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“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 ofonetoburn the mansion down, where we at?”

I lift a hand. “Somewhere aroundkey 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?”

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