36. CHAPTER 36
Kira
The Capital
Kallum, Ciondo
With each passing day, Kira feared more for the Followers. The communication channel to Mom opened this morning. While she hadn't sent any compromising information, Kira feared how the Phaedra would respond to her silence.
Anxiety rampaged through her while she helped Adelle prepare appetizers for the evening.
“I can handle this,” Adelle said to her, never one to miss how Kira felt.
“I'm okay. Just nervous.”
“Everything will be okay. The Phaedra is excited for tonight. He won't do anything to distract himself.”
This evening, there would be a huge, red moon and a meteor shower with countless shooting stars ripping through the night. Mellie planned a sky-watching party with Adelle and insisted on a nice dinner. Apparently, the Phaedra ordered the lights off in Kallum to improve the view.
Adelle rubbed Kira's back. “I'm not supposed to say this,” she whispered in her ear. “I found a few safe people. It's coming together. We need a little more time to coordinate with everyone.”
Relief wilted her, and she leaned against the counter with a sigh. Did that mean they'd help her escape before the Phaedra lost patience with her mom?
“Thank you,” Kira said.
She wanted to ask more questions and make sure everyone was being safe. There was a reason they didn't share information, though. The message helped her calm herself enough to focus on the evening. It might be one of her last nights here. She should enjoy the time with Adelle and Zayne.
Kira loved stargazing with her mom when she was little. She really was excited for this, even if it felt strange to feel anything positive given the circumstances.
Evening fell, and Brock arrived with Zayne and Mellie. She wore a new black dress, and Brock looked handsome in his nice shirt. But Zayne walked in holding his uniform jacket with blood splattered on the collar of his undershirt.
“Hurry.” Mellie waved at him. “Shower and change so we can start.”
Was that his blood?
The worry crept back, but Mellie sighed. “We had to drag him away from work. He was supposed to come home early to get ready.”
“Is he hurt?”
“Him? No, no. That's someone else's.”
Brock removed his shoes. “We sparred today.”
“Are you the one he hurt, then?” Kira asked.
“I stopped fighting Zayne before we even graduated from the academy. He's crazy. There's no way I can keep up with that level of obsession. I won't be the one who ends up bleeding on his shirt.”
Mellie pursed her lips at Kira, eyes traveling slowly down her. “Are you not wearing the cute skirt tonight?”
“I don't know. I haven't changed yet.”
A forced smile, and Mellie looped her arm through Kira's. “Let's go shopping in your closet.”
But that turned out to mean let's block the closet and wait for you to try on the skirt.
Seeming to realize Kira liked her privacy, Mellie turned away while she changed. “If you hate it, don't wear it. I just want to see it.”
Sure.
Kira tucked the white shirt into the pleated navy skirt.
Normally, she didn't tuck her shirts in because she worried about how her stomach looked, but the skirt cinched high on her waist, right at the deepest part of her curve.
It fanned out, so it didn't cling but was just snug enough on her hips to showcase her favorite parts of her figure. Like it was tailored to her.
Mellie should make a career of this. She was good. Her eyes lit up when she turned to see and gasped very loudly.
Kira's fingers traced the hem of the skirt and felt where it cut off at her thighs, higher than she normally wore her clothes. “I don't know if it's flattering on my legs.”
“It's very flattering on your legs. Men and their thighs. Brock will love it.”
“I don't want Brock to love it.”
Mellie's smile fell. “Sorry. You're right. I need to stop. Here, let's look for something else.”
While Mellie riffled through more clothes, Kira looked in the mirror again, admiring her shape and her curves.
She didn't feel self-conscious about her soft stomach or thick thighs, but good.
Great, actually. Why shouldn't she wear an outfit she loved?
Did Mellie ever decide she looked too good and then change? Kira didn't need to hide.
“I'll wear it. For me, not Brock.”
“Yes,” Mellie said. “That's right.”
When they returned to the living room, Mellie looked pensive. “Zayne better not have any blood on him when he comes out here. I worked hard on making everything nice tonight. You'll die when you see the back yard.”
Kira and Adelle had not been allowed back there because Mellie wanted to surprise them, but she'd seen people pulling trucks around the house.
This was Mellie's dollhouse tonight.
Zayne stepped into the room then, no longer in uniform or bloody.
Instead, he wore a silky black button-up shirt that tucked into his dark pants, highlighting the taper of his waist compared to his broad shoulders.
