Celeste had never been to Jase's house before. She knew he had moved to Alas alone and had caught small details through passing conversations, a late night reading by the window, a well-stocked kitchen, the rooftop where he watched the stars. But she had never stepped into his world, a place untouched by war, duty, or expectation. Tonight, that was about to change.
The streets were quiet, the air cool and fresh. Walking side by side to his small house tucked in a secluded corner, Celeste felt warmth spreading through her, not from the night air, but from the weight of the moment itself.
Jase's house suited him. From the outside, it was understated but strong, dark stone and sleek wooden accents giving it a quiet elegance, a place that didn't demand attention but still carried presence. There was no grand entrance, no unnecessary details, only a sense of quiet security, like it had always been meant to be his. And yet, standing here now, Celeste realized it wasn't just a house.
It was home.
Jase pulled out his keys, the metal glinting under the soft glow of the streetlamp. With an easy motion, he unlocked the door and pushed it open before stepping aside, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable as he met her gaze. "After you," he murmured, voice smooth, effortless but there was something in it, something quieter beneath the words.
Celeste hesitated for half a second, then stepped inside.
And the moment she did, she felt him everywhere.
The air smelled of cedar and faintly of storm-touched energy. The space reflected Jase, simple and refined. Dark wood floors stretched across the room, with leather seating, a throw on the couch, and books on a low table.
She turned, finding him watching her carefully, almost like he was waiting for her reaction, waiting to see what she thought, waiting to know if this, this, meant something to her the way it did to him.
She met his gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It suits you."
Jase let out a soft breath, something easing in his stance, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. "Yeah?"
Celeste nodded, stepping further inside, letting herself take it all in, letting herself belong here for just a moment. "Yeah."
She walked further in, her fingers trailing lightly along the edge of a bookshelf near the entrance, the rich scent of old paper and leather filling the quiet space. Books, lots of them. Some stood neatly arranged, their spines untouched and pristine, while others were worn, their leather covers cracked from years of being read and reread, the pages likely marked with notes in the margins. Her gaze traced over them, lingering on the ones that seemed the most used with their spines creased, the covers slightly bent, as if they had been gripped too tightly in long, sleepless nights.
Jase stood behind her, silent, watching.
She didn't have to turn around to feel the quiet intensity of his gaze, the way his presence always seemed to shift the very air around her, heavier in the best way, charged with something she could never quite name. Finally, she exhaled and turned, offering him a small smile.
"I like it," she said softly.
Jase smirked, stepping forward. Too close.
"Good," he murmured, his voice smooth, teasing. "Because I was planning to keep you here forever."
Celeste rolled her eyes, but her heart skipped at the teasing lilt in his voice, the way his golden gaze seemed to gleam with amusement like he was daring her to challenge him, to see just how serious he was.
Then she froze.
Because Jase had stepped closer.
And now he was right behind her, his body barely inches from hers, the warmth of him seeping into her skin even without contact. Her breath stilled, her entire body attuned to every small movement, every shift in the space between them.
His hands came to rest lightly on her waist, his fingertips grazing the fabric of her dress with slow, maddening ease, his touch was neither possessive nor hesitant but just deliberate. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. The warmth of his breath brushed against her ear, sending a slow shiver down her spine, and she hated the way her body responded before her mind even caught up.
"Make yourself at home, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice lower now, deeper, and utterly dangerous.
Celeste shivered.
"Jase."
"Hmm?"
His fingers trailed along her hip, slow, teasing, intentional.
Celeste sucked in a sharp breath, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. He was doing this on purpose.
"You're impossible," she muttered, but the words lacked any real bite, and they both knew it.
Jase chuckled, the sound rich and far too pleased with himself, his lips brushing just beneath her ear. Not quite a kiss. Not quite not.
"Maybe."
Celeste squeezed her eyes shut for a second. He is enjoying this way too much.
Determined not to let him win whatever silent game he was playing, she turned in his arms, refusing to let him corner her so easily. But the moment she faced him, the moment her hands pressed lightly against his chest, she regretted it.
Because Jase was already looking at her.
Golden eyes half-lidded, dark and unreadable, his smirk softening into something deeper. And he wasn't stepping back. His hands stayed on her waist, firm and steady, as if she belonged there, as if she had always belonged there. His fingers curled just slightly, pulling her a fraction closer, his warmth wrapping around her in a way that made her heart hammer against her ribs.
Celeste's breath caught, warmth rushing to her cheeks, her mind scrambling for something or anything to say. "Jase…" she tried again, though she wasn't even sure what she was going to say.
But then he smirked.
A slow, lazy smirk that was pure trouble.
