Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

ASH

A sh woke before dawn, the soft light of early morning barely filtering through the curtains of Geneva’s bedroom. He blinked against the dimness, his body still heavy with the warmth of sleep, but his mind already alert. Geneva lay beside him, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her face soft and peaceful in the early light. She looked so different from the fierce, guarded woman she was when awake—vulnerable in a way that stirred something deep inside him. Something protective. Something real.

He let his gaze linger on her, taking in the curve of her lips, the steady rise and fall of her chest. Last night had been… unexpected. The battle against the traffickers had left them both raw and exposed, their emotions as unguarded as their bodies had been during the fight. When they had returned here, to the relative safety of her family’s guest house, the pull between them had become undeniable. And for the first time, Geneva hadn’t fought it.

But as much as Ash wanted to stay, to hold onto this moment for just a little longer, he knew he had to leave. Geneva’s family—her sisters, her aunt—wouldn’t take kindly to him being here. Especially Aunt Maeve. She had no love for demons, and Ash didn’t need to make things harder for Geneva than they already were.

He leaned down, his heart pounding in a way that felt too tender for someone like him, and pressed a soft kiss to Geneva’s temple. Her skin was warm, and her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t wake. For a moment, Ash stayed there, close enough to feel her heartbeat, close enough to wonder what it would be like to stay longer, to wake up next to her without the weight of their secrets pressing down on them.

But reality was already creeping back in. He had to leave before things became even more complicated.

Quietly, he slipped out of the bed, pulling on his clothes with practiced ease, every movement slow and careful so as not to wake her. As he stood in the doorway, he glanced back at her one last time, a mix of emotions pulling at him. He wasn’t used to this—feeling so tied to someone. It made him vulnerable, and that was dangerous. But for Geneva, he was willing to risk it.

With a sigh, Ash slipped out of the cottage and into the cool morning air. The brick courtyard was still empty, the house across from where he’d spent the night with Geneva just beginning to stir, but the quiet was short-lived. As he made his way toward the gate at the front of the house, a figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into his path.

It was Geneva’s Aunt Maeve.

Ash stopped in his tracks, his muscles tensing instinctively. Maeve’s presence wasn’t exactly unexpected, but her timing wasn’t great. She was tall and regal, her long silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Her eyes, sharp and cold, were fixed on him with an intensity that could freeze fire.

"Leaving early, are we?" Maeve’s voice was calm, but there was a thinly veiled disdain in her tone. "I wonder if my niece knows about your habit of sneaking out before the sun rises."

Ash clenched his jaw, keeping his voice level. "I didn’t want her family to deal with the… complications of me being here."

Maeve’s lips curved into a humorless smile. "How considerate of you. But let’s not pretend this is anything more than what it is. You’re half-demon, Ash. Just like the creatures she hunts. I’m sure you understand why I might be… cautious."

He met her gaze steadily. "I understand you don’t like demons. That’s clear. But Gage is half-demon, too. And from what I’ve seen, your family seems to have accepted him."

Maeve’s eyes flickered at the mention of Gage, but her expression remained cool. "Gage is Rougarou—half-wolf shifter, half-demon. That’s not the same as what you are. His bond with Savannah is based on something ancient, something we understand. But you?" She took a step closer, her voice dropping. "What are you really after with Geneva?"

Ash squared his shoulders, refusing to let her intimidate him. "I’m not here to play games, Maeve. I have feelings for your niece, and they’re genuine. She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, and I respect her for it. If you think I’m trying to manipulate her, you’re wrong."

Maeve studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deception. Ash held her gaze, refusing to back down. Whatever Maeve thought of him, he wasn’t going to let her doubts get in the way of what he felt for Geneva. He hadn’t expected to fall for her—not like this—but now that he had, he wasn’t going to deny it.

Finally, Maeve let out a soft, resigned sigh. "Geneva is strong, yes. But she’s also vulnerable in ways she doesn’t show. She carries the weight of our family, and I don’t want to see her hurt. By anyone."

"I’m not here to hurt her," Ash said, his voice firm. "I want to protect her. Whatever happens between us, that won’t change."

Maeve’s eyes softened, just slightly, though the wariness remained. "We’ll see about that." She turned on her heel, her long coat sweeping behind her as she walked away. "Just remember, Ash—if you hurt her, demon or not, I’ll know. And I’ll make sure you regret it."

Ash watched her go, tension thrumming through his veins. He knew Maeve’s threat wasn’t idle, but he didn’t need her warning to remind him what was at stake. Geneva wasn’t just another fleeting connection. She was different.

And for the first time in his life, Ash realized he was willing to fight for more than just survival.

He was willing to fight for her.

T he day had been a blur of tension and unspoken feelings that gnawed at Ash, tugging him deeper into the web of emotions he wasn’t sure how to handle. Every time he thought he could rein himself in, the memory of Geneva—her sharp green eyes, the determination in her voice, and the unwavering compassion that radiated from her—kept pulling him back. She was a force unlike anyone he’d ever met, and it was beginning to unravel something inside him that had been tightly wound for centuries.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she fought with precision and grace, the way she stood firm in her convictions despite the darkness surrounding her. There was a fire in Geneva that he hadn’t seen in anyone else. It both thrilled and terrified him. And as the day wore on, he realized he wanted more than just the occasional fleeting moment with her. He needed to know her better—to understand what made her so different, so… magnetic.