The way the fabric stretched over his biceps and lay against his pecs was entirely inappropriate.
Yes, it was just a dress shirt and not any tighter than anyone else's, but it fit him so perfectly—whoever tailored it knew what they were doing.
They were not innocent. No way.
He smiled lightly at his mom when she greeted him, and the way it softened his eyes while sharpening his jaw built a sigh in her chest.
Wow.
He cleaned up really, really well.
Really well.
Brock cleared his throat and passed a glass of water to her. “You're supposed to be cousins,” he whispered.
“Obviously. I just was, you know,” Her stomach twisted, and she took a big drink. “Yeah, okay.”
He smirked at her and pushed the drink back up toward her mouth when she finished. “By the way, delicate subject.” Sticking his hands in his pockets, he leaned back on his heels. “Our cover story is that I fell for you. Sorry. Awkward.”
Kira choked on her water, drawing Zayne's attention.
“You don't need to worry, though. I'm safe. I promise.”
Her heart softened. “I know that.”
Brock looked at Zayne now. “Besides, I would sooner shove my arm in a meat grinder. Might be less painful.” Then he raised a hand to Kira. “That has nothing to do with you. You're lovely company.”
Looking at Zayne as well, pressure fought to escape her chest, but she didn't know how to relieve it. “Trust me, I know.”
“So, I'm going to just talk to you and sit by you sometimes. Little things that add good details to the story. It helps for Mel to see.”
Kira nodded.
Now, Mellie latched onto Zayne, eyes scouring every bit of him. “No blood. Well done.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body melting against his, while she looked up into his eyes. “Thank you for humoring me.”
Then she eased under his arm and settled her hand against his chest like she always did. But tonight, her thumb ran slow circles along him, and then her palm crested a ridge of muscle, tightening his shirt against him. Kira put her hand in that exact position when they kissed.
She remembered how he felt. How Zayne Riven felt.
What an insane situation.
“I love this shirt,” Mellie said.
Of course, she did. Zayne looked beautiful in it, and Mellie didn't need to pretend to be his cousin. She stared and touched and counted the days to marry him.
Kira guzzled the rest of her glass and removed herself from the room, shocked by her horrible behavior.
Jealousy?
When did Kira ever feel jealous of anyone?
And she didn't gawk at men. She'd lost her mind.
Needing a distraction, she fled to a sink of dirty dishes and filled it with hot, soapy water. Took out her frustration on the cheese crusted onto a sheet pan.
The way Kira acted right now needed to stop. Maybe she was cracking under the stress of captivity.
She never expected to see her stranger again, and they made no promises to each other.
Of course, they both lived their own lives after that night, and Mellie did nothing wrong being with her fiancé.
The blazing inferno in Kira's gut didn't make sense because she could lay no claim to Zayne. No one wronged her.
It was unfair to resent Mellie. What did she do with this bitter envy overlaying everything she saw? She was going to explode.
So many overwhelming emotions filled her, each its own massive tsunami wave that crashed into her heart. And nothing she felt fit together right.
It was like a blizzard whited out her mind and crushed her beneath unending snow while fire also caught parched grass and consumed her.
Her emotions were conflicting and out of control.
Her excruciating longing to see him again was now relieved, and yet worse than ever because her stranger was the least reachable man in the empire.
Tender awe at his dedication stormed with indignation—no fury—that he denied her the chance to reciprocate.
Hate—hate—for how he made her feel all these years, and nothing close to hate.
Not hate whatsoever.
The furthest from hate.
An aching, screaming, gaping wound of so much not-hate.
Her heart fluttered down into her stomach, and gentle warmth burrowed deeper than the heat of her frustration.
Everything she felt twisted around in ways that made no sense.
What was wrong with her?
Her eyes narrowed.
Zayne.
He was what was wrong with her.
That obstinate man.
That obstinate, maddening, ridiculous man.
He decimated her mind, leaving her unrecognizable.
Before he even knew her, he risked his life for her, risked his entire rebellion for one woman who meant nothing to him.
And he never stopped. Even when he made choices that she'd never understand, he fought for her.
But once he met her again, he threatened her, convinced her he hated her, made her think he had her tortured.
Zayne pushed her far, far away, and masterfully hid from her, and stripped his mask off to kiss her.
He was the one who made no sense, and he was making Kira no longer make sense either.
When Kira feared she'd get lost in this maze of a man, she didn't understand just how dizzying he'd turn out to be.
She scrubbed the dish harder, splashing water.