Chapter Forty-One
Rhea
T he half-empty cup of tea is still warm when I pass it on my way out of the bedroom.
I don’t touch it again. I don’t want anything from him.
I just want a snack. Something solid. Something normal. Something that doesn’t taste like rejection or emotional constipation.
Maybe toast. Maybe a goddamn pizza.
I’m barefoot and vaguely vengeful as I shuffle down the hallway, wearing one of Lucian’s many overpriced shirts that definitely cost more than my rent. I didn’t bother with pants. Why bother with pants? My dignity already left the building. Probably climbed out the window and hitchhiked to another city.
Also, I’m ninety percent sure I could still slightly be in heat, because I’m craving food, cuddles, and vengeance in equal measure.
Possibly also a cheeseburger.
Possibly also Kai.
Speaking of... The kitchen light is already on.
I pause in the doorway, and there he is.
Kai.
Shirtless.
Barefoot.
Eating cookie dough out of the tub like a human raccoon that fell into a vat of sex appeal and then got tattooed.
He looks up, sees me, and immediately grins like a gremlin who knows how to pick locks and charm mothers.
“Well, well, well,” he purrs, licking the spoon way too enthusiastically. “Midnight omega in my kitchen. Wearing Lucian’s shirt and nothing else. I must’ve been a very, very good boy in a past life - the gods have blessed me.”
I stop dead in the doorway and shoot him the sharpest, coldest, most judgmental glare I can manage.
“You’re eating raw cookie dough?”
“I’m emotionally damaged,” he says, totally unfazed. “Let me cope.”
He scoops another bite and licks the spoon with a slow, exaggerated swirl of his tongue, eyes locked on mine the entire time.
I raise a brow.
His skin is golden in the kitchen light - toned, cut, abs like a roadmap leading straight down to trouble. There’s a faint dusting of hair low on his stomach, and one of his tattoos runs down his ribs, looping into the waistband of his sweats in a way that should not be legal.
His biceps flex with every movement, casual but capable, a body built for violence and sin.
And his striking eyes, rimmed in lashes too pretty for someone with that dirty of a mouth.
He hops off the counter with all the grace of someone who’s probably bench-pressed a car before breakfast - slow, loose-hipped, like he’s stalking something already half-caught. His scent wraps around me the moment he’s close enough, and it makes my head swim.
My thighs clench.
“You here for a snack or an inappropriate rebound?”
“Toast,” I say flatly.
“Excellent choice. Emotionally safe. Minimal commitment.”
I brush past him and yank open the fridge, mumbling, “I swear, if Lucian stocked this place with kale and air -”
“He didn’t,” Kai says. “There’s brie, bacon, and at least three kinds of ice cream. Man might be emotionally stunted, but he’s got taste.”
I grab bread, slam it in the toaster, and try not to spiral.
But the thing is, spiraling is sort of my baseline now. And now here I am: standing in an alpha's kitchen, wearing another alpha's shirt, full of knots and existential dread and somehow still making toast.
“Hey,” Kai says softly, leaning against the counter next to me. “You good?”
I snort. “Define ‘ good .’ Because I may be freshly showered, emotionally violated, and moderately lactose-intolerant, but I’m vertical.”
“Strong baseline,” he says. “On a scale of one to burn the mansion down , where we at?”
I lift a hand. “Somewhere around key his car and set his tie rack on fire. ”
Kai nods solemnly. “Understandable. But I’m begging you - wait until I’m out of the building before you go full omega pyromaniac. I bruise pretty.”
The toast pops. I butter it like it insulted my ancestors.
Then I glance at him, voice low. “Do you think he meant it?”
Kai frowns. “Lucian?”
“Yeah.”
“The whole ‘ you’re unstable and touched ’ thing?”
My jaw clenches.
“I think he meant it in the way Lucian means anything. Badly.”
That pulls a breath of a laugh from me.
He leans in. “Look, Bambi. That man’s got more walls than a medieval castle. He’s got trauma, control issues, and an emotional range of ‘murder’ to ‘slightly concerned.’ But he wants you. That part’s not fake.”