By the time the sun began to set, Ash had made up his mind. He needed to see her again—this time without the looming threat of demons or missions. Just them. Picking up his phone, his fingers lingered for a moment before texting her.

Dinner? No demons, no magic. Just us.

Her reply came quicker than he expected.

When? Where? What Time?

The simplicity of her response brought a smile to his face. He sent the address of a quiet little restaurant on the outskirts of the city, far from the chaos of the French Quarter, hoping it would be enough of an escape for them both.

T he restaurant was dimly lit, with low music and the scent of rich, earthy spices filling the air. Ash sat across from Geneva, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of his glass as he watched her. She seemed more relaxed now than he’d seen her in a while, though there was still that edge of tension in her shoulders, the weight of responsibility she always carried with her.

“So,” Geneva said, breaking the silence as she leaned back in her chair, her green eyes studying him. “Why do I get the feeling you have more on your mind than just dinner?”

Ash chuckled softly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but after everything they had been through and before they went any further, she deserved to know the truth. About him. About his past.

“You’re not wrong,” he admitted, his voice low. He met her gaze, the words heavy on his tongue as he tried to figure out where to begin. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Geneva. Things I haven’t shared with anyone.”

Geneva tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “I’m listening.”

Ash took a deep breath, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I’ve lived for centuries, longer than most half-demons could even imagine. My existence hasn’t been like Gage’s. It hasn’t been about finding a place in the world or struggling to balance my nature. For a long time, I was on the wrong side of things.”

Geneva’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I served demon lords,” Ash continued, the weight of those words hanging between them. “For centuries, I followed their orders without question. I was a weapon, an enforcer, doing their bidding—no matter how cruel or twisted the tasks. It wasn’t until… well, it wasn’t until I began to realize that I was more than just the darkness inside me that I stopped.”

Geneva’s expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt, allowing him to continue.

“There was this moment,” Ash said quietly, his gaze dropping to the table. “Centuries ago. I had been sent to kill a group of humans—innocents, caught in the crossfire of a power struggle between two demon lords. I had done things like that before, without hesitation. But that time… something changed. I couldn’t go through with it. I turned on my master, betrayed him, and I’ve been running ever since.”

He looked up, meeting Geneva’s eyes, feeling exposed in a way he hadn’t expected. “That decision cost me everything. I’ve been hunted, shunned by my own kind, but I’d do it again if it meant not losing what little humanity I have left.”

Geneva sat in silence for a moment, her gaze steady and thoughtful. “That’s why you fight against them now,” she said softly. “You’re trying to make up for what you did.”

Ash nodded. “It’s not about redemption. I know I can’t erase the past. But I’m trying to make sure no one else suffers because of it.”

There was a long pause between them, a quiet understanding passing between their eyes. For the first time in a long while, Ash felt like someone truly saw him—not just the half-demon, not just the fighter, but the man beneath it all. And it terrified him.

Geneva reached across the table, her hand brushing against his. The contact was light, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him. “I believe you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ash exhaled, a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto slipping away. But before either of them could speak again, the moment was shattered by the shrill sound of a text being sent to Geneva’s phone. She glanced down at it, her expression shifting from soft to serious in an instant.

“It’s about the trafficking ring,” she said, her voice tight. “A shipment of supernatural beings is arriving at the port. We need to move.”

The warmth of the evening dissipated, replaced by the cold weight of duty. Ash nodded, the quiet intimacy of their dinner evaporating as reality came crashing back in. They both stood, already slipping back into the roles of warriors, the threat looming large over them.

T he docks were cloaked in darkness, a heavy mist hanging over the water like a shroud. The faint glow of the moon barely pierced the gloom, casting an eerie light on the rows of shipping containers that lined the waterfront. Geneva could feel the tension thrumming in the air, her magic simmering just beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed. Beside her, Ash moved quietly, his blade already in hand, muscles coiled for the inevitable fight.

They approached the containers where the traffickers were said to be holding the captured supernaturals. Every step brought them closer to the heart of the operation, the place where lives had been bought, sold, and broken. Geneva’s pulse quickened, a mix of adrenaline and fear racing through her veins. She exchanged a glance with Ash, the unspoken connection between them a steady presence in the chaos.

But then, the air around them shifted. It grew colder, darker, like a veil of shadow was closing in, suffocating. Geneva’s heart thudded in her chest, and she felt it—an overwhelming presence, thick with malevolence. She glanced at Ash, and from the tension in his face, she knew he felt it too.

Lord Asmodeus.

He materialized from the shadows, his tall, imposing figure cloaked in darkness. His red eyes gleamed with a malevolent fire, and his smile twisted in amusement as he looked down upon them like a predator toying with its prey.

“Well, well,” Asmodeus drawled, his voice oozing with venom, “I knew you’d come crawling back eventually, Ash.”

