A FIRE THAT CAN'T BE PUT OUT

Cassian’s lips were fire, searing and relentless as they claimed mine. There was no hesitation, no restraint—just pure hunger, wild and unhinged.

I clung to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, dragging him impossibly closer even as the forest raged around us. The Deadwood whispered, but its voice was a distant echo, drowned out by the pounding of my heartbeat.

Nothing else mattered.

Just this.

Just him.

Cassian’s hands gripped my waist, strong and possessive, pulling me flush against his body. His fingers dug in slightly, as if he needed to feel me, to prove that this was real.

I gasped into his mouth, and he took the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees weak.

I should have been thinking.

About the forest. About the danger. About how Cassian was supposed to be the one keeping me safe, not the one setting me on fire.

But all I could think about was the way he touched me, the way his breath hitched when I bit his lower lip, the low growl that rumbled from his chest when I pressed closer.

I wasn’t the only one losing control.

That thought sent a sharp thrill through me.

Cassian—always controlled, always disciplined—was unraveling.

And I was the reason.

His fingers curled around my jaw, tilting my head back as he kissed me deeper, harder. He wasn’t just kissing me—he was staking his claim, as if this had always been inevitable, as if he had been waiting for me to push him too far.

And I had.

I had shoved him over the edge.

And now I was falling with him.

My body burned, every nerve alight with something I didn’t understand but didn’t want to stop. I could have kissed him forever.

Until, suddenly, Cassian ripped himself away.

The loss of him was like being doused in cold water.

I swayed slightly, my lips swollen, my breath ragged.

Cassian stood in front of me, his chest rising and falling sharply, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes—red, burning—locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach tighten.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, his voice—low and raw—broke the silence.

“I can’t.”

The words slammed into me, sharp and unforgiving.

I blinked, my heart still pounding. “What?”

Cassian exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this.”

A sudden, sharp ache bloomed in my chest. “Cassian.”

“This was a mistake,” he cut in, his voice tight, as if he were barely holding himself together.

I flinched.

Mistake.

That word felt like a slap.

My lips parted, but no words came.

Cassian wouldn’t look at me. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the ground, his entire body tense.

The man who had just kissed me like he was starving was now acting like he regretted it.

Something sharp lodged itself in my throat.

I forced my voice to stay steady. “You didn’t seem to think it was a mistake a minute ago.”

His head snapped up.

For the first time, I saw true conflict in his expression.

“Sienna…” His voice was softer now, but that didn’t make it any better.

I shook my head. “Don’t.”

Because I already knew what he was going to say.

I stepped back, my hands clenching into fists to keep them from shaking.

Cassian’s gaze darkened. “I told you not to push me.”

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’re blaming me for this?”

His lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m blaming both of us.”

“That’s cowardly.” The words were out before I could stop them.

Cassian stiffened. “Excuse me?”

I swallowed hard. “You want me. You know you do. But you’re so determined to pretend it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t.”

The lie hung between us.

For a second, I just stared at him. At the way his fists clenched, the way his chest still rose and fell unevenly, the way his lips were still swollen from mine.

And I knew.

I knew that if I stepped forward again, if I touched him, if I said the right words, he would break.

But I was tired of chasing something he would just run from.

So I stepped back.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

Cassian’s jaw ticked, like he wanted to say something else.

But he didn’t.

He just turned.

And walked away.

I didn’t speak to him for hours.

Cassian didn’t try to break the silence.

We kept moving, navigating through the darkened trees, the whispers of the Deadwood fading into the background compared to the weight between us.

The air was thick. Unspoken words coiled like a storm between us, ready to break at any moment.

But I was done being the one to break first.

If Cassian wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, that it hadn’t meant anything—fine.

Let him.

But I felt it.

And I knew he did too.

It was only when the forest began to shift around us again that the tension snapped.

Cassian suddenly stopped. “Wait.”

I halted beside him. “What.”

Then, I felt it.

The air grew thicker, almost suffocating.

The trees moved. Not from the wind.

They moved.

Cassian’s hand flew to his weapon.

I barely had time to react before something rushed toward us from the darkness.

I didn’t see it.

I just felt the force of it slamming into me.

Cassian cursed, reaching for me.

But I was already being pulled away.

The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was Cassian’s face.

And the raw, unfiltered panic in his eyes.