“Then why does it still feel like he’s already decided I’m a problem to contain instead of a person to choose?”
Kai’s smile fades. “Because he’s scared. You make him vulnerable. You make all of us vulnerable. That’s what power looks like.”
I take a bite of toast.
It tastes like crumbs and survival.
“Yeah, well,” I mutter. “I didn’t ask to be powerful. I asked for peace, groceries, and maybe someone to split rent with.”
Kai grins again. “Too late. You got four alphas, an active warrant, and the emotional weight of a society that wants to metaphorically collar you.”
“Awesome,” I deadpan. “Next up: deal with the OMB, get my shit from my apartment, and figure out how to fake a new identity while bleeding out alpha pheromones.”
“You forgot step four,” Kai says, stealing a bite of my toast.
I glare. “What’s step four?”
“Let me eat you on the counter.”
I smack him with the rest of the toast.
Then, Kai inhales - deep and dramatic, like he’s trying to summon a ghost.
“I can't lie - you smell like rage and unresolved sexual tension.”
I roll my eyes so hard I nearly sprain something. “I came for food,” I mutter, taking another bite for emphasis. “Not foreplay.”
“Oh, Bambi ,” he says, syrup-slick and smug. “With me, it’s always both.”
I choke on a laugh despite myself. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Not when I’m winning.”
“Winning what ?”
He leans in, and I swear, I can feel the temperature spike. His gaze sweeps over me like he’s deciding whether to eat me or frame me.
“Whatever game you’re pretending we’re not playing.”
I don’t have the bandwidth for this. Not while I’m wearing nothing but an oversized Lucian shirt that smells like rejection and smug bastard, standing in the kitchen eating toast in the middle of the night like I’m auditioning for a depression commercial.
But Kai? He’s not just leaning in - he’s practically radiating fuckboy menace. Shirtless, all golden muscle and tattoos and that infuriatingly perfect I woke up like this smugness.
He smells like sex and adrenaline and chaos, and my body remembers him.
But it was different. I was in a haze; heat drunk and blurry, consenting and wanting and needy , but not particularly mindful of the details.
Now, though?
Now, I drink it all in. Now, I appreciate everything.
“I’m wearing the shirt of a man who rejected me after knotting me,” I tell him, clearing my throat. “I’m not emotionally compromised - I’m on the verge of setting this house on fire.”
Kai’s grin turns criminal.
“Then let’s throw the match, sweetheart.”
He’s too close now. All warmth and scent and wild alpha energy, and my thighs are already betraying me, clenching on instinct.
He leans down, brushes a knuckle along the hem of the shirt.
“The way you look right now? Hair a mess, bare legs, Lucian’s shirt clinging to all the wrong places…”
His knuckles slide higher.
“…it makes me wanna ruin you all over again.”
My breath catches. “I hate you.”
“You love it.”
“I’m pissed off.”
He nods solemnly. “And horny. And hangry. And probably dangerously under-caffeinated.”
“I don’t need your mouth tonight.”
He smirks. A slow, devastating thing.
“Don’t lie to yourself, Bambi,” he says, “you absolutely need my mouth tonight.”
And then, he drops to his knees.
Just like that.
Like it’s nothing. Like I’m not half-crazed from heat and heartbreak and a complete lack of protein in my bloodstream.
The rest of the toast is left on the plate behind me as he and drags me toward the other counter like I’m a five-course meal he’s been fasting for.
“Been thinking about this,” he growls. “Getting you all to myself. No interruptions. No pack. Just me, my mouth, and that sweet, needy cunt - still dripping Alpha.”
He slides his hands up my thighs, rough palms warm, steady.
“You came down for a snack,” he growls, sliding his hands up my thighs. “Let me serve you.”
“I was thinking about toast ,” I breathe.
“Wrong,” he says, grinning like a wolf. “You were thinking Kai’s mouth - you just didn’t want to admit it out loud.”
He lifts one leg over his shoulder like I weigh nothing, opens me up like a damn gift, and groans - loud and unfiltered - as though he’s the one already ruined.
