Page 80 of Heimlock

To be honest, he deserved worse. Some of the scars on my body prove he deserved so much worse.

One of my greatest shames is not fighting back sooner. Which is why I teach women to gain the confidence to defend themselves.

No one deserves to be me.

Sitting up with a yawn, I kick off my sheets and walk past my empty bedframe, heading into the kitchen to make some coffee and grab a croissant. While it brews, I check my phone and take a bite of my breakfast. There’s one from Orliana and two from Trinte.

Orliana: We are going to tonight’s fight, right?

Kyrielle: Yeah, you and Fynn are absolutely welcome. I’ll set aside some tickets for you.

I check Trinte’s with a racing pulse. After last night, he could pull away entirely. We literally committed murder after feeding the homeless. That’s not normal.

It’s also an excellent villain arc, though, if you ask me.

Trinte: Are you okay if I go to the battle tonight? Fynn and Orliana invited me, but I wanted your consent ahead of time.

Baby Pegasi flitter around in my belly. He wants to see me in a battle?

You just battled him directly, you ninny.

As far as I know, he’s never watched me in a fight, though. A small voice in my mind points out this is veering into ‌line-crossing territory, but I can’t find myself to care.

Kyrielle: I’m good. You? And yes, that’s fine.

Trinte: I’m completely fine. Okay, see you tonight.

***

The Speed Dating Event

“What if we don’t have any chemistry?” Kyrielle asks, taking a sip of her beer.

I give the thigh between my legs, her thigh, a pointed look. “Well, first off, I don’t usually have the legs of a beautiful woman I don’t like between mine.” When she tries to shift it away, I lock it between my knees, grinning. “Ah, ah, I was only trying to make a point.”

“Legs touching hardly implies chemistry,” she protests through a smile.

Offering my best panty-dropping grin, I say, “There is a way we can test it.”

Kyrielle’s eyebrows jump in interest. “Oh yes? Do tell.”

I crook a finger for her to lean forward. When she does, I quietly inhale her warm scent. She looks and smells like the finest dessert. Maintaining eye contact, I slide a hand past her jaw to the back of her head. Weaving fingers into her silky soft hair, I give it the tiniest tug. Her eyes flare; a sharp inhale parts her lips.

Bringing my mouth to hover above hers, I whisper, “How does this make you feel?”

Her breath is warm against my mouth, picking up its pace as the seconds pass. I watch every micro-expression as I apply a little more pressure. Her chin tilts up, that plump mouth widening further.

“How does this make you feel?” I purr again, ignoring the fact that dozens of people are around us. Some are probably watching.

“G-good,” she rasps out.

Kyrielle pulls against my hold on her hair, like she’s trying to bring our mouths together. “Tsk, tsk.” I raise my mouth a millimeter out of reach. “We’re testing a theory here; not actually kissing.”

She whimpers. “What is the theory?”

Tilting her head to the side, I bring my mouth to her ear. Against the soft skin, I whisper, “That without even kissing you, our chemistry is so good, you’re fucking dripping between those delicious thighs right now.”

Trinte’s not wrong; it’s an absolute waterfall between my thighs right now. Heart hammering against its mortal cage, all I can do is offer my mouth as an altar for worship.