impossible levels. He’s alive but he lied. He’s safe but he didn’t trust me. He’s OK but he put himself and half the team in danger just to protect me.
I jog down the stairs and duck into one of the storage chambers, knowing that he’ll pass this way on his way up. He is laughing but his voice is huskier than normal, and the way he sharply inhales makes me think that he’s in some kind of pain. He’s one floor below me. Two of the people he’s with peel off, then three. Hunter is the last one to leave. “She’s gonna be pissed, man, you know that.” “I know.”
Kian is many things, but he’s never oblivious. I can hear his footsteps better now, and can smell smoke and dirt on him. His hair is wet but there’s a strong chemical scent that I don’t recognize. Where has he been? What has he been doing? Why would he keep me in the dark nearly a month with no word?
He’s on the hallway now, wearing the boots we pulled off of a body in the last skirmish. He walks slower. Good. 30 feet. 20. 10.
Kian
Out of nowhere the door to my right flies open and I am knocked off balance; pulled into the darkness. I scramble for my knife, the lights, anything I can use to defend myself. But I recognize the hands over my mouth just as I flip open my knife. “Ash, listen, I-”
“No.”
My wife stands in front of me, illuminated only by the dim, red, overhead emergency lights. Her body shakes but her voice is firm. Her eyes sparkle and I don’t know why, but I get the sense of fear from her, something I’ve never noticed before.
“You…” she pauses, her eyes searching mine frantically, her fingers crushing each other into fists. Her clothes are wrinkled like she’s slept in them and her feet are bare, her hair pulled back tightly from her face. There are bags under her eyes and she’s unsteady on her feet. She’s exhausted.
“I was wrong to leave.” I blurt this out and grimace. Hunter and I had talked about how this conversation should go and this wasn’t it. Ascha stands in front of me, her eyes still sparkling and her body still shaking. I move towards her and she moves back. “Ash I’m sorry,” I say again, stepping towards her. She is up to the wall now and shaking her head over and over, muttering something. “What?” I say gently. “You didn’t tell me!”
Ascha screams those four words at me and I take small steps towards her, my hands up until I am close enough to reach for her. “Ash please.” She shakes her head faster, and she is trembling. I reach for her waist and she slaps my hand away. My skin stings. Her eyes widen. She knows she’s hurt me. I reach for her again. This time both hands come at me and she slaps at me as I wrap my arms around her.
“Ash stop! I left - I’m sorry! I didn’t tell you - I’m sorry! I didn’t want you to know so you wouldn’t get hurt - it was wrong and I’M SORRY.” My voice is raised but I don’t yell. She’s scratched me but I don’t care. She is sobbing and shaking and sorry and angry and kissing me over and over again.
Ascha
Kian holds me tight to him and I can’t breathe. He doesn’t let go until the attack has stopped and then he kisses me so gently it’s like I can’t breathe all over again. He’s lost some weight and his hair is tangled but he’s unhurt, save a few bruises. His skin still tastes like water and smoke and his eyes still only light up for me.
He hasn’t changed.
My veins flood with adrenaline as he presses me up against the wall - his hands are in my hair and suddenly his shirt is gone and I am naked and he is locking the door. I cry as he just holds me and kisses me and touches me and he does too. He is gentle but firm and I can’t begin to describe how much I love him. We stop to kiss and move and kiss again and I keep my eyes open so I can watch him. I’m still angry. I still think what he did was stupid. But I know he did it because he loves me. And the voices in my head can’t convince me otherwise - not tonight.
But the way he holds me… firm on my hips, light on my waist, tight all over my body like he’s never going to let me go, no matter how many times I try to push him away. I love the way his face shines with sweat as he kisses me and the way he gauges me before moving or pressing against me harder. His hair dips just below his eyes and melds with my eyelashes when he leans over me and I breathe in each second of him like I’ll never get another, ever.
Kian
She is still smooth. And effortless. Her body is all curves even after everything it’s been through. She messes with my hair and wraps her arms around my back, pulling me closer before arching her back and making a noise that both destroys and builds me. She is so powerful. My skin still stings from her scratch just as my mind still does from everything about her. I’ve said before that Ascha is a drug. I’m addicted and I don’t care who knows.
The way she holds on to me - gripping and grasping and always changing, like she can’t figure out how best to tell my body to get closer to hers but maybe if she tries it this way I’ll never leave. I am out of breath and out of ideas and out of strength and I let myself fall onto her. She cradles my head and combs through my hair with her fingers and red-hot blood races through me at her touch. She kisses my face, my cheeks, my hair, my ears, my neck, my collarbone, my chest, my scar, my jaw, my chin. And I feel sorry for those who’ll never get to have someone like this. I feel sorry for myself before I realized how much she is. I feel sorry for her - how long she’s waited to find someone to love her, and how long it took for her to love herself.
After, she lies on top of me as I try to breathe. She kisses my body slowly, breathing heavily; I am spent - I have only the energy enough to grip her body as close to mine as possible. She looks into my eyes, trailing her fingers over my chest before resting her head on it. She breathes deeply; once, twice, three dozen times, eventually falling asleep in my arms. It’s the last thing I remember before I wake up two hours later, realize we’re still in the closet, and half drag, half carry her to my bed.