The morning broke in silence, fractured only by the whisper of wind that stirred through the still fields of her space.
Lexi stretched lazily by the window, her reflection smirking back at her—eyes sharp, hair flowing, her figure outlined by the fitted black top she wore.
The top was sleeveless, clinging to her frame, paired with dark combat-style pants that hugged her hips but left her legs free for movement. She completed the look with sleek boots, the kind that made every step confident, dangerous.
She wanted the city.
She wanted the ruins, the supplies, the danger—the rush of playing with Derek outside the safety of her domain. She wanted to see how far he'd go for her again.
"Let's go shopping," she said, her voice light, playful, as if she were inviting him on an afternoon stroll rather than a raid into a corpse of a city.
Derek stood beside the doorway, broad and silent, his fitted dark shirt stretching over his chest and his expression unreadable. He didn't answer, but the slight tilt of his head meant only one thing: wherever she went, he would follow.
The city welcomed them like a wound left to rot. Cars clogged the streets, buildings leaned in broken silhouettes, and the stench of decay painted the air. The sound of dragging feet echoed faintly from somewhere unseen.
Lexi inhaled deeply, her lips curving. "Smells like home."
Zombies stumbled out from an alley almost immediately, arms reaching, jaws open.
Derek moved before she even blinked. One lunge—his hand clamped around its skull, twisting with a crunch that echoed down the street. Another rushed him; he slammed his fist into its chest, sending it flying into the crumbled side of a car. Bones cracked. Flesh tore.
Lexi leaned casually against a rusted lamp post, crossing her arms, eyes glittering. "So brutal… and all for me?"
He ignored her tone, stepping forward, ready for the next wave. But she didn't miss the flicker of tightness in his jaw.
She laughed softly, a dangerous melody.
The first store still had its glass doors shattered, aisles strewn with overturned shelves. Survivors had clearly scavenged before, but much remained—rows of body care products, snacks sealed in sturdy packaging, energy drinks untouched.
Lexi strolled inside like a queen surveying her court. She ran her hand along the shelves, picking up bottles, perfumes, creams. Whatever pleased her, she didn't bother carrying.
With a flick of her fingers, she tossed it into the shimmering pocket of her space, the items disappearing into nothingness.
"Hmm… cherry blossom lotion," she murmured, uncapping a bottle and rubbing a dab into her wrist. She stepped up to Derek, lifting her arm. "Smell."
He didn't move.
She leaned closer, deliberately brushing her wrist against his jaw. "Come now. Don't you want to know how your mistress smells?"
His hand closed around her wrist, lowering it gently but firmly. "We should move."
Her smile widened. "So serious. Do you fear losing control?"
For a flicker of a moment, his dark gaze locked with hers, and heat shot through her spine. Then he turned away. Silent. Controlled.
And that thrilled her more than anything.
They moved from store to store.
In one, she found racks of clothes. Most had been picked clean, but treasures remained: sleek leather jackets, fitted dark tops, tailored pants made of flexible fabric, cropped shirts that revealed glimpses of her toned stomach.
She changed right there in the aisle, stripping off her top for another, spinning in front of the cracked mirror.
"What do you think, Derek?" she teased, posing in a fitted red halter top that clung like a second skin over her combat pants.
He didn't answer, standing guard by the doorway, but she caught it—the faint, imperceptible shift of his gaze before he turned away.
"You looked," she whispered, amused. "You always look."
Every piece that pleased her vanished into her space: nightwear of silk, a dark denim jacket, boots, even a collection of perfumes and oils. She giggled to herself, plucking a pair of sunglasses and slipping them onto her face.
"A queen of ruin," she said, spinning on her heel as though modeling on a stage of broken glass.
Derek remained silent, but his silence burned.
The zombies never stopped coming.
Outside a convenience store, three stumbled forward. Derek shattered their skulls against the pavement, blood painting his arms. At an intersection, a horde of ten rushed them, drawn by the scent of life.
Derek tore through them like a storm. He seized one by the throat, slammed it to the ground, kicked another so hard its ribcage caved in. One lunged for Lexi, but before she could blink, Derek had ripped its head clean off, tossing it aside like garbage.
She clapped slowly, mock applause echoing down the street.
Then softer, her eyes gleaming.
When he finally turned, his chest rising and falling with restrained power, their gazes clashed. The street fell away. For a heartbeat, it was only them—the ruin, the blood, the hunger.
"You push me too far," he said, voice low, dangerous.
"And you endure," she whispered, stepping close enough her lips nearly brushed his jaw. "Because you belong to me."
The sun had started to fall when they finished raiding, Lexi content with her haul—every snack she wanted, every lotion, every piece of clothing that amused her safely tucked in her space.
When the final horde descended, dozens of zombies rushing from the cracked subway station, she felt her blood race—not from fear, but from anticipation.
"Don't hold back," she whispered.
Derek obeyed.
He became a weapon of destruction. His fists crushed skulls, his kicks shattered spines, his hands ripped limbs from bodies. Blood painted the cracked pavement until silence fell again, broken only by her slow, delighted laugh.
She walked up to him, placing her palm against his chest, feeling the heat of his power.
"Beautiful," she whispered.
His hand shot up, catching her wrist, firmer than before. His gaze bore into hers, hot, sharp, unyielding.
"You belong to me," she teased, her voice dropping, sultry.
His grip tightened. "No," he said simply, voice gravel and steel. "I am yours, always."
The world seemed to shudder at the weight of it.
Lexi shivered, lips curving into a dangerous smile.
When they returned to the space, she tossed everything in with lazy flicks of her fingers. But instead of chaos, her eyes widened with satisfaction.
Every bottle gleamed neatly on shelves, clothes folded and arranged, perfumes lined like soldiers. Snacks were stacked in tidy rows, shoes and jackets placed as if an unseen hand had carefully organized them.
Lexi clapped her hands together, delighted. "Perfect. My space knows me too well."
She brushed past Derek, her smirk never leaving her face. "Good trip," she teased.
He followed silently, his shadow burning hotter than fire.
She had provoked him all day.
And she wasn't done.