Pokémon Legendary: An Adult Pokémon Story
Copyright© 2025 by Subconscious_P
Chapter 7
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 7 - An adult semi-erotic Pokémon story set in a more realistic and brutal Pokémon world. Follow a Pokémon Region Champion as he and his rivals race to unlock the secrets of Legendary and mythical Pokémon while facing an unknown threat unlike anything he's faced before. Our champion and rivals will put their lives on the line as they face lethal puzzles, god-tier Pokemon, a deadly stalker, an evil alliance, and the the most powerful trainers in the world.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Fan Fiction Cheating Polygamy/Polyamory Interracial Black Male White Female Hispanic Female Oral Sex Public Sex
Far below the ocean’s surface, where sunlight never touched, a fortress of steel and glass slept in the dark. Its corridors thrummed faintly with power, the pressure of the sea groaning against its reinforced bulkheads. Great shadows glided past the outer windows, Gyarados, Wailord, Tentacruel, circling the base like sentinels.
Inside, a high-ranking officer jogged through the hallways, boots striking the grated floor in sharp rhythm. He passed research bays where scientists hunched over glowing consoles, eyes fixed on monitors displaying streams of data like seismic readings, satellite feeds, and grainy images of legendary Pokémon. Elsewhere, soldiers in black uniforms marched their patrol routes, rifles slung across their shoulders. None dared slow him.
At last, the officer reached a towering double door. Hydraulic locks hissed as it parted, admitting him into the command bridge. The chamber spread wide and tall, lined with projection screens that painted the walls with maps, energy readouts, and shifting schematics. Dozens of officers and crew bent to their stations, but none looked comfortable. The tension in the air was palpable — because of the figure standing at the far end of the bridge.
He stood with his back turned, silent and unmoving while gazing out the panoramic glass at the vast dark ocean. His cloak, black with faint crimson accents, swept the floor like a shadow. The faint glint of metal caught in the low light near his hand, a cane, perhaps, but no one dared ask.
The officer slowed, then dropped to one knee, breath hitching. “My Lord.”
The figure didn’t move. His voice came low, calm, and ominous. “What news do you bring?”
The officer swallowed, exhaling a shaky breath. “Our strike team sent to acquire the Pokémon in Snowpoint ... was unsuccessful.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. Not even the consoles beeped.
“My Lord?” the officer ventured, as if unsure he had been heard.
At last, the superior spoke. “Your task force failed at the Split-Decision Temple. Now you tell me they have failed again at Snowpoint...” His voice sharpened like a blade’s edge. “How many times must I endure your incompetence?”
“My Lord ... please understand,” the captain stammered, bowing his head lower. “They encountered resistance far beyond—”
“The only thing I need to understand, Captain,” the superior cut him off, voice rising, “is that I cannot rely on you or your men to execute my orders. Which means...” He turned slowly, the dim light revealing his face at last. His pale skin contrasted with the large red visor over his right eye. His left eye stared like cold steel, while his black and brown wrapped tightly around him leaving just enough opening for his left arm to hold his steel cane. “ ... I am forced to consider alternatives.”
The captain’s throat tightened. “My Lord, we can still obtain the Titans. Let me mobilize more men, more resources—”
“Enough!” The word cracked like a whip, freezing the bridge. “The Titans were merely a means to an end. Our goal can still be reached without them. Our weapon is nearly complete, and when it is, the path to the divine will lie open and unchallenged.”
The captain lowered his eyes, trembling. He had seen fragments of the schematics, the vast silhouettes and designs too large to fathom, but he dared not question aloud.
He forced his voice steady. “How may I serve you, my Lord?”
His superior stepped closer, disdain curling his lips. “First,” his Lord continued, “activate the charges in your men’s heads that were arrested at Snowpoint. They’ve outlived their usefulness. Dispose of them.”
The captain’s heart lurched. He hesitated only a second before bowing deeper. “Yes, my Lord. It will be done.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across the superior’s scarred face, more chilling than anger. “Then prepare my transport. It is time I retrieved our ... special guests.”
The captain’s mouth went dry. He knew who that meant. He bowed again, low enough that his forehead nearly touched the steel floor.
“At once, my Lord.”
The holo-caster hummed in Oak’s lab, its light spilling across the table where Ace, Phoebe, and Phillip sat. Around them, the professors flickered into view: Elm, Birch, Rowan, Juniper, Sycamore, Kukui, and Magnolia. Their faces looked grave.