Before I can respond, his lips brush the inside of my leg - teasing, soft, and infuriatingly slow.
“You know what I love about you?” Kai murmurs against my skin, voice like molten sin.
“What?” I ask, though it’s more breath than bite.
He drags his mouth up higher, kisses firm and wet, his stubble a scraping burn against my sensitive skin.
“You pretend you don’t want this.”
Another kiss, hot and open-mouthed.
“You act like you’re in control.”
Another - higher now, just beneath the hem of Lucian’s shirt.
“But I can smell you, Rhea. And baby…” He exhales against me. “You’re soaked. ”
And then, he licks.
Long, slow, and deep.
Right over my clit, then lower - lower still - his tongue dragging through every inch of me, pressing inside, teasing at my entrance.
My body jerks. My knees buckle.
“I hate how good this is,” I mutter, not quite sure why I admit that to him.
“You’re welcome,” he says, and then he really dives in.
Tongue hot, mouth greedy, fingers anchoring me like he’s afraid I’ll float off.
Which is rude, because I’m pretty sure I do.
Float, that is.
He works me open with precision and zero shame, tongue everywhere, circling over my clit then moving lower, like he’s got nothing but time and a PhD in filthy worship.
I moan. I gasp.
I consider writing him into my will.
My hand slams against the counter behind me, the other burying hard in his hair as I grind forward like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
“Kai -”
“Yeah, baby,” he purrs. “Let me feel it. Use me.”
He wraps his arms behind my thighs and anchors me to his mouth.
And god , he devours.
Sloppy. Starving. Worshipful in the dirtiest fucking way.
His tongue works everywhere, paying devastating attention to my pussy before sliding down to circle my ass with lazy precision.
I gasp. Hard.
He growls against me in response.
“Oh yeah,” he mutters, licking again. “You liked that last time, remember? Let me ruin you all the way, Bambi.”
My thighs shake violently as h is pointed tongue runs over me again ,
teasing and filthy
as he
spreads me wider.
“Kai, I swear -”
He pushes two fingers deep inside my cunt and fucks me with his hand while his mouth licks and laps and circles over my ass and my clit until I’m shaking, soaked, and so far gone I don’t remember what I came down for.
“Ohhh, fuck . You taste like heat and pride and leftover Alpha,” he growls. “Gonna clean every drop out of you.”
“Kai,” I say, partly laughing. “That’s disgusting .”
He pulls back just long enough to lick his fingers clean and wink.
“Nah. That’s devotion.”
“You’re such a - fuck - disaster, ” I gasp, hips rolling hard, grinding down against his tongue.
He sucks harshly at my swollen clit, then laughs - low and rough and wicked .
“Isn’t that your favorite thing about me?”
His fingers curl just right, brushing against a deep, soft spot far inside. I clench around them as his tongue continues its dominant exploration.
He presses lower again, deeper, then right inside, exploring places I’ve told myself I shouldn't love, but do ; pulling sounds out of me I’ve never made for anyone else.
Ever .
“Come on, Bambi,” he pants. “ Be pissed. Be mean. Ride my fucking face like you want to forget them.”
I hesitate.
My hips falter mid-roll, and I pause -
Because for a split second, panic licks up my spine like cold water.
Oh my god - what if I crush him?
He's down there like a human sacrifice and I’m hovering above him with thighs that haven’t stopped trembling since Theo brought me soup. One bad angle and this man is going out with his nose in my vagina. I’m going to end his life with pelvic vengeance and a flash of regret.
“Kai, I -” My voice cracks. “I don’t want to... I mean... what if I - what if it’s too much?”
He huffs out something that sounds dangerously close to a laugh -
And then grabs my ass like it owes him money.
“You think I got on my knees for half of you?” he growls. “No, ma’am. You better smother me.”
“ Kai - ”
“Bambi. Sit . I want the whole fucking storm.”
And something inside me - something feral, something furious - snaps.
I grind down on his mouth hard, my hips rolling like I’m out of patience and fucks to give. Like I’m trying to erase every other alpha from my memory with the force of my thighs and his extremely willing face.
