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She snapped to attention and grabbed her suitcases, hauling them to the door where she forced herself not to stop, not to turn, not to look, not to see.

Forward.Forward motions only.

****

The second Kade left, their reckless art-beacon lit up the spiritual stratosphere requiring Kaos to somehow cover the blinding mess. But without being part of her, he couldn’t create a shield, and to become part of her required his Lust or his Rage. He wasn’t about to let Lust attempt anything with this one.

Rage it was.

“I’m ready!” she announced behind him.

Kaos pulled dark fury from the severed places inside him and coiled it into a surgical weapon. He turned and walked over, stopping before her upturned face, watching the power enter her spirit like a blade sinking into water. He stared into her eyes, following it in, ensuring it filled every crevice before locking it down with ruthless, silent finality. Nothing could trespass without consequence now. He could track her through the power itself—no more need for his dulled human senses.

“Are you okay?”

Her pulse suddenly brushed against the inside of his Rage and every part of him flinched. He held her green gaze, unable to pull out fast enough, the Rage inside him clamping down, sharpening his focus till it cut.

He shifted his weight and broke the stare. “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” he said as he returned to the window.

Her slow, measured breath filled his ears as his mind moved along the strength of the connection. He ran into a spill of reckless excitement—hers. Too fast, too bright, skimming the edges of his mind.

Her attention shifted and Kade’s face surfaced. A flicker of admiration. Her focus turned to him then. Kaos stilled. The pull was heavier. Messier.

He quickly erected a second wall, this one inside himself, blocking her noisy humanity from the work zone. He listened again then took in a measured breath at encountering silence.

Lock down complete.

Chapter Two

The helicopter blades beat above them like a war drum pounding the sky. Kaos sat still, knees wide, back straight, one hand resting on his thigh, the other—trapped in her death clutch. Both her hands strangled his like a life line while her pulse rapped against his skin, soft but frantic.

He kept his gaze forward, anchored on the horizon, but shifted the weight of his power. He eased the wall apart, the thinnest seam of spiritual access to measure her instability.

The entry point exploded like a paint bomb. He flinched inside at the yellow panic, the purple laughter. Blue dreams too big for her body, thoughts that bounced like marbles in a metal tin. One rolled past him—Does he like hot sauce? What if he’s vegan? Is this a military thing? Will I have to do pushups?

She inhaled too deep and imagined the entire helicopter plunging. Then came a scene of her rescuing him. Dramatic. Heroic. Unnecessary.

Kaos blinked as another image followed—her wondering if his eyelashes were real. Then came an entire spiral about whether he used conditioner or just had naturally blessed strands.

She shifted in her seat. Her knees touched his. She didn't notice.

Inside her mind, three squirrels were named after spices and had a job running her inner filing system. One wore glasses. One cursed. One sang. Loudly.

He narrowed the crack and the volume dropped while the colors remained. Bright. Reckless. Free.

A slow flush of red curled through the connection—shame. Embarrassment. Her panic that he mightfeelher inner chaos. Her worry about being too much. Not enough. And somehow both at once.

She squeezed his hand harder. Her head turned. She looked up at him.

He stayed still, gaze locked forward. Rage curled tighter inside him, coiling away from the light but unable to pull free.

Her gaze shifted back down and a wave of relief rolled out. Then came another blast of curiosity—Is he an assassin? Does he smell like cinnamon? Is it a sin to want to lick his jawline?

He closed the wall. Fast. Hard.

But the scent of her stayed in his head. Wildflowers. Wet stone. Strawberry wax. His hand twitched. She held on tighter.

Another thought slipped past the barrier before it sealed.