Rowan cleared his throat first. “We’ve been studying every legendary you’ve captured, comparing patterns across regions. The evidence keeps pointing to one conclusion: they’re all tied to something higher.”
“Higher?” Phoebe pressed, arms folded.
Magnolia’s image leaned in, her tone solemn. “The texts call it the Original One. The source. Arceus.”
Ace frowned. “You’re saying all of this, the Regis, the birds, beasts, myth legends, they’re ... connected?”
“Not just connected,” Rowan said, lifting a slate. “They’re fragments. Pieces of a larger design.” He hesitated. “With Cynthia’s help, I studied ruins in Sinnoh. We transcribed glyphs that described a divine tool: the Azure Flute.”
Ace twitched at the name, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. He didn’t speak.
Phillip leaned forward. “What’s so special about this flute?”
“It’s said to summon Arceus itself,” Rowan answered. His voice was steady, but the chamber seemed to tighten around the words.
Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. “Summon, as in ... speak to the Creator?”
Oak nodded. “Exactly. Now we can’t be certain if it truly exists, but if it does..., and if someone finds it and controls Arceus...” He let the thought hang.
Kukui’s projection flickered, his voice sharper than usual. “Then they could reshape the world. Everything. Not just regions, reality itself.”
Juniper cut in, pushing up her glasses. “And our enemy knows this. The ambush at Split Decision, the assault in Snowpoint, they weren’t just after Regigigas. They’re chasing the flute.”
Phillip cursed under his breath. “So, they want to remake the universe in their own image.”
Phoebe’s jaw tightened. “And we’re the only ones standing in the way.”
Oak’s gaze shifted to the trio, heavy with weight. “That’s why we’re asking you to keep searching. Track down the remaining legendaries, follow the ruins, and, if it exists, find the flute before they do. The fate of the world may very well depend on it.”
Phillip didn’t hesitate. “Then that’s our priority. Flute first. Any legendary threats second. We don’t give them an inch.”
Phoebe gave a sharp nod. “Agreed.”
Ace finally looked up, arms crossed. His voice was calm, but there was a hard edge beneath it. “Then we better move fast. If they find the flute first...” His gaze flicked away, just for a second. He then clenched his jaw. “ ... then it’s already too late.”
The evening sky over Pallet Town was a velvet curtain streaked with fading orange, the windows at Ace’s house glowing faintly against the dusk. Ace was relaxing on his porch, sitting on the rocking chair that had been in his family for decades. Saur was resting in the grass, eyes closed while its large flower soaked up the last of the sun’s rays. Ace was staring into nothing, his mind still tangled in the professors’ revelations, when his PokéNav buzzed sharply in his pocket.
Rowan’s name pulsed across the screen. Ace frowned, thumb hovering before he answered. The projection flickered into the air, Rowan’s stern face materializing above the device. His white mustache bristled as he nodded once.
“Ace. I trust I’m not disturbing you?”
Ace shrugged, keeping his tone flat. “You don’t call unless it matters.”
Rowan allowed a small smile at the bluntness, then his expression hardened. “Quite right. Listen, can you fly back to the Sinnoh region in a couple of days? There’s something, no, someone, you need to see. Cynthia has been continuing her work in Celestic Town. You know her reputation with ruins, myths, and Sinnoh’s oldest records. She can provide you with insight into Arceus’ role in creation, and of the forces that sprang from it.”
Ace froze. Even the night air seemed to hold still. Saur opened an eye, shuddering slightly.
Rowan continued, unaware or unwilling to pause. “Dialga, Palkia, Giratina, they were not just guardians of space, time, and distortion. They were instruments in the act of creation itself. The texts suggest Arceus’ will was channeled through them. Cynthia has fragments of these accounts, hieroglyphs, oral traditions ... more than even I have managed to gather. It is essential you meet with her. Tomorrow, if possible.”
Ace exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He kept his eyes on the ground. “Cynthia, huh.”
Rowan’s sharp gaze softened, just slightly. “This is bigger than any of us. If we are to stop the forces moving against us, you’ll need what she knows.”
Silence stretched between them. Ace’s chest tightened; the last time he’d heard her name out loud, it had been enough to throw him off balance. Now Rowan was asking him to walk straight into it.
Finally, Ace managed a dry chuckle, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Guess the universe doesn’t care about awkward reunions.”
