Chapter Three
“How long is soon,” Kaos demanded into the phone, his voice tight, heat laced beneath the surface.
Kildare chuckled, sharp and amused. “Why? Are you late for some life I’m not aware of? Or is she too difficult to babysit?”
“It’s a straightforward question, Seraphim. Why is a being like me babysitting this… human avalanche of emotional rainbows?” He lowered his voice, the words scraping his pride. “She has needs I cannot meet.”
“Oh?” Kildare pushed, his voice all teeth now.
“Read my mind, Seraphim,” Kaos bit out.
A pause. Then a sharp hiss. “Seems I can’t yet,” Kildare admitted. “So how’s the threat situation?”
“I had to create a shield with my Rage. And that plugged me into her thought parade. Which required a second wall.”
“Have mercy.”
Kaos growled at the humor layered under his brother’s voice. “Her smile presses against the barrier like heat. Her optimism is crawling through the cracks like vines trying to bloom in blood.”
“Thankfully, you’ve got god powers over your Rage and Lust.”
“Powers, yes. Control?” Kaos whipped his head around at the knock on the door. “She’s fucking knocking. I have to go.”
He hung up and dialed her number.
“Uh, not sure how to answer the phone,” she called from outside the door. “That’s why I’m here. Sorry.”
He stormed to the door and opened it, snatched the phone from her hand, and lifted it in demonstration. “This.” He handed it back and shut the door, dialing her number again.
“Hello?” she answered brightly.
“Good.”
“I did it!” she cheered.
“Is that all?”
“Uhhh, yes, I think so. Oh,” she added, “I was wondering if you wanted to join me for dinner, I’m cooking—”
“I’m fasting. Goodnight.”
He hung up and redialed Kildare, pacing.
“All good?” Kildare asked.
“How long until my replacement?”
A pause. “Uhhhh… well. There is no replacement. It was just for optics.”
Kaos’s rage coiled so fast he had to hang up before the phone shattered in his hand.
Another knock.
“I’m so very sorry,” she called. “I think I locked myself out.”
He opened the door and found her arms crossed, face tilted in that sheepish way that somehow kept crawling under his skin.
“Where’s your phone?”
“It’s in the… house,” she said, rubbing her arms and shivering.
“I can’t unlock it if it’s not here.”
She frowned. Then gasped. “Not my phone! I’m locked out of the house!”
He stared at her for three seconds then made his way to her apartment. At the door, he took hold of the handle, pulled in a microscopic thread of rage, and shoved with his shoulder.
Fuck. The door snapped clean from the frame.
“Oh my God!” she gasped. “I didn’t mean—I should call—”
“No,” Kaos cut in, leaning the door against the wall like it had offended him. “Go to my apartment. We’ll call tomorrow.”
“I can just lock my bedroom door if—”
“You’ll stay in my apartment,” he said, tone final. “I’ll stay here.”
She glanced around, froze, then cursed. “Shit!” She sprinted to the kitchen. “Just—let me turn this mess off. I ruined it.” She spun the stove knob off then turned and disappeared through a doorway. “Just getting clothes,” she called.
The barrier he’d erected created a blur of her again. He closed his eyes, thinned it slightly. Her sadness hit like cold breath. Disappointment. Bitter and pointless.
Was it the food?
“I have food,” he called, hating this odd need to fix something he hadn’t broken.
“Thank you,” she replied, her warmth dragging claws through his restraint. “I’m not really that hungry.”
She reappeared, an entire suitcase in hand.
“It’s for one night,” he reminded.
She paused mid-step, like the words had hit her in the gut. She set the suitcase on the floor right where she stood then dropped down and yanked it open. She ripped things out in handfuls, a flash of black lace summoning his Lust.
She stood, arms full of clothes, breathing hard. “There. One night’s worth.” Her eyes met his, clear and cutting. “Does that make you feel better, Mr. Kohl?”
He stared.
She stepped toward him, mouth tight, eyes lit with defiance. “Now’s a good time to stop bullying the tiny girl half your size.”
Her challenge set off a pulse behind his fangs. He tore down the barrier and dove into her.
She hit his power like fire, emotions curling up around him like smoke and sugar and something darker underneath. His body locked as he went deeper. The air changed. Heat twisted with sweetness. Sharpness with surrender.
He slid his tongue along his teeth and tasted her conflict. Not dark. Not innocent. Filthy and clean. His cock throbbed. His Rage whispered for control. His Lust whispered for clarity.
Then he felt it—her fear. But it was no match for what she craved. Raw need. Unfiltered.
“My apologies, Miss Juniper,” he said, forcing his gaze from hers. “This job is new to me. Forgive my ignorance.” He dropped to the floor and began folding her clothes with surgical focus.
