Page 167 of Celestial Combat

That earned me one of his slow, easy smirks. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rumbling as he tossed the towel aside. “Maybe. But it gets in my way at the gym.”

“You know… I could trim it for you.”

He paused, lifting one brow at me as though making a very serious decision. “Alright,” he finally said, turning to face me properly.

We moved to the little chair by the window, where light from outside brushed across his cheekbones like warm gold. I grabbed a pair of scissors and comb and ran my fingers through his hair, lifting small sections to snip at the ends. The sound of the scissors, quiet and soothing.

When I moved in close to even out a lock above his ear, his hands settled gently at my waist. Then he tilted his chin up, lips hovering near mine, eyes dark and expecting.

I paused – my heart skipping – and gave him a quick, playful kiss before focusing back on his hair.

“Hey,” he protested under his breath, grinning up at me.

“Patience,” I teased, combing another damp strand into place as the light made his hair gleam almost black.

The living room glowed in the soft, late afternoon light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, snow fell gently against the glass, each flake swirling like a tiny dancer. I was tucked into one corner of the couch with a novel balanced on my knees, a throw blanket draped around me like a cozy cocoon. Zane sat close, his laptop resting on his lap, the quiet clicking of his keyboard punctuating the silence like a soft metronome.

The hush between us felt warm and full, wrapped in the kind of safety that only came when you were exactly where you were meant to be. Every so often, his knee would shift and brush against mine, and my eyes would flick up from my page just longenough to catch the hard lines of his profile lit by the pale winter light.

Then, as I reached across the couch for my tea, my fingers skimmed against the back of his hand. Our hands paused there together for a breath too long. I glanced up, and his dark eyes already on me, expression melting into something deeper.

For a moment, we simply looked at one another. My pulse was a slow, heated thrum in my chest.

He closed the laptop with one hand, leaning toward me. My book slid from my lap and onto the floor, forgotten.

The space between us disappeared as his hands found my hair, fingertips warm and sure against my skin. Our lips met hungrily at first – then deeper, more urgent, as though all the quiet, stolen glances of the past few hours had built up to this one perfect kiss.

We moved fast, almost desperate for each other. And before we had all of our clothes off, he was already holding me down with his weight and pushing inside me. I grabbed onto him, nails digging into his back and shoulders.

He stole the breath right out of my chest.

And all I could do was hold onto him andlove.

The world outside disappeared as we melted into one another, tangled in softness and fire, the hush of the snowstorm forgotten in the rhythm of our breaths.

A couple of hours later, we found ourselves sprawled together on the big, fluffy white rug in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the light was melting into soft pinks and golds as the sun began to sink over the East River. The city glimmered beneath us – tiny pinpricks of light starting to wake up one by one – while the snow kept drifting past the glass in slow, graceful spirals.

Zane sat with his legs stretched out, back propped against the couch, one arm draped casually around me like it belongedthere. I shifted closer, leaning my head onto his broad shoulder. His warmth felt like my own personal shelter in this huge, quiet loft.

The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of melted snow on his clothes. Outside, the rooftops were topped with a powdery layer of white, the windows across the street glowing orange as people began to turn on their lamps. The whole world felt hushed, like we were wrapped up in our own perfect little bubble.

I could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath against my cheek, the softness of his t-shirt under my fingertips. Zane bent his head slightly so his chin rested lightly against my hair. Neither of us spoke – we didn’t need to. The view was magic enough, and so was this moment.

A week before Christmas, my loft looked like it had been picked up and dipped in pure holiday spirit – and it was all thanks to Kali.

Boxes sat scattered across the hardwood floor, strings of tiny white lights were tangled around my hands. The tree I carried home last week, nearly brushing the ceiling, took up one corner of the living room. The whole place smelled like pine and sugar cookies from the batch we’d pulled out of the oven earlier.

Kali was humming along toHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,a delicate sound that filled the apartment more warmly than the heater ever could. Her hands were busy fluffing the branches of the tree, eyes glowing as she decided where tohang each ornament – shiny glass bulbs, tiny carved animals, and a few felted snowflakes. I’d never had any of this before; my apartment was usually sleek and empty this time of year, just another stretch of winter days blending into one. But with Kali here, suddenly my place felt like a home for the first time in a very long time.

“Pass me that one, please.” she pointed to a little glass star in the box at my feet. I held it up, careful not to drop it, and she reached up to hang it just right. Her curly hair fell into her face, and I brushed it back, my fingers grazing her cheek.

We took a few minutes to admire the tree once it was finally glowing – strands of white lights twinkling through green branches like a galaxy. Kali clapped her hands together in delight, then spun around and grabbed my hands to dance for a moment to the next song that came on. Laughing, she pulled me close, and I could feel her warmth through my sweater.

Next, we hung the stockings together over the fireplace – one for her, one for me – even though the chimney had never seen any use before tonight. “Looks perfect,” she murmured, nestling into my side as we stood back.

“Never thought I’d do this,” I admitted, voice low. “Decorating, cookies, Christmas movies.”

Her eyes sparkled up at me. “You’re telling me you’ve never watched Home Alone?”