We were halfway through dinner. Delmar chewing methodically, K'liira hunched over her bowl, legs folded on the chair like a child trying to be small...when the doorbell rang.
My stomach dropped.
For a second, I sat frozen, spoon halfway to my mouth. Delmar looked up from his plate, his brows furrowing in quiet suspicion. K'liira, ever anxious, stilled entirely, eyes flicking toward me like I was supposed to explain the sudden disturbance in our fragile domestic bubble.
I stood, slow and uncertain, wiping my hands on my sweatpants. A weird sense of dread prickled down my spine. The bell rang again...sharper this time, impatient.
I padded toward the door, heart thudding, and glanced through the peephole.
Peter.
Of course. I should've known.
I considered, briefly, not opening the door. Just letting him stand there in the hallway until he got tired or cold or suspicious enough to leave. But knowing Peter... he'd probably call the cops or the super. Claim I had been kidnapped. Or worse—barge in with backup. There was never a middle ground with Peter. Only extremes.
With a breath I didn't want to take, I cracked open the door.
"Surprise!" he shouted, grinning wide as he held out a bottle of cheap champagne. "Guess who just got promoted?"
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice hoarse, eyes darting behind me toward the dining area where a shirtless merman was casually stabbing chicken with a fork.
"Kashton, c'mon, let me in." He brushed past me before I could say anything else, bounding into the apartment like he still had claim over the space. Like I hadn't spent the last week peeling myself away from the version of myself I was when I was with him.
He threw his arms around me, squeezing hard. "Senior research analyst, baby! I did it!"
"Wow. That's... that's great," I said, patting his back awkwardly. My smile was tight, my eyes trained on Delmar, who had paused mid-bite and was watching us like a hawk. His jaw was clenched, muscles rigid beneath the warm glow of the overhead light. K'liira, now sitting on the floor before the TV, looked as though she might bolt at the slightest provocation.
Peter finally pulled away, only to freeze.
"Oh," he said, blinking. "You have company?"
Delmar didn't move. He just stared, his fork slowly lowering to the table.
"Who are they?" Peter asked, eyeing both of them with thinly veiled suspicion. "Roommates?"
"My... friends," I said too quickly. "From back home."
"You never mentioned any friends from back home," he replied, tone suddenly sharp.
"We've only known each other a year, Peter," I said with a hollow chuckle that didn't fool anyone. "There's a lot you don't know about me."
Peter brushed past me again, walking deeper into the apartment like a detective who just smelled blood. His gaze swept over Delmar, then lingered far too long on K'liira, who had wrapped her arms around her knees protectively.
Delmar rose slowly from his chair, tall and rigid, a shadow cut from stillness. His eyes were locked onto Peter's hand as he extended it toward him.
"Hi. I'm Peter." He smiled, clueless, oblivious, extending a hand with too much confidence.
Delmar took it, briefly, and let go without a word. His expression was unreadable, but his fingers curled into fists at his sides. The tension rolled off of him in waves. I could practically feel the air tighten between us.
Peter's gaze flicked back to K'liira. "And who's this?"
"She's just... a friend," I said. My voice sounded strained.
"What's wrong with her skin?" he asked, taking a step closer. "Is she okay?"
"She has a skin condition," I blurted, hating how loud it came out. K'liira shrank a little, curling tighter into herself.
Peter tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. "Her eyes are... different."
"Peter, stop," I snapped, stepping between them.
Delmar's voice cut through the room like a blade. "You're making her uncomfortable."
Peter flinched. "What the hell is wrong with your voice?"
"He has a rare condition," I said quickly, my palms sweating. "Laryngeal... paralysis. It affects his tone. It's harmless."
Peter's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning.
"Were you in some kind of... rare condition support group or something?"
"Something like that," I muttered. "Peter, why are you here? I was about to go to bed. You didn't even call."
"I wanted to surprise you," he said, smile faltering for the first time. "I thought... we could celebrate. Together."
My mouth opened. Closed again.
Behind me, Delmar had sat back down at the table, but he wasn't eating anymore. His hands were flat on the surface, tense.