Rowan’s tone left no room for argument. “It does not. Meet her in Celestic Town. I’ll send you coordinates and clearance for the archives.”
The call clicked off, leaving only the quiet chirp of the night. Ace leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the PokéNav’s darkened screen. His reflection looked back, tired and conflicted. Saur turned and looked at him. Ace managed a weak smile.
“Yeah, buddy. I know. Friday is gonna suck.”
He stood, tucking the device back into his pocket, and gazed at the horizon.
That Friday afternoon, the mountain air over Celestic Town was sharp and clean, carrying the faint scent of pine. Ace stepped off Draco’s back and onto the quiet dirt road. The town spread small and ancient before him, its stone houses and moss-covered walls unchanged since the first time he’d been here. Ace’s chest tightened. He remembered the last time he’d come here when Cynthia’s grandmother had first shown Ace the ruins and then Cyrus had shown up and started a fight. Now he was back after nearly years by now, and Cynthia herself was waiting for him.
She stood just outside the Celestic ruins, her long blonde hair swaying slightly in the breeze, her black coat brushing her boots. Cynthia’s expression flickered the moment her eyes met Ace’s, something unreadable caught between warmth and hesitation.
“Hello, Ace.”
“Hello, Cynthia.”
The single exchange hung in the air like a stone. For a heartbeat too long, neither moved. Finally, Ace shoved his hands in his pockets, forcing a crooked smile. “You look the same. Guess Sinnoh hasn’t worn you down yet.”
Her lips twitched. “And you ... look like you’ve been through hell.” Her eyes lingered on him sensing the physical and emotional scars that he was trying to hide. “I suppose nothing’s changed.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, gaze shifting away. “Nothing at all.”
The silence thickened until Cynthia broke it, gesturing to the ruins. “Come on. We don’t have the luxury of time. The past is waiting.”
Ace followed her into the entrance. Inside, the ruins glowed faintly with torchlight. Ancient glyphs covered the stone walls, depicting winged creatures, orbs, and humans kneeling beneath vast figures. Cynthia’s voice echoed softly, her tone transforming into the familiar cadence of a scholar in her element.
“I don’t think my grandmother showed you these the last time you were here. These inscriptions are relatively newer than some of the others, but they tell a migration story. A people carrying something too dangerous to keep, too precious to destroy. The ultimate treasure, they called it. They moved it far away, to seal it where no hand could find it.”
Ace ran his fingers lightly across the grooves. “The Azure Flute.”
She didn’t confirm, but her eyes said enough.
“This land wasn’t always known as Sinnoh.” She explained turning back to the stone walls. “It used to be called Hisui. My ancestor, Volo, was an ambitious merchant who once went to the Temple of Sinnoh in a foolish attempt to draw out Arceus using none other than Giratina.”
“Wait ... your ancestor controlled Giratina?!” Ace exclaimed, bewildered. “How?!”
“It’s not clear how he managed it, but it’s the story that’s been passed down in my family and corroborated through ancient texts.” Cynthia said calmly. “Thankfully he was thwarted by an ancient Hisuian hero who not only freed Giratina from Volo’s control, but also prevented him from reaching Arceus. Instead, the hero was granted an audience with Arceus who bestowed a very special object that the hero alone could use to summon it.
“The Azure Flute.” Ace said again.
“Exactly.” Cynthia said, nodding. “The Azure Flute remained in the care of the hero until the hero passed away. She turned back to Ace, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Afterwards, the flute was deemed too precious to be kept by any one person, so it was taken away to a place far from Sinnoh to protect it from those who might want to summon Arceus for the wrong reasons ... like my ancestor, Volo.”
“Well, that’s a good thing.” Ace said, rubbing his chin.
Cynthia turned, pointing to another mural, three dragons emerging from a glowing form. “Here, Arceus is shaping the forces of creation. Dialga, Palkia, Giratina. Each a reflection of its will.”
Her hand traced one dragon’s outline. “Dialga, steel for the solidity of time. It does not bend, it does not break, it flows endlessly.”
She moved to the next. “Palkia, water for space. Fluid, ever-changing, boundless. Its dimensions stretch and ripple like tides.”
Her voice lowered at the third. “And Giratina, antimatter. The veil between existence and void. Ghost to show its intangibility, dragon to mark its power.”
Ace’s stomach turned slightly as she spoke Giratina’s name. He remembered the rift, the crushing silence of the Distortion World. He said nothing.
