Location: Kira's Home > Heading into town

Kira’s eyes slowly blinked open, the dim orange glow of them cutting through the pitch black that engulfed her room. In an instant, her senses surged back to life—a flash flood of sounds and scents. Every distant breath and heartbeat resuming their steady rhythm in her ears.

She felt the disturbance before she saw it—a presence beside her, far too familiar in its intimacy and yet wholly foreign. Deep, even breathing. The scent of sweat and alcohol lingering in the air. A stranger.

Her gaze slid over to him—a man, sprawled out like he belonged in her space, black hair cut too short, a thick, untidy beard framing his face. Bare chest exposed to the cold, muscles lax and unworried. Older than her. Moderately handsome. Not that it mattered.

On a mission, it never had.

Kira’s lips curled into a grimace as she instinctively pulled her leg back from where it brushed his—an intrusion she hadn’t noticed before, and now couldn’t stand. Disgust coiled around her like a snake.

With a sharp movement, she ripped the blanket off him and swiftly bundled it around herself. He jolted awake with a startled gasp, looking around in groggy confusion, brown eyes trying to focus on her.

“Get out,” Kira growled, voice low and cold.

Recognition sparked in his eyes, and his mouth opened—likely to protest—but the fight bled out of him before he could speak. His expression went blank, and he obeyed without question. Silently, he stood and gathered his scattered clothes with a vacant, glassy stare. Kira didn’t move, disdain seeping through every part of her as she watched him.

A bruise, deep and dark, marred his neck. Right where her fangs had sunk into his jugular. Memories of last night flashed through her mind.

The way he’d stopped her from pursuing Elara with that self-important tone, telling her about alarm bells like she was some clueless little thing. She’d given him a deadly, easy smile, stepping closer, lowering her voice into a teasing purr—luring him in with honey-sweet words and false vulnerability.

She could use some strong, sturdy hands to guide her home, couldn’t she? Someone to protect her from the big, bad night.

He’d melted into the palm of her hand so easily when they’d reached her home. His hands hadn’t been so sturdy as they’d trembled around her body with excitement. She’d whispered into his ear as she backed him into a wall.

Had he ever been with a blight-born before? Did he know what it felt like to belong to one?

She’d told him. Warned him. But he didn’t seem to mind—or understand.

She hadn’t cared to explain it any further.

Her fangs had sunk into his neck, hot blood flooding her senses, seeping through her veins like molten fire. His heart had quickened and he’d groaned, but he didn’t pull away. Her venom seeped into his bloodstream, clouding his mind. He was intoxicated in an instant, made pliable and eager. Too far gone to care about the danger wrapped around him.

His hands had been on her before she was done drinking, and by the time they’d stumbled into bed, she’d been just as inebriated—drunk on the power, the warmth and the taste of life on her tongue.

She didn’t yet know if she felt guilty for it.

Now, Kira’s gaze remained cold as he finished dressing, never meeting her eyes as he slipped out the door without a word, still under her influence. Once the room was empty, she tossed the blanket aside and began to dress herself. She felt sharper—more herself than she had in days. Her energy refueled. Whatever chaos had threatened to overtake her yesterday had settled, leaving her feeling strangely stable.

Before heading out the door, she pulled on her coat and tucked a hidden dagger into her waistband. With a final glance around, she stepped outside, the cold biting at her face. She made her way to the tavern, craving something warm. She could no longer stomach food, but coffee would do.

With any luck, the tavern would be quieter than yesterday. If not, she'd find a dark corner to blend into, giving her space to drink in peace before she allowed the Sages to start another round of their infernal poking and prodding.