Page 14

The ache woke her. Sharp. Deep. Centered low between her thighs and pulsing up through her belly like an aftershock.

She shifted under the sheets and gasped. Her skin was on fire. Every nerve buzzed. Her nipples ached against her shirt.

Holy hallucinations.

Her eyes fluttered. Bedroom. Morning light. Her bed. She glanced down. Tank top. Boy shorts.

Alone.

She sat up fast. Kohl.

The smell of food hit her, and she kicked her way out of the sheets. Then froze.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Black wings. Huge. Holding her. His heat, his mouth on her neck, claws trailing over her skin! Oh God, that voice—thunder wrapped in thick smoke. “Fall for me.”

She panted as more flashes came. His fingers inside her. His mouth on her breast. Her cries. Her surrender. Her body shattering in his hands.

She strangled the sheets. It was just a dream. Just a dream.

But her thighs trembled, remembering every inch of him. Her pulse raced like he was still inside her. Her skin begged for the friction to never end.

Her stomach tightened. Kohl was in the bed! All night!

Her eyes darted to the door. Did he...?

No. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Her mind scrambled. Had she moved in her sleep? Moaned? Reached for him?

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding. Had he touched her?

Anger flared, remembering their fight.

What are you doing? You want him! You were pissed he gave himself to somebody else!

No. No, that’s not the only reason she was pissed. He’d rubbed it in her face, and that was unforgivable.

And now it was ripping her apart all over again.

Her mouth twisted in disgust—at him, at herself, at the burning low in her belly that wouldn’t go away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, swearing softly under her breath. Then swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her skin humming with phantom sin.

She’d had real dreams before--like crazy real-- come true real--but this… this was not that. Not at all.

So, what was it? A manifestation of her deepest, darkest, buried obsessions? Had she conjured up a Kohl that wanted her and dressed him like the devil he was acting like?

Another gasp. What if she had moved and moaned in her sleep? And he’d heard?

She stormed to the bathroom, needing cold water. No, she needed a cold shower. And then she’d have to face him. There was no getting around that.

****

Kaos managed to multi-task in his human vessel, filling the air with the smell of butter and eggs while Lust replayed Jaxi’s glorious undoing from every angle.

He still had her cocooned in his powers from the night before.

Now that he was spiritually connected to her, he had every reason to use his true form when he could.

Kaos understood jealousy and obsession infinitely.

But his human’s take on the topic was altogether different.

Not in its passion but its needs and desires.

It didn’t want to share. At all. Even when watching her sleep, touching her while she lay saturated in the aftermath of Kaos, kindled a rage in his human side much like his spiritual one.

Only it was without power to act. A futile rage.

Like an infant version of his spirit form.

Kaos wagered once Kohl tasted her, his obsession to have her at all times in both forms would weaken his jealousy and allow their addiction to merge as one.

The bedroom door opened, and he tracked the cadence of her walk.

Time to learn if she remembered anything. Rage and Lust had insisted he etch their binding eternally into every part of her. And he’d agreed. Then erased it anyway.

If he failed to block her memory, it was out of his hands and officially in Kade’s. But why shouldn’t she remember? It was a dream. She had plenty of those she remembered. Which is why they were the perfect place to hide in.

She stepped into the kitchen with a gentle sway, her movements quiet, slightly guarded. “Something smells good,” she said, voice soft with sleep.

He weighed her tone. It was more of a polite offering than a real comment. “I decided to cook for you.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she eased onto the stool, putting her hands in her lap. “I see that,” she said. Quick smile.

He set her plate in front of her, then met her eyes. Flashes hit without warning—her lips parted beneath his, her body writhing under his hand, the sound she made when he bit her throat. He broke the connection and turned to the stove. “You sleep okay?”

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 on his 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 pause stretch, 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.”

She didn’t move. Her pupils remained wide, jaw set like it was the only thing keeping her steady.

Kaos watched the rise and fall of her chest, the flush still blooming high on her skin. “You have a meeting in thirty minutes,” he murmured, fighting the urge to touch her.

She blinked like the words hit her from somewhere far off. “Shit,” she remembered, turning and vanishing down the hall.