Geneva’s magic pulsed within her, shimmering faintly around her as she readied herself. The weight of Asmodeus’s power pressed down on them, and she could feel the pull of his dark magic, like a black hole threatening to consume them. She stepped closer to Ash, her wings itching to unfurl, her instincts screaming at her to take flight.

Ash’s grip on his blade tightened, every muscle in his body tensed as he positioned himself between Geneva and Asmodeus. “I’m not here for you, Asmodeus,” Ash growled. “Let them go.”

Asmodeus laughed, a dark, chilling sound that echoed through the empty docks. “You think you can save them?” His gaze shifted to Geneva, his smile widening with cruel amusement. “Or her?”

Without thinking, Ash lunged, his blade aimed for Asmodeus’s heart. But the demon lord was faster, deflecting the blow with a flick of his hand. A blast of dark energy sent Ash crashing to the ground, pain ripping through his body.

“Ash!” Geneva cried, but before she could move, Asmodeus turned his attention fully on her.

The air crackled with magic, and Geneva’s instincts roared to life. Her wings unfurled in a rush of glowing fae energy, the translucent green shimmer of them cutting through the darkness. She called on her magic, her fingertips crackling with light, ready to strike.

“You can’t save her, Ash,” Asmodeus hissed, his voice low and mocking. “But you can still come back to me. One word is all it takes.”

Ash, gritting his teeth against the pain, forced himself to his feet. His eyes met Geneva’s, desperation flickering behind the rage. He knew Asmodeus’s power all too well, but he also knew there was no going back. Not after everything. Not after her.

Geneva could see the conflict in his eyes, but she wasn’t about to wait. With a surge of energy, she lifted off the ground, her wings propelling her upward. “I’ll get to the containers,” she shouted down to Ash, the wind whipping around her as she flew higher. “I’ll let them out.”

“Go!” Ash urged, blocking another strike from Asmodeus’s dark magic. “I’ll hold him off.”

Geneva’s wings unfurled and she soared above the demons that had begun to swarm the docks, their twisted forms snarling as they caught sight of her. Her heart raced, but the surge of freedom that came with flying, with the wind rushing past her, gave her the clarity she needed. Below her, Ash fought with deadly precision, parrying Asmodeus’s attacks while keeping the lesser demons at bay.

Leaving Ash to deal with the traffickers, Geneva approached the containers, each one a prison for the captured supernaturals. She could feel the magical wards around them, crackling with dark energy, but she pushed forward, her fae magic burning in her veins.

As she reached the first container, Geneva hovered above it, her wings glowing brighter as she called on her power. She extended her hand, magic crackling from her fingertips, and began to unravel the wards. The container groaned as the locks broke free, and with a final burst of energy, the doors swung open.

Inside, a group of supernaturals—mostly demons, some fae, and a few shifters—stared up at her in shock and fear.

“Go! You’re free!” Geneva shouted, her voice carrying over the roar of the fight between Ash and the demons. “Run!”

The supernaturals hesitated only for a moment before scrambling out of the container, rushing toward the safety of the night. As they passed her, she noted similar markings on all of them—almost like tattoos but raised and pulsing. Geneva glanced toward Ash who seemed to be holding his own and giving her the time she needed. She didn’t stop, moving to the next container, her magic slicing through the wards with precision. One by one, she broke the chains that held them captive, each freed prisoner dashing away without so much as a thank you… and each one bearing the same markings.

Below her, the battle raged on. Asmodeus’s dark magic tore through the docks, his fury unleashed as he realized the prisoners were escaping. Ash fought like a man possessed, his blade flashing in the dim light, cutting down any demon that dared approach him. But Geneva could see the strain in his movements, the way the relentless attacks were wearing him down.

She couldn’t leave him to face this alone. She glanced at the remaining containers. There were too many for her to get to, and if she didn’t go to his aide, Ash could be killed. With one last burst of energy, Geneva opened another container, freeing those inside. Then she turned, her wings carrying her back toward Ash. He was locked in a vicious battle with Asmodeus, the air crackling with dark energy. Geneva’s heart raced as she swooped down, landing beside him just in time to deflect a blow aimed at his back.

“We need to go,” she panted, her magic shimmering around them as she threw up a barrier against Asmodeus’s attack. “We’ve freed most of them, but we can’t win this fight.”

Ash nodded, his chest heaving with effort. “You’re right. We’re not ready for him.”

As they turned to leave, Asmodeus sent a blast of dark magic at her, but it never connected. Ash had moved between her and Asmodeus, shielding her. He’d protected her without so much as a second thought. She had felt the strength of Ash’s power, the raw force of his demon side that he always kept restrained coming to the fore to ensure her safety.

Together, they moved, Geneva’s wings lifting her just above the ground as they retreated from the docks. Behind them, Asmodeus’s laughter echoed in the night, dark and malevolent, promising that this was far from over. It was as if he had allowed them their little victory—perhaps to see how strong they were individually and as a team.

But for now, they had won and at least some of the prisoners were free.

As they fled into the night, Ash knew that this was only the beginning. And that by saving her, he had drawn a line in the sand, drawing them both deeper into a game far more dangerous than either of them had ever anticipated.