"I'll behave," he murmured, not sounding convincing at all. Then before she could protest, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips warm, lingering just long enough to wreck her entirely.
Celeste swore she felt her entire face burn.
Before she could even recover, Jase pulled back slightly, not enough to let go, but enough to tilt his head, his lips hovering just above hers.
Her pulse pounded, her hands pressing more insistently against his chest, as if that would actually stop him from closing the distance if he really wanted to. He was so warm. So close. His breath brushed against her lips, and she swore he was drawing this out on purpose, waiting for her to break first, to lean in, to give in to the tension between them.
"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured.
Celeste was not relaxing.
Especially not when his thumb traced slow circles against her hip, as if he wasn't already wrecking her with his mere presence.
"I hate you," she muttered, voice slightly shaky.
Jase laughed, the sound low and utterly amused. "No, you don't."
Celeste huffed, tearing herself out of his grip before she actually did something reckless.
Jase let her go barely but his smirk only deepened, his golden eyes gleaming like he had won exactly what he wanted.
Celeste turned her back on him, mostly to hide the fact that she was still blushing furiously, still feeling the heat of his touch on her skin.
She was in so much trouble.
*****
That night, they sat on the couch with warm tea while the world outside grew quiet. The fire glowed softly. The room smelled of tea and wood, and beneath it all was him. His steady presence had become familiar to Celeste, something she now felt as part of her life.
She held her cup close, fingers curled around the ceramic, the warmth seeping into her skin. But her mind wasn't on the tea.
She stared into the dark liquid, her thoughts drifting to something she tried to avoid.
Jase noticed immediately.
"You've been thinking about something."
His voice was soft, a quiet observation rather than a question, but there was something in his tone that told her he wasn't going to let it go.
Celeste hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her cup. For a moment, she debated brushing it off, offering some vague reassurance, pretending it was nothing. But with Jase, that never worked. He saw through her, cut past the walls she tried to build, always had.
So, she spoke.
"My parents."
Jase's gaze sharpened, the casual ease in his posture shifting into something more focused. He didn't press, didn't push her to say more, but the way he set his cup down on the coffee table, turning fully toward her, told her that he was listening, that he was here, ready to hold whatever it was she needed to say.
"Tell me."
Celeste exhaled slowly, curling her fingers tighter around her cup, the words forming carefully on her tongue before she let them slip into the open air.
"I've been thinking about who they were. How they met. What they were like."
She lifted her gaze then, searching his golden eyes, as if he held the answers she had been yearning for her entire life. As if, somehow, he could fill in the spaces that had always felt too empty, too distant, too lost.
"I wish I could know more about them."
Jase didn't speak right away. He just held her gaze, steady and unwavering, as if weighing what to say, how much to give her. There was something in his expression, something quiet but sure, something undeniably Jase.
Then without a word, he stood up.
Celeste's pulse quickened as she watched him cross the room. He made his way to a small drawer near the bookshelf, fingers brushing over the handle before pulling it open.
Her breath hitched slightly, anticipation curling in her chest, pressing against her ribs.
She didn't know what he was looking for.
But something in her knew whatever it was, it mattered.
Jase pulled something out small and delicate. And then he handed it to her.
It was an old photograph.
Celeste's breath caught as she reached for it, her fingers trembling, her heart racing. The edges were worn but cared for, marked by years of being held and kept. It had not been forgotten. When she looked at the image, her vision blurred, her throat tightened, and a sharp ache filled her chest, stealing her breath.
A man and woman stood together with a toddler. They were young, happy, and so clearly in love.
The man had golden eyes, sharp but kind, much like Jase's. Even in the photo, he seemed strong and gentle. The woman beside him had soft features, brown hair, and warm, bright eyes. They stood close, angled toward each other, their closeness speaking of a bond that could not be broken.
Celeste's throat tightened.
"This is them?" she whispered, her voice barely more than air.
Jase nodded, his voice quieter than before, as if he understood exactly what this moment meant. "I found this photo. They are your parents, Lucian and Evelyne."
Celeste traced a finger over the image, taking in every detail. Her father's arm rested close behind her mother, protective even in stillness. Her mother's smile reached her eyes, full of quiet happiness. Celeste had spent her life trying to imagine them from fragments and untold stories. Now they were real, right in front of her.
She swallowed, emotions knotting thick in her chest. "What were they like?" she asked softly, almost afraid of the answer, as if knowing too much might make her ache more, might deepen the hollow space in her heart where they should have been.
Jase leaned back slightly, his golden eyes distant, thoughtful. "I heard from my father that he was different from most Luminaries. He really cared and protected the Mortalis wholeheartedly. He had this… calm confidence about him. He didn't believe in rules just for the sake of them."