Peter hesitated by the living room for a beat too long. His smile faltered just a bit before he forced it back on.
"Anyway... I guess I'm not welcome, so I'll just leave," he said, laughter laced with brittle edges. "You guys enjoy your meal."
He stepped back, pausing to look over his shoulder. "And Kashton... I'll see you tomorrow. Dinner at my place. No excuses."
"Yes, sure, Peter," I muttered, my voice sounding more agreeable than I felt. It was the only thing that would make him leave without throwing a tantrum.
The door clicked shut behind him, and silence expanded in the room like a held breath. I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through my hair.
From behind me, Delmar's voice cut through the quiet.
"So that's the boyfriend?" His arms were crossed over his bare chest as he leaned lazily against the back of the chair. The expression on his face was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp.
"Mmm... yeah," I said with a shrug, collecting the empty plates and trying not to make eye contact.
"I do not like him," he stated flatly, like it wasn't even a discussion.
"I wasn't expecting you to," I replied, carrying our dishes into the kitchen. The clinking of ceramic on stainless steel echoed a little too loudly in the space.
Delmar's voice followed me like a shadow. "Did he touch you?"
I spun around, exasperated. "Really, Delmar? No. He didn't. We haven't even been together that long."
"Then why does he want you to eat with him tomorrow?"
"You're asking way too many questions," I said, focusing on rinsing a plate instead of the burn creeping up my neck.
"Are you going to answer?"
"I don't know. Maybe he just wants to spend time with me."
That was a lie. A weak one. Even I didn't believe it. Peter wanted to get in my pants from the first time he went on a date. I knew what dinner at his place meant.
Delmar's voice dropped lower, dangerous. "He wants to touch you, doesn't he?"
I set the plate down with a little more force than necessary. "Delmar, I'm not a child. If I don't want to have sex with him, he can't force me."
"Can't he though?" Delmar's tone was deceptively calm, but there was something volatile simmering underneath. "Didn't you see the way he was looking at K'liira?"
"Because she looks different," I snapped, spinning around. "Because she glows, and she's beautiful and strange, and...people stare. That's what they do."
"No," Delmar said, eyes dark and steady. "He wasn't just looking. He was leering. I could smell the perversion wafting from his body. Like rot."
I pressed my palm to the back of my neck, trying to will away the tension crawling up my spine. "This is... fuck. Okay? He's not a good person. But I have no choice. He's my only way in. My only source inside HMORC. If I want to find the truth about what happened to my father...what they're hiding...I have to stay close to Peter."
Delmar was quiet for a moment. Then, quietly but with steel in his voice, he said, "Fine. Do what you feel is right. But don't let him touch you."
I turned, eyes narrowing. "I can do whatever I want, Delmar."
He stepped forward, face unreadable. "You're disgusted by him, Kash. You flinch when he touches you. Moreover..." His voice dipped, low and full of fire. "You're mine. And if he even puts a finger on you, I'll kill him."
I stared at him, heart hammering in my chest. "Don't say that," I hissed. "I know what you're capable of. I don't want blood on your hands."
"I'm not threatening," he said softly, almost regretfully. "I'm promising. I won't let anyone hurt you."
I clenched my jaw. "Please. Just let me handle this. Don't add to the pressure. I need to do this my way."
Delmar walked toward me then, slow and careful, like he didn't want to spook me. His hand rose to cup my face, thumb brushing lightly against my cheek.
"I don't want you to feel pressured, Kash. I just want you safe. If this is really something you need to do, I'll stand by you. But don't go beyond your comfort. Don't let someone break you, just to find the truth. We'll figure this out together. You don't have to sleep with someone to get what you need."
I barked out a laugh, dry and a little bitter. "I'm not sleeping with Peter, Delmar. You can relax."
He gave a small nod, his thumb still tracing a line down my jaw. "Okay."
We stood there for a moment, just breathing each other in. His touch was so gentle it nearly broke me. Not possessive this time, just warm. Reassuring. Like a vow made without words.
And somehow, that scared me more than anything else.
***
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