Temptation Tastes Like War
**Kaia**
The morning after shouldn't have felt like this.
My body still ached from Damon's touch—the bruises of pleasure blooming like confessions across my skin. But there was no peace. Just war. And I'd let the enemy bury himself between my thighs again.
I hated that I wanted more.
I hated *him*.
I stood in his penthouse kitchen wrapped in nothing but one of his shirts. It hung off me like a broken vow. My thighs were still sticky with last night's sins.
He walked in shirtless, coffee in hand like he hadn't just ruined me hours ago.
He looked like power.
He *was* power.
And I was supposed to be the one tearing it from him.
"You're still here," he said.
"I wanted to see your face when I tell you I don't forgive you."
His mouth twitched. "You're welcome to keep punishing me."
I stepped closer, fire in my voice. "You think this is some twisted game? That I'll just fall into bed with you every time you touch me?"
"I don't think," he murmured. "I *know*."
And just like that, he dropped the mug. Let it shatter on the floor.
Then he grabbed me.
Pinned me to the wall again with a hunger that had no right feeling this good.
"Say it again," he rasped against my throat. "Say you don't want me."
I tried.
I *swear* I tried.
But his hands were already under the shirt, finding the heat between my thighs like they owned it. His mouth crashed onto mine, savage and slick.
He spun me, bent me over the marble counter, and growled in my ear, "You hate me? Show me."
And I did.
We both did.
We were teeth and tongue, hands and hunger.
And when he slid into me from behind, I screamed his name like a curse.
Every thrust was vengeance. Every moan was betrayal.
I was dripping. Furious. Addicted.
When we came together, it was a war cry.
He collapsed over me, breath hot against my neck. "Tell me you're done with me."
But I couldn't.
Because even if I burned for revenge—
I burned for *him* more.
---
Later, I showered alone.
Scrubbed my skin like I could erase him.
But I couldn't erase the memory that had started flickering again… one that hadn't surfaced in years.
A girl.
A voice.
A *name.*
"Nyx…"
I blinked. The water ran cold.
Nyx.
Why did that name feel like blood in my mouth?
---
**Damon**
When she left again, she didn't look back.
Good.
I wasn't sure how long I could keep hiding the truth if she stared at me like that again—like I was the boy who once swore he'd protect her from monsters.
The cruelest part?
I *was* the monster.
I knew she was remembering.
Nyx.
I hadn't heard that name in years either.
She'd been my sister.
She'd *died* because of what we were trying to stop.
And now Kaia was remembering her?
That couldn't be coincidence.
It meant one thing.
They were connected.
And if Kaia figured out how deep that connection went?
She'd never forgive me for more than just the past.
She'd want to watch me burn.
---
**Kaia**
I needed answers.
The name wouldn't stop echoing in my head—Nyx, Nyx, Nyx.
I went back to Cyrus. Demanded the rest of the files.
And that's when I saw it.
A photograph.
Two girls. Young. Drugged. Crying.
One was me.
The other?
Black hair. Pale eyes. The same features as Damon.
Nyx Wolfe.
"She was your test partner," Cyrus said.
"What happened to her?"
He hesitated. "She died."
"No." My voice broke. "She didn't. I *felt* her."
"She's gone, Kaia."
But I didn't believe it.
Somewhere deep in my soul, I *knew*—
Nyx was alive.
And she was close.