Cynthia stepped aside, revealing a fourth engraving, faint and fractured. A dragon split down the middle, three shapes breaking away. “But some texts hint at another. The Original Dragon. Plasma, the fourth element. Neither solid, liquid, nor gas, but the force that binds energy itself. It shattered into three: Reshiram, Zekrom, and Kyurem. Balance undone.”
She paused, her eyes softening. “I spent months with Drayden in Unova, learning their oral traditions. Even he only knew fragments, but they all point to the same truth. Arceus made more than we ever realized, and if someone were to bring the pieces together again...”
Ace rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Then we’d be in deeper shit than we already are.”
A small smile flickered on Cynthia’s face, unbidden. She let her hand fall from the stone wall, her voice quieting as if the ruins themselves demanded silence again. Ace stood with his arms folded, his eyes lingering on the faint engraving of the broken dragon. Neither spoke for a long moment; the only sound was the drip of water echoing in the cavern.
Finally, Cynthia turned, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “That’s all I can show you for now. The rest ... the rest is interpretation.”
“This was all really helpful, Cynthia. Thank you for showing me this.” Ace said warmly.
Her tone softened, losing the scholar’s cadence. “You came all this way. Let me at least thank you properly. There’s a restaurant in town. It’s small and quiet. Best pasta in Sinnoh.”
Ace blinked, caught off guard. His chest tightened at the thought of sitting across from her again, somewhere intimate and calm instead of surrounded by glyphs and shadows. He started to refuse, then stopped. She had just given him answers he needed, maybe more than he wanted. He swallowed and forced a crooked smile.
“Sure. Dinner sounds ... good.”
Cynthia’s lips curved in the faintest smile, and for a second, the tension between them felt less like a scar and more like an echo.
The little restaurant was quiet, tucked on the edge of town where the mountain air seeped faintly through the old wooden beams. Lanterns glowed low, their light flickering against the stone walls. Steam curled lazily off their plates, rich with garlic and tomato, but neither of them had eaten more than a few bites. The hum of other diners felt distant, muffled, as though the whole room leaned in to listen.
Cynthia set her fork down carefully, the faint clink loud in the silence. Her gaze lifted to Ace, steady but hesitant.
“I heard about your championships,” she said softly. “Unova. Paldea. I’m ... really happy for you.”
Ace’s nod was stiff, his eyes dropping back to his untouched pasta. “Uh, thanks. Took a lot of work. Had to ... be the trainer my Pokémon deserved.”
Cynthia leaned forward, her expression sharpening. “Ace. You’ve always been the trainer your Pokémon deserved.”
A short, humorless laugh escaped him. He shook his head. “No. Not always.”
Her eyes narrowed, catching the weight behind it. “You’re talking about our battle.”
Ace’s hand curled around his glass. “Cynthia, I don’t want to—”
“Why not?” Her tone spiked, not angry, but raw. “It’s been four years, Ace. Four years. You disappeared after that battle, and this—” she gestured sharply between them, bracelets glinting in the lantern light “—this is the first time you’ve even looked me in the eye since?”
Ace sat back, jaw tight, his hand curling around his glass. Words balled in his throat and stuck there.
Cynthia’s voice cracked slightly but pressed on. “You were too hard on yourself. You still are. Just because I won doesn’t mean you weren’t, aren’t, an incredible trainer.”
His laugh this time was quieter, hollow. “It’s not the loss,” he muttered. His eyes finally lifted to hers, dark with weight. “It’s how I lost. One moment I thought I had it. Then I didn’t. And I didn’t know if it was my skill ... or...”
“Or what?” Cynthia pressed, sharper now. “Your feelings for me? That’s rich. If you think that’s why you lost, then what? You don’t respect me as a trainer?”
“You’re wrong,” Ace said quietly, but firm.
Her brows lifted, almost daring him. “Then please enlighten me.”
He exhaled slowly, folding his arms like bracing himself. “I went into that match knowing I’d be facing the strongest trainer alive. You. And I believed, I really believed, I could stand toe-to-toe with you. That maybe, finally, I’d proven myself, but when your Garchomp swept my last three Pokémon ... I don’t know ... it like ... shattered me. Made me wonder if I’d ever been who I thought I was. If all my victories were just ... timing or luck, and yeah, I wondered if how I felt about you meant I’d never stand a chance.”