“ Fuck ,” I hiss, dragging my fingers deeper into his hair. “You want a mess? I’ll give you one.”
“That’s it,” Kai groans, tongue flicking over my clit with reckless, devastating precision. “You want to be a brat? Be a fucking nightmare. Give me everything they couldn’t handle.”
I moan loudly, head tipping back as I ride his mouth like I’ve got a point to make and no notes to deliver.
“I don’t need Lucian’s rules,” I pant. “Don’t need Theo’s sweetness. Don’t need Ash watching me like I’m breakable.”
Kai’s hands grip my ass like a lifeline.
“Damn right you don’t, baby. Use me. Ruin me. Ride it out.”
“Ohh my god -”
I grab his hair harder and grind - deliberate, rough, angry.
And the thing about Kai?
He doesn’t. Stop. Talking.
Not even with his tongue buried in me like it’s his calling.
“You’re gonna fuck the air out of me,” he declares. “Come on, baby. Wreck me. Show them who you are when you’re not being handled. Show them what happens when you stop pretending to be polite.”
His fingers thrust into me - two, then three - pistoning deep and hard, the sound between us obscene and hot and real.
I grind harder, anger and heat and humiliation mixing in my bloodstream like gasoline.
The pressure rises. The fuse sparks.
“I need this,” I spit, grinding harder, rougher, angrier .
“That’s it - give me all that anger,” he growls. “Come on my face and scream for me. I need it. ”
His tongue swirls over my clit again in tight little circles as his fingers thrust in and out, in and out, building me closer and closer to the edge.
“You taste like heat and rage, ” Kai says. “Like revenge. You gonna come, baby?”
I lean forward, breath coming in ragged gasps. My voice breaks when I answer.
“I’m already - fuck , I’m going to -”
My thighs lock around his head, hands fisting in his hair, dragging him closer, forcing him to stay right there . His tongue flicks over my clit again, and -
I detonate.
A scream tears out of me as everything locks down and explodes all at once, my hips grinding against his mouth, cunt pulsing wildly, slick gushing over his face as the orgasm rips through me like wildfire.
“Fuck , Kai - ”
He moans loud against me, tongue still working, still devouring as I grind and cry and fuck his face like I need to break him with my cunt.
“That’s it,” he growls, breath ragged. “Soak me. Fucking soak me.”
My release is a tidal wave of heat and slick, crashing through me until I’m shaking apart over his head, panting and trembling and ruined.
But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even pause .
His fingers dig into my ass cheeks, spreading me wider as his tongue pushes deeper, licking, drinking like he’s addicted to every drop I’ve got left.
My thighs quake violently, the tremor going deep - into my belly, my chest, my throat - and without warning, my body erupts.
My arousal gushes out in a sudden, forceful wave. It hits his face, his chest, everything - hot and messy and undeniably primal.
A guttural sound rips from his throat and he lunges forward, mouth sealing to my cunt like he’s starving for it.
He drinks me down in sloppy, eager swallows as he laps and sucks and devours everything I give him - slick pouring down his chin, dripping onto his chest, smearing over his abs in shining, perfect filth.
The air feels thick with it: sex and power and scented submission turning the whole room into need.
My hands loosen in his hair, but I’m still trembling, still gasping like I can’t get enough air. My head’s tilted back, eyes blurred, body too wrecked to process what the hell just happened.
Kai doesn’t move. Not until I physically push at his forehead, my legs threatening to collapse.
“Kai - please -”
His lips press one last, soft, reverent kiss to my overstimulated clit before leaning back on his knees. His muscular chest is covered in my slick, dripping down between abs that tighten as he exhales. His jaw’s shining with it, cheeks red from pressure, lips swollen, smiling.
He licks them; a slow, fucking filthy drag of tongue over his bottom lip like he’s tasting victory.
“ God, ” he whispers, still panting, eyes lit up with pure fucking awe. “You ruined me.”
Then that smirk curves wide.
Devilish, dark -
Proud.
“Bambi,” he purrs, “I’m obsessed. ”