Chapter 127

The knock on the door startled me awake. It wasn’t loud or urgent, but after years of training myself to sleep on high alert, the sound was enough to pull me from my dreams. My eyes opened immediately.

"Who is it?" I rasped, my voice thick with sleep.

"It’s me… Kenzo." The response came through the door, his tone oddly soft and tinged with unease.

I hesitated for a moment before crawling out of bed, raking my fingers through my hair in an attempt to smooth it out. As I shuffled to the door, the grogginess lingered, making me feel unsteady. I pulled it open and blinked up at him.

"What do you need?" I mumbled, trying to focus on his face.

The first thing I noticed was the way his fitted tank top clung to his broad shoulders, accentuating his powerful build and the sharp lines of his collarbones. His face was unshaven, a shadow of stubble darkening his jawline, chin, and cheeks. His hair, slightly disheveled, fell in waves that gave him an untamed, rugged appeal. He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable, then his eyes drifted downward.

It wasn’t until I followed his gaze that I realized what he was seeing—bare feet and the black silk nightdress that hung loosely on my frame, its thin straps doing little to shield me from his scrutiny. Embarrassed, I slipped behind the door, leaving only my face visible.

"Kenzo," I said more sharply, "what do you want?"

He chuckled lightly, though there was a nervous edge to it.

"I wanted to ask if you’d have breakfast with me," he said, a small, uncertain grin tugging at his lips.

I exhaled heavily, already weighing how to decline, but his next words gave me pause.

"You can take your time," he added quickly. "I’ll wait. And I promise—no weird outfits or anything."

His attempt at humor softened my resolve. Narrowing my eyes, I searched his face for hidden motives, but he seemed sincere.

"Fine," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Twenty minutes."

"Perfect. I’ll come get you then," he replied, his grin widening before he turned and disappeared down the hall.

Closing the door, I leaned against it and sighed. Doubts swirled in my mind, but I reminded myself that Kenzo was the Alpha of the pack I was staying with. Building some rapport with him was probably wise. Besides, I needed to discuss joining his warriors for the fight against the Southern Moon Pack.

I shook off my hesitation and headed to the bathroom. A quick shower chased away the remnants of sleep, and I changed into a soft pink button-up shirt and a pair of jeans. Skipping heavy makeup, I opted for a simple gloss to moisturize my lips. By the time I finished tying my hair into a ponytail, Kenzo’s knock echoed through the room again.

"Hope you’re hungry," he said with a grin, reaching for my hand.

Before I could protest, he led me downstairs. I expected him to take me to the dining room, but instead, he steered us past it and into the kitchen. The space was empty, save for the two of us. He guided me to a seat at the table in the center of the room.

Without a word, Kenzo moved to the cupboards, pulling out plates, cups, and cutlery. Setting the table with swift efficiency, he turned to me with a smirk.

"You’re not a vegetarian, are you?"

"Um… no," I answered, watching him retrieve vegetables and eggs from the fridge.

"No allergies?" he asked, heating a frying pan on the stove.

I shook my head, too distracted by the sight of him moving effortlessly around the kitchen to form a coherent response. There was something mesmerizing about the way his muscles tensed as he chopped the vegetables with precision, his confidence palpable.

"Do you like bacon?" he asked suddenly, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah," I said, startled. My cheeks flushed when I realized he’d caught me staring.

He chuckled, laying strips of bacon on a grill pan. I tried to focus on anything but the way his shirt clung to him, or the bulge in his sweatpants that seemed impossible to ignore. My thoughts were spiraling into dangerous territory, fueled by memories of Hadrian. Before him, I hadn’t known what it felt like to crave someone’s touch. Now, every unfulfilled desire burned more intensely, and my traitorous body was keen to remind me of it.

Kenzo’s voice snapped me back to reality.

"Coffee?" he asked, placing a plate of food in front of me.

His chest was so close that it was a struggle to keep my eyes on his face.

"Yes. Please," I murmured, turning my gaze to the stove as if it had suddenly become fascinating.

"Soy milk okay?" he asked, already moving toward the fridge.

"That’s fine," I said, forcing a smile.

He set the milk on the table before sitting beside me, his smirk unmistakable. He leaned forward, studying me as I picked at my food.

"You don’t like it?"

"It’s good," I assured him, shoving a bite into my mouth.

His next words caught me off guard.

"I want to know everything about you, Thalassa. Every little thing."

The sincerity in his voice tugged at something deep inside me, and I suddenly felt the sting of unshed tears. Hadrian had never asked me anything like that. He’d relied on research, cold and clinical, rather than caring about who I really was.

Kenzo’s hand covered mine, his warmth grounding me.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

I nodded, but the words slipped out before I could stop them.

"Thanks to you."

The words slipped from my lips before I could catch them, unfiltered and entirely unintended. That wasn’t what I had meant to say! An awkward smile crept across my face as I scrambled to correct myself, desperate to explain that I was referring only to his touch, nothing more. But before I could form a coherent sentence, Kenzo acted.

He leaned in, closing the distance between us with a boldness that took my breath away. His lips brushed against mine, soft and deliberate, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I froze. My body refused to move, my thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. My mind needed time to reboot, to process what was happening, but Kenzo didn’t give it that luxury.

His hand slid behind my head, fingers tangling in my hair as his lips claimed mine again, this time with more insistence. His kiss was tender yet commanding, coaxing a response from me even as my rational mind protested. I should have pushed him away, stopped him—anything but this. But my body betrayed me, silencing every logical thought and surrendering to the pull of his touch.

I was supposed to be angry at him, furious even. Instead, I found myself melting into the intensity of his embrace. His kisses grew deeper, hungrier. His tongue brushed against my lips, parting them, and before I knew it, I was kissing him back. My responses felt instinctual, primal, like they belonged to a part of me I didn’t recognize. Every stroke of his tongue, every caress of his lips built a fire inside me I couldn’t control.

A soft moan escaped me, unbidden and undeniable. The sound seemed to ignite something in him, his eyes burning with a heat that sent shivers down my spine. In one swift motion, he shoved the plates off the table, the clatter of porcelain barely registering in my haze. Suddenly, I found myself perched on the edge of the table, his hands guiding me as he stepped closer.

One hand slid up my back, steadying me, while the other traveled boldly along my inner thigh. The pressure of his touch, even through the fabric of my jeans, sent shockwaves through me. My breath hitched as he grazed a place that made my entire body tense. It was in that moment—a lightning strike of clarity—that my senses returned.

"Stop!" I cried, my voice trembling as I pushed him away with all the strength I could muster.

He stepped back, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just run a marathon. His eyes were dark, filled with a lust that made my stomach churn with both desire and regret.

I stared at him, still trying to piece together what had just happened. My body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve on edge as if I’d been caught in a storm. Words failed me. A more mature, rational person might have said something to diffuse the tension, but I couldn’t summon anything close to composure.

I slid off the table, my legs barely steady beneath me, and bolted. I didn’t look back, didn’t wait to see if he would follow. My only thought was to get away, to retreat to the safety of my room.

When I reached it, I slammed the door shut, leaning against it as though the solid wood could protect me from what had just transpired. My fingers brushed my lips, still tingling from his kiss, and the reality of what had happened crashed down on me like a tidal wave.

"What the hell have I done?" I whispered to myself, the question echoing in the silence of the room.