The fight drained from her expression. For once, Cynthia didn’t have a retort. She looked down at her hands, the lamplight catching on her rings, then back at him, her eyes softer but lined with hurt.
The silence stretched long enough for the sound of clinking dishes in the kitchen to fill the gap. The scent of basil and roasted bread drifted between them, grounding the moment in something achingly ordinary.
Finally, Cynthia’s voice broke through, quieter but sharper for it. “You think you were the only one who lost that day?”
Ace blinked, brows furrowing.
She leaned back, folding her arms like she was holding herself together. “I wasn’t just heartbroken by how you handled the loss. I was heartbroken because when the battle ended, you didn’t just walk off the stage, Ace. You left me. No calls. No letters. Not even a sighting. Four years.” Her throat caught, but she forced the words out. “I meant what I told you that night we spent together before your Elite Four challenge. I told you how much that first night meant to me, how those feelings had only grown. Then after our battle, it was like I never existed to you at all.”
Ace blinked, stunned. His chest felt tight. The weight in her voice cut deeper than any accusation.
“You think I didn’t notice how broken you looked after the match? Of course I did,” Cynthia continued, eyes glistening now with a hard sheen. “I wanted to reach for you. To help you, but you shut me out so completely that I didn’t know if you even wanted me there. You weren’t the only one hurting, Ace. You just never gave me the chance to hurt with you.”
The words hung heavy, like the lanterns had dimmed. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Ace stared at her, at the faint sheen in her eyes, and realized this wasn’t anger anymore. It was scar tissue, finally splitting open.
Ace sat motionless. Words didn’t come easily. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Cynthia...” His voice cracked lower than he meant. He exhaled, shoulders slumping. “You’re right. I wasn’t mature enough to see what I was doing. To you. To us.
She looked up, surprised at the admission.
I thought losing meant I wasn’t good enough. For Sinnoh, for the title, for you. Instead of facing that, I just ran. Told myself I was protecting you from my mess, when really, I was protecting myself from facing you.” He shook his head, a bitter laugh undercutting it. “It was selfish, cowardly, and I hurt you because of it.”
The silence that followed was softer, almost fragile. Cynthia studied him across the table, the tension in her shoulders loosening just slightly.
“You were a fool,” she said at last, voice quiet but no longer sharp. “But at least now you can admit it.”
Ace managed a crooked smile. “Guess I finally grew up a little.”
“Too bad it took so long.” The corner of her mouth lifted faintly, almost against her will.
They fell into silence again, this time not so heavy. The lantern light swayed gently across their faces, shadows softening. Both picked at their food, more for something to do with their hands than hunger.
After a while, Ace broke the quiet, his tone lighter. “Do you remember the night we met at that bar in Jubilife, when you told me your name was CiCi?”
Her eyes flicked to his with curiosity. “Of course. Why?”
“Why didn’t you just tell me who you really were?” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “I feel stupid knowing I was talking to you like you were some random girl at the bar.”
Cynthia actually laughed, low and genuine. “Ace, that’s exactly why I fell for you that night. You treated me like a person. Not the Sinnoh Champion, not some global icon, but just ... me. If you’d known who I was, you would’ve likely been too nervous to even look me in the eye. Being CiCi gave me a chance to just be a girl in a bar, and I loved that.”
Ace leaned back, letting her words settle. He realized she was right, and the memory softened in his chest. He smiled faintly. “Fair. If I’d known, I probably would’ve tripped over my own tongue trying to talk to you.”
“Exactly,” she said, smiling now. “That night, I got to know the real you, and you got to know the real me.”
“Ace chuckled. “I wasn’t sure what to think when I woke up the next morning and you were gone.”
“I already explained to you why I did that,” Cynthia responded, “But I’ll say it again. I didn’t want to leave that night, but I thought it would be best for the sake of both of our careers. We both had ambitions, and I didn’t want to complicate that.”
Ace took a sip of his drink and nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. It’s too bad though. If you would’ve stayed. I would’ve given you a massage, breakfast, the whole works the next morning.”
“Oh really?” Cynthia replied with a smile tugging at her lips.
“Yes,” Ace replied with a soft smile, “I treat my ladies well.”
“Ladies, huh? And just how many ladies are we talking?” She replied with an eyebrow raised.
Ace chuckled. “Well ... none since you.”
“Mhmmm.” Cynthia murmured, taking a sip of her wine. “Well, it’s too bad you’ll never get that chance.”
