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She reached for the fork, but her fingers hesitated on the handle. “Yeah,” she said, eyes fixed on the eggs. “I think so.” The uptick in her pulse plucked against the link anchored in his cock. “One of those weird sleeps where you wake up kinda… tired.”

She took a quick bite, her shoulders moving—tight, then looser. He watched her chew, slow and methodical. She reached for the glass of water, took a sip, then set it down precisely.

She hadn’t lied. But she hadn’t told the truth either.

Kaos leaned back slightly, wrapping his voice in calm restraint. “You remember any of it?”

Her hand remained on the glass for a second. Then she took another bite. “Bits and pieces,” she said, eyes still on the plate.

“One of those dreams that sticks with you, even if you can’t explain why.”

Her tone stayed even, but a flush rose along her neck—subtle, warm. Kaos realized he wasn’t digging out answers because there was something intoxicating about letting his human vessel unwrap her like a gift. Layer by fun layer.

He studied the blooming color on her skin, felt Lust shift quietly beneath his skin.

“Sounds vivid.” He picked up his fork, let it hover. “Was there color? Sound? Feeling?”

She gave a small shrug, eyes still on her food. “Felt like a painting I forgot I made. Familiar, but only in flashes.” She took another bite, slower this time.

Still hadn’t lied. Still hadn’t told him the truth he wanted.

“There was a lot." She cleared her throat lightly. "The kind of things that don’t explain themselves.”

Kaos let the words settle, mapping her phrasing against every sound she made in the dream. He organized the food onhis plate with the tip of his fork. “The kind that lingers. Leaves something behind. A mood. A mark.”

He took his first bite, eyes on her. “I didn’t sleep much either,” he added after a beat. “The dreams you had kept me up.”

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?” she asked, curiosity slipping out before she could stop it. Her gaze dropped to the plate, and she shifted her grip on the fork then lowered it.

Kaos reached for his glass as the memory rose without warning—her lips parted beneath his, slick with need, whispering into his mouth like it belonged to her. “You sure you want that answer?”

She dragged her fingers along the edge of her napkin, eyes flicking to his, then away. She gave a soft laugh, skin flaming with all the answers he wanted to hear from her perfect mouth. “I’m… not sure now.”

He took a slow sip, then set the glass down. “Let’s just say it made it very… hard to sleep.”

Her breath hitched. She reached for her water too quickly and nearly knocked it over. When she lifted it, she held it steady, stormy blue gaze locked on the rim. “You should’ve woken me,” she whispered, voice fragile and bare.

Kaos held still, listening to the truth folded inside her shame. He leaned back slightly. “Why would I wake you from something you clearly wanted?” He kept his voice low, unhurried. “Craved, if I go by the heat in your gasps… the ache in your moans.”

Her eyes snapped up, sharper now. “Now you sound like a voyeur.”

Kaos tilted his head, holding her gaze. “A voyeur watches. Uninvited. Passive.” He reached for his glass again. “That wasn’t this.” He sipped then licked his lips. “I might as well have been in the dream. The sounds were... familiar.” He let the pausestretch, just long enough for the memory of her rooftop jealousy to flicker across his thoughts—tight, possessive, perfect.

He set the glass down. “Very similar to the ones my Queen once made.”

Two seconds, then water hit him in the face—sharp, cold, thrown with full force. She stood in one swift motion, chair dragging behind her. “Don’t you ever compare me to your stupid queen,” she said, voice cracking with heat. Her hands shook, her breath came fast as she stared him down.

Kaos let the water drip from his jaw, unmoving. The corner of his mouth curved—slow, precise. His beautiful angel.

He wiped the water with the back of his hand, gaze steady. “You drew the comparison the moment you felt threatened by her.” He stood slowly, closing the distance one measured step at a time. “But don’t worry,” he added, voice lower. “Whatever happened to you in that dream got me harder than my Queen ever did.”

She stepped right up to him, brave, fury bared. “I’m really glad my first time was with a being more beautiful than this world can bear,” she said, voice calm but cutting. “And I’m especially glad you got to watch from the sidelines… while he took me apart—and everything in my world with it.”

The words hit like a lightning strike. His Lust coiled in his chest, Rage flared so bright it blurred the room behind her.

There it was. The gift he’d been unwrapping. And it was devastation to his human vessel and rapture to his spirit.

He smiled. Slowly. “Next time,” he said, breath thickened, “I won’t stay on the sidelines.”