I was dreaming of gold foil and applause.
In the dream, my illustration—a series of whimsical, lonely houses under too-bright moons—had just won a big award. The crowd was on their feet, cheering. Flashbulbs popped. Someone handed me a crystal trophy that caught the light like stardust. For once, I didn't feel small. I felt… brilliant.
I was basking in it—soaking up every second of this rare, perfect validation—when a voice cut through the moment like a fly buzzing in a glass of champagne.
In the front row, a woman stood up.
I didn't know her, but God, did I want her to sit back down.
She was pointing at me, lips flapping nonstop, saying something that clearly wasn't "Congratulations."
"Excuse me," I said, through gritted teeth. "I'm kind of having my moment here."
She kept going.
I launched the certificate at her. Not even out of anger—just desperate annoyance.
She caught it. Effortlessly.
Then tossed it right back at me.
Still talking. Still ruining everything.
It smacked me in the face.
And I woke up.
Sunlight leaked through the curtains in faint yellow stripes. The bed beside me was empty. Good. That meant the universe still had some sense of decency left.
But the voice—that had been real. It was still real. Female. Muffled. Coming from the next room.
I sat up, blinking the last of the dream from my eyes, hair sticking in about twelve directions. That voice… was coming from what used to be my studio.
I slid out of bed, toes pressing cautiously into the warm floorboards. The door was cracked open. I padded across the room, careful not to make a sound, and pressed my ear to the wood.
"…can't believe you're just sitting here. Your back… it's barely there. Have you finally—"
The voice was sharp, impatient. And something else. Fear? Disbelief?
Kaen replied. His voice, lower and even, was too soft to make out. That same rough calm, like gravel under velvet.
The woman—whoever she was—snapped again.
"Handled? The blood scent is everywhere! And your wound? It's… it's sealing. That's not possible unless you've fully—"
Fully what?
My spine tingled. I leaned in slightly, just a bit closer—
"Kaen," she said, suddenly cold. "There's a mouse."
Wait. A what?
The door didn't open. It exploded.
I yelped as the hinges gave way and splinters rained into the room. A blur of black leather and silver hair flew through the opening and crossed the space like a missile.
Then—slam.
A hand locked around my throat and pinned me to the wall.
For the second time in twelve hours, I found myself breathless, pinned, and blinking up at a terrifyingly beautiful stranger. This one was female, her platinum hair gleaming in the light like a blade. Her storm-colored eyes glared down at me with pure, murderous focus.
"Eavesdropping, little human?" she purred.
The claws of panic dug into my gut, but I shoved them back down. This was still my house. My wall. My throat. I tilted my chin up, ignoring the crushing pressure.
"In my house," I rasped, "we usually knock."
Her eyes flicked, startled. Just for a second.
I took it.
"I assume you're with… him." I flicked my gaze toward the figure in the hallway.
Kaen.
He was shirtless—again—and watching, completely unreadable. Calm, almost bored. Like I was a squirrel trapped in a fence and he was debating whether to intervene.
I turned back to the woman. "You can both go now. I'll be in touch with my sister about the money. The situation will be resolved."
Total bluff. I had no plan. No money. No functioning phone. But I was on a roll and too pissed off to stop.
Her grip didn't loosen. Instead, she sneered. "I don't think you're in a position to make demands, mouse."
"Selene," Kaen said quietly. Just one word—but the weight behind it was enough.
She froze. Then, with a slow, reluctant movement, she let go of my throat.
I staggered back, gasping for breath as the air burned its way into my lungs—then shot a glance at Kaen and froze.
His back.
It was clean. Smooth. Not a scratch in sight.
Last night it had been covered in blood.
"Your shoulder," I said, my voice cracking. "You were… you were bleeding. I saw it."
Kaen's gaze sharpened. There was a flicker there—interest. Or maybe calculation.
The woman—whoever she was—was done listening.
Without warning, she released me and stepped back. One hand dipped into her leather jacket and came out holding a short, jagged-edged knife.
"She knows too much," she said flatly. "Let me clean this up."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Seriously? Again?
Why were all the ridiculously hot people in my house trying to kill me?
Was this a theme?
And then it hit me.
The tension. The protectiveness. The shirtlessness.
Of course.
They were lovers.
That explained everything. The secrecy. The drama.
"Wait," I choked, hands up. "You don't have to—"
My heel hit air.
Oh no.
The stairs.
The world tilted, and gravity won.
I screamed as I tumbled backward. The splintered doorway, her knife, Kaen's unreadable expression—all spun above me in a dizzying blur.
For one long second, I was weightless.
In that second, I thought about the parents I never met. The life I hadn't lived. The dumb little dreams I hadn't checked off.
And I knew, with gut-clenching clarity—
This time, I was absolutely, totally screwed.