Rhea woke up first, the Haven’s soft morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room.
She blinked, her amber eyes drifting lazily to the clock on the nightstand. Just past 8 a.m.
Any second now, Harris’s car horn would blare outside—sharp, punctual, and unmistakable. Like clockwork. Like everything in that man’s world.
But in here, time felt suspended.
Her gaze dipped, settling on the warm weight pressed against her chest. A lazy, secret smile curled at her lips.
Kael, still fast asleep, nuzzled against her breasts.
His dark hair was a tousled mess, the strands falling soft across his forehead, catching the morning light that filtered through the blinds.
His breath was slow, warm against her skin, each exhale a quiet rhythm that made her heart ache in the strangest way.
He looked... different like this.
Vulnerable. Gentle.
The sharp edges he wielded like armor were dulled in sleep, the smug smirk replaced with something softer—serene, almost boyish. It made her chest tighten.
She didn’t move.
Instead, her hand found its way into his hair, fingers curling through the soft strands in a slow, absent rhythm.
Her touch was feather-light, reverent, as if brushing through something too delicate to break.
She stared at him, unblinking, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence didn’t make her uneasy.
There was warmth in her chest.
Real warmth.
Not heat born from fury or lust, but something quieter, steadier. It bloomed slow and deep—like the rising sun outside, unhurried but undeniable.
For so long, she’d lived with a void inside her.
That jagged emptiness no one could reach.
Years of pushing everyone away, of clinging to chaos because it was safer than being seen, because it was easier to burn bridges than build them.
Fire had been her answer to everything.
But Kael... this insufferable man curled across her like a lazy housecat... he’d snuck in her life forccefully.
Laughed when she threatened to kill him.
Poked at her until she cracked.
Saw through her bravado, her snarls, the walls she didn’t know she’d built.
She noticed the change. Now, he saw her—not as a symbol, not as some ex-villain, not as a project to fix.
Just Rhea.
Her throat tightened.
She breathed slowly, deeply, letting her hand trace small lines through his hair, over the curve of his skull.
She’d told herself this was temporary. That the Haven was just a annoying pitstop.
A detour before she got back to real life, after burning this place down.
But now?
Now the thought of leaving felt wrong.
It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t weakness. It was choice.
She didn’t want to go.
Not when the mornings were like this.
Not when this ridiculous man made her feel more herself than anyone or herself ever had. Not when the warmth in her chest whispered of something she hadn’t dared believe in for years.
Home.
Her fingers traced his ear, soft and warm, and she giggled low, careful not to stir him.
She could snap his neck right now, end it all and bolt from the Haven—old Rhea might’ve considered it, thriving on destruction.
But this Rhea?
She’d let him fuck her senseless, sleep on her all night, and he was still breathing.
That made Kael special, he is the only one to ever do so.
_________
Kael woke up.
His hazel eyes fluttered open, bleary at first, locking onto the fair expanse of her skin.
He tilted his head, and there it was—a pink nipple, pert against the morning chill, stirring memories of last night’s heat.
He grinned, turning to meet Rhea’s face, her amber eyes glinting with a knowing smirk.
"Didn’t get enough last night, pervert?" she teased, voice husky, her red hair spilling over the pillow like a fiery halo.
Kael rolled aside, revealing his morning wood.
He shifted, trying to hide it, but her smirk widened—she’d clocked it already.
"Get up, hero," she said, stretching languidly, "I’m gonna be late."
He scrambled out of bed wearing his jeans and shirt, muttering, "Yeah, yeah, I’ll whip something up."
He headed to the kitchen, jeans slung low, as Rhea sauntered to the shower, the sound of water hissing faintly behind her.
Kael worked fast, slapping together breakfast—scrambled eggs, buttered toast, a sliced apple tossed on the plate for good measure.
The coffee maker gurgled, filling the Haven with its rich aroma as he set the table, two plates ready.
Rhea emerged minutes later, her superhero costume hugging her curves, dark fabric gleaming, her mask dangling from her hand like an afterthought.
She plopped into a chair, amber eyes flicking over the spread, and took a bite of eggs, chewing with a lazy grin.
"I noticed that," she said, her tone sly, spoon tapping her lips.
Kael paused, mid-sip of coffee, his hazel eyes narrowing. "Noticed what?"
"Your morning wood," she drawled, leaning forward, her cleavage pressing against the costume’s neckline, a deliberate tease. "Couldn’t hide it, huh? Bet it’s still there, thinking about me."
He choked on his coffee, setting the mug down with a clunk, a grin breaking through. "Bold words for someone who crawled into my bed last night, begging for it."
"Begging?" Rhea laughed, tossing her hair, the mask swinging in her grip. "Please—I had you panting my name in ten minutes flat. Who’s the desperate one?"
Kael leaned back, crossing his arms, his grin turning wicked. "Keep talking, Flame-Lantern. I could bend you over this table right now, and you’d be screaming for more before Harris even pulls up."
Her amber eyes flashed, a flush creeping up her neck, but she didn’t back down, popping a piece of apple into her mouth with a slow, sensual bite. "Big talk, Kael. Bet you’d finish before I even got started—couldn’t handle the last round last night, could you?"
"Oh, I had handled it well," he shot back, leaning in, their faces close now, the table a narrow divide. "Question is, could you? You looked pretty wrecked last night, all those moans—’Kael, please, harder!’—ringing any bells?"
She smirked, undeterred, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "Keep dreaming, pervert. I’d have you begging for mercy before breakfast’s cold." She licked a crumb from her lip, slow and teasing, knowing exactly what it did to him.
He laughed, low and warm, shaking his head. "Dangerous game, Rhea. Harris catches you wasting time flirting like this, he’ll drag you out by the mask."
"Let him try," she said, grinning, shoving a forkful of eggs in her mouth. "I’d burn his tires off first."
Rhea finished her plate, licking her fingers clean, exaggerating her tongue’s movement with a playful glance his way, and Kael groaned, mock-exasperated. "You’re killing me here."
"Good," she chirped, standing to stretch, her costume shifting, accentuating every curve. "Keeps you on your toes."
A loud car horn blared outside, sharp and insistent—Harris, right on time.
Rhea grabbed her mask, slipping it over her face with ease, the black material covering her entire head.
"See ya, Kael," she said, voice muffled but warm, heading for the door. He waved, leaning against the wall, a lazy grin on his lips.
She paused halfway out... then spun back, darting inside.
Kael straightened, brow furrowing. "What’s up?"
Without a word, she tugged her mask off, revealing her flushed face, and closed the distance.
Her lips met his—not a hungry, desperate kiss, but something softer, warmer, lips pressed gently, lingering with meaning.
It wasn’t about heat or action; it was a quiet confession, a thousand unspoken words—trust, connection, something deeper than the fire they’d shared last night.
Her hands rested lightly on his chest, his on her waist, and for a moment, the Haven held its breath.
She pulled back, amber eyes meeting his, a faint blush hidden as she slid the mask back on. "Bye," she murmured, voice soft, and slipped out the door, leaving him standing there, dazed, his hand still raised in a half-wave.
"What just happened?" he muttered to himself, touching his lips, like a maiden’s first kiss, her warmth lingering like a promise.