Jase's voice dipped slightly, something unreadable flickering across his expression, something heavy with meaning. "He loved your mother. He never regretted choosing her."
Celeste's eyes burned.
She pressed her lips together, swallowing hard against the emotion building in her chest. "I wish I had met them."
Jase watched her for a moment, his gaze steady, unwavering, as if he was seeing through her, seeing the ache she didn't have the words for. And then, with a slow, careful motion, he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch featherlight and deliberate. "You did," he said softly, his voice warm, certain. "They live in you, Celeste."
Celeste blinked rapidly, struggling to push back the wave of emotion that threatened to spill over, her fingers tightening around the photograph as if holding it closer might somehow bring them closer too.
Jase reached for her hand then, his grip gentle but firm, and slowly, he closed her fingers over the image, sealing it into her grasp.
"Keep it," he said. "It belongs to you."
Celeste swallowed the lump in her throat and held the photo to her chest, as if it could close the distance between past and present, between longing and memory, between who she was and where she came from.
Then she looked at Jase.
The warmth in his gaze and the steady way he sat beside her was too much. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding on as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded.
He let out a soft breath before his arms came around her, strong and sure. He rested his chin on her head and held her just right, as if he had been waiting for this. The warmth of his embrace grounded her. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. He just held her, and that was enough.
They stayed like that for a long time, silent and holding onto something unspoken but unbreakable.
As the night stretched on, Celeste found herself curled up against Jase on the couch, her body melting into the warmth of his presence. It was effortless, the way they fit together, the way his touch was steady and reassuring, the way his fingers moved absently through her hair, slow and lulling. She sighed, pressing her cheek lightly against his shoulder, letting herself sink deeper into the quiet comfort of him.
"Are you tired?" Jase murmured, his voice low and soothing, like a lullaby meant only for her.
Celeste nodded, barely moving, her head resting heavier on his shoulder. The steady rise and fall of his breath felt safe, making it easy to let go. For the first time in a long while, she was not bracing for what came next. She simply rested.
Jase exhaled softly and shifted slightly. Then, without warning, he moved.
"Come on," he said, effortlessly scooping her into his arms.
Celeste startled, her eyes snapping open in shock. "Jase!"
He barely glanced down at her, his lips twitching in amusement. "What?"
"You—put me down!" she stammered, her entire body tensing as warmth flooded her face, creeping all the way to the tips of her ears. She squirmed, completely aware of how effortlessly he was carrying her, how his arms were firm but careful, as if he was holding something infinitely precious.
Jase only grinned, adjusting his hold with maddening ease, as though carrying her was the easiest thing in the world. "You're comfortable, aren't you?"
"That's not the point!" she huffed, her fingers gripping his shirt.
"It's my point," he teased, his voice rich with mischief, his golden eyes practically glowing with amusement.
Celeste groaned, covering her face with her hands, utterly mortified. "I can walk, you know," she muttered, her voice muffled against her palms as if she could somehow will herself out of this embarrassment.
Jase chuckled, the sound deep and warm, far too pleased with himself. "I know," he said, his tone filled with that maddening ease he always carried. "But this is more fun."
She peeked up at him, eyes narrowing. "For who?"
His smirk widened. "For me."
Celeste scowled, but it was hard to stay annoyed. Her heart raced as he held her with easy strength, careful and sure. She relaxed despite herself, aware of how close they were, of his warm, familiar scent.
Soon they were in his room, the space quiet and intimate. He set her down on the bed gently, his touch lingering just long enough to make her breath catch.
Before she could steady herself, he crouched in front of her, his golden gaze soft and unsettling.
"Stay."
It wasn't a question or a demand. It was quiet and certain, and it made her chest tighten. She hesitated, fingers gripping the blanket, torn between pulling away and staying. She should have resisted, but when Jase's fingers brushed her arm, light and gentle warmth spread through her. At that moment, she knew.
She didn't want to leave.
Not tonight. Not when, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she had finally found home.
Slowly, she nodded.
Jase smiled softly, warmth in his eyes meant only for her. He didn't speak or tease. He simply pulled the blanket over her and tucked it around her with quiet care. The small gesture made her chest ache. Somehow, the way he looked after her made her feel safe in a way she hadn't realized she was missing.
Then, without a word, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his breath a soft whisper against her skin.
"Sleep, sweetheart," he murmured, the words low, soothing, filled with something unspoken but unmistakable. "I've got you."
Celeste closed her eyes, warmth pooling deep in her chest, the steady rhythm of his presence wrapping around her like a promise.