“I… I can do that,” she said softly, kneeling beside him and snatching the clothing away from him while clutching her clothes in her other arm.
He let her. The wall still down, her thoughts danced in color and contradiction. She wanted to hide. She wanted to be seen. She didn’t want him to see and yet absolutely did.
A black piece from her bundle slipped free.
They both reached.
He was faster.
He gripped the fabric, intent on handing it over. But something old and possessive jerked inside him. He refused to release it.
She grabbed for it and his hand snapped closed over hers as if she’d triggered a snare.
She froze in his grasp as her scent hit him like fuel on an open flame.
“Let… go,” she whispered, her voice bleeding with need for the opposite.
He released her.
She bolted.
He stood slowly, still holding the lace. It wrapped through his power like a brand as he contemplated her reaction. It wasn’t sin. It was shame tangled with being seen and fear of what he saw. And terror of rejection. He paused at the final clue. Her arousal. It was so potent it couldn’t hide.
He returned to his apartment, lace still in hand, Lust prowling in his groin. He sat and followed the tether between them. She was in his bathroom.
The lace lay in his palm, fingers curled around it.
He lifted it to his face….
Inhaled slowly….
Absorbed….
Warmth and life. And the breath of a hunger so deep it scarred.
And shame. Woven in the silk. Traces of neglected arousal buried in the fabric.
He breathed it, tagging every layer. Recorded every confession.
She was like a child with a tear in her spirt.
Lost in the woods, dropping crumbs of herself.
Not realizing something dark and terrible followed her.
Gobbling each cry for help. Feeding his own starved appetite. Building an eternal meal plan.
He slammed the wall back up and stood, sliding the lace in his pocket. He made his way to the kitchen and opened the fridge, roaming his gaze over items, realizing he lacked particular skills. What had she attempted to cook?
“You push for conversation like it doesn’t come with a price—so maybe I’ll shove my fingers past your lips, drag them along your tongue like a promise, and fuck your mouth until even your silence knows who it belongs to.”
Fuck the night.
He pulled his phone out and dialed Kildare. A being who didn’t need to eat but could.
“Yes,” he answered on the second ring, his tone sounding urgent.
“You have updates?”
“Do I have updates,” he muttered, grunting then releasing a breath. “Sure. Our beloved Earthly Kiss Ass King is enjoying life while we perform actual work.”
“We?”
His breathing stalled for a second. “I know you think I’m preening in some mirror while you’re hanging out at the resort with your human paradox, pitch black feelings all hurt.”
“Fuck you, Seraph,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder for signs of the tiny fleshling. “I don’t care what you’re doing or if you’re preening anywhere. I just need to know if you can cook.”
“Cook?”
He headed for the back patio. “What’s going on, Seraph,” he demanded quietly, shutting the door behind him. “Are those angelic tears I hear?”
“You’re the one crying over babysitting a tiny human, brother.”
Kaos stepped outside and walked down the steps. “Come say it where I can see you. Hot pants.”
He laughed quietly and took a deep breath. “I’m sitting on top of a three-story building, tagging demon mules. What about you?”
“Just trying to cover the asset without touching it.”
A pause and then a testy, “And that’s hard?”
“It’s an explosion of messy.”
“Hm.”
“What does that sound mean, Seraph? I can’t read your ruby mind anymore and don’t care to guess.”
“It means you may have to get your precious hands dirty, Dark-Fuck-Lord. You’re to cover this asset. That means she stays purehearted, untouched, and focused on the job—being a creative artist.”
Untouched.
“Define untouched.”
“She’s in her prime, she’s beautiful, and she’s a target for human demons. Your job is keeping them away from her.”
“You do remember what I am?”
“I know what you have control over. So, exercise it.”
Kaos sat on the steps drawing in a breath of the cool evening air. “Why take that risk?”
“A question for Raviel, not me.”
Kaos tasted the meaning in his tone. “So, you agree it’s a risk.”
He scoffed lightly. “Putting you over a female after having your soul ripped from one? Just a little , yes.”
He considered that. “Maybe it makes me the least risky.” The fantasy fell from his lips, burning his ears with envy.
“Don’t be arrogant,” Kade said. “It makes me the least risky. I’m the one who had to rip our souls from our chests. The only difference is, yours was shiny and new, mine was…”
“Decrepit?” Kaos offered before his ruby stepbrother could get any more dramatic. “I can’t remember what the bond felt like,” he confessed, the words equally hollow.
He got a quiet, low, “I remember it partly.”
Kaos raised his gaze to the sky, finding it filled with a million diamonds. He murmured, “Like a thing you know but didn’t experience.”