Chapter 12: Lunch
Theyllapsed, tangled and slick—her legs sliding down, sprawling across thet as she rolled half-atop him, panting, her scarred cheek pressed to his chest again. Her breath rasped—"Mmm..."—soft now, sated, amber eyes half-lidded as she nuzzled closer, crimson hair sticking to his skin. Kael's hand found her hair, stroking the damp strands, a smirk tugging his lips as his chest heaved, slowing.
"Guess we were not done," he murmured, voice rough but warm, fingers tracing a scar along her shoulder. She hummed, a low, lazy sound, her hand resting on his stomach, scarred fingers curling against him. The morning stretched into noon, the light shifting higher, and his stomach growled—a sharp, mundane reminder that broke the haze.
He shifted, easing her off gently, and sat up, thet creaking as he rubbed his neck. "Lunch," he said, half to himself, standing to stretch—muscles taut, red marks from her nails stark against his back. "We've burned through everything since dawn. Gotta eat." He glanced at her, sprawled there, sweat-slick and glowing, and grinned. "You stay. I'llok."
Rhea propped herself on an elbow, hair falling over one eye, her breath still uneven. "Let meme," she said, voice quiet but firm, amber eyes catching his—a flicker of that vulnerability again, softer now. "I'm not... just lying here."
Kael paused, mid-step, then turned, studying her—scarred, fierce, his but not broken. After a beat, he nodded, a faint smirk breaking through. "Alright, firebrand. Join me. But you're chopping—my arms are shot." He held out a hand, pulling her up when she took it, her grip steady, warm.
They stumbled out together—her leaning into him, his arm slung loose around her waist—the Haven's gray walls fading behind them as the kitchen's clatter awaited. The air shifted, lighter, threaded with something new—sweat and sex giving way to a quiet, unspoken tether, forged and held.
A skillet slammed onto the burner with a clang that rcheted off the kitchen's grimy tiles, oil spitting as it hit the heat—sharp, acrid, slicing through the Haven's stale hush. Rhea stood rigid by theunter, arms crossed tight, scarred fingers clawing the hem of Kael's white t-shirt—too loose, too his, grazing her thighs like a taunt. Her crimson hair spilled wild and damp, clinging to her shoulders, and the faint stink of burnt wood and sweat hung on her—ghosts of their morning's chaos. The shirt barely hid her black panties, leaving her legs bare, scarred, and prickling in theol air, and she shifted—restless, exposed—amber eyes glinting with a mix of irritation and something softer she wouldn't name.
She'd balked when he flung the shirt at her—his scent, cedar and musk, clinging to it like a brand—but her own clothes were a shredded mess, so she'd gritted her teeth and yanked it on. Now, standing here, it felt like a tether sheuldn't snap, and it pissed her off. Kael didn't blink—cracked an egg into the pan with a flick, yolk sizzling loud, his movements smooth,cky. Shirtless still, red claw marks streaked his back—her work—and his jeans slung low, hips shifting as he stirred, spatula scraping metal.
"Bet you never paid a dime took," he said, voice rolling low, a jab wrapped in a grin as he glanced her way. "No gas, no matches—just snap those fingers, and whoosh, instant blaze. Cheater."
Rhea's eyes narrowed, a ff ripping out as she snatched a bread loaf and tore into it—teeth flashing, savage. "Oh, fuck off. How many kitchens you turn to ash playing savior?" Her voice scratched, rough from their earlier tangle, and she chewed hard, amber gaze daring him to bite back.