Ace said nothing else for a while. They finished their meals and when the check came, Cynthia paid without ceremony, brushing off Ace’s protest. After putting her credit card away and adding the tip, she looked up at Ace.
“Well, I appreciate you joining me for dinner.”
“I’m really glad I did.” Ace said. “It was really good to see you, Cynthia, and I need to say this...” He took a deep breath looking down for a moment before looking back at her. “Honestly..., you were one of the best things to ever happen to me. Even the loss. I didn’t handle it well, and I know I hurt you, but I don’t think I’d be as accomplished as I am today if I’d never battled you. I thank you for that. For everything.
Cynthia stared, clearly caught off guard by what he said. Her breath caught, for a second, but she eventually found her voice again.
I-I appreciate you saying that.” She said holding her arms, “This ... this was good. I was nervous about today when Rowan told me he was sending you. I was still a little hurt and bitter even though I had moved on but seeing you tonight and hearing what you said..., I can finally feel some peace about this. About us.
“Let me walk you home.” Ace said.
Cynthia hesitated before smiling. “Fine, but don’t get any ideas.”
“Comon, Cynthia. You know good and well, my head is full of ideas.” Ace said smiling.
“I know I’m gonna regret this...” Cynthia replied, eyes closed and rubbing her temple. Then she stood up, putting on her black coat and grabbing her purse. “Let’s go.”
The streets of Celestic Town were quiet, lanterns flickering against the stone paths as Ace and Cynthia stepped out of the restaurant. The mountain air was a bit colder now, their breaths clouding in the dark. Ace shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to steady the racing in his chest. Cynthia walked at his side, her black coat pulled tight, eyes straight ahead. Neither spoke at first.
Finally, Cynthia broke the silence with a wry smile. “You still walk too fast. Some things never change.” Ace glanced at her, lips tugging into a faint grin. “You still keep up. Some things never change either.”
They passed the old fountain in the square, its frozen surface catching the lantern glow. The hush between them wasn’t awkward anymore. When their hands brushed briefly, both of them stilled. Cynthia pulled hers back, shaking her head with a quiet laugh.
“You’re impossible,” she murmured.
Ace smirked, though his voice came low. “You say that like it’s news.”
Her house wasn’t far, a tall stone building nestled at the edge of town near the woods. When they reached the steps, she turned to face him. Her eyes were cool, steady, but her lips parted like she wanted to say more than she should.
“Well ... this is me.”
“Yeah,” Ace said, rocking slightly on his heels. The silence stretched again. Then, before he could talk himself out of it: “You don’t really want the night to end here, do you?”
Cynthia’s brow arched. She let out a slow breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ace ... we said it ourselves. It’s not the right time. Too much at stake.”
“I know,” he admitted. His voice softened and the edge was now gone. “But after everything ... maybe it’s okay to steal one night. Just one.”
She stared at him, weighing the plea in his tone. Her jaw tightened, then eased, and finally she shook her head with a rueful smile. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Without another word, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. The glow of the lantern inside spilled across the step. She looked back at him once, her eyes glinting, and then she stepped inside. Ace hesitated only a second before following.
The sound of the town had faded into stillness by the time Ace followed Cynthia through her door. Warm lamplight spilled across the shelves of old books and artifacts, chasing back the mountain chill. The air smelled faintly of aged wood and the floral trace of her perfume.
She set her purse aside, shrugged off her coat, and crossed to a cabinet. Without asking, she pulled a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
“Still drink dry?” she asked, her voice level but soft.
Ace smirked faintly, loosening his jacket. “Still do.”
They sat across from one another, the lamplight dancing off garnet liquid in their glasses. Silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable, until Cynthia broke it.
“Do you ever think about it? That night?”
Ace tilted his glass in thought, lips tugging into a crooked smile. “More than I should, probably. I remember thinking I’d never met anyone who made me feel that comfortable that fast. Then you walked out the next morning, and I remember wondering if maybe I dreamed it.”
Her lips curved faintly as she swirled her glass. “I remember you were ... surprisingly gentle. Not what I expected from the guy who took on three drunks in a bar without flinching.”
Ace chuckled low. “Gentle’s not usually the word I get. You were the confident one. Like you knew exactly what I liked, and you weren’t afraid to push me.”
Color touched her cheeks, but her eyes stayed sharp. “I liked how you paid attention. Most men don’t. You noticed.”