Chapter 21 Kristen
I stumbled through the front door like a ghost drifting into the wrong life. The house was too quiet, dim except for the warm flicker of the hallway lamp my mother always left on. My backpack slid from my shoulder, hit the floor with a dull thud. I didn’t even flinch. My legs moved on their own, dragging me to my room. Door shut. Lock clicked.
My body felt like it had been hollowed out. I couldn’t even explain it—like I’d spent the day holding something in, and now I was just running on fumes. I collapsed onto my bed face-up, eyes staring at the ceiling, heart refusing to slow. My brain wouldn’t stop circling the same stupid, impossible question. Was I a Leo?
I scoffed aloud, more of a breath than a sound. The idea was laughable. I didn’t have the looks, the confidence, or the lineage. At best, maybe I was an Ares—reckless, angry, a little too ready to throw a punch. But even that felt like a stretch. If I was anything, I was a Capron. Average. Unremarkable. Tethered to the ground like the rest of the world. Not a fire-breather. Not a sex-witch. Not a glowing, golden godling with a killer smile and secrets tucked into every bone.
I rolled onto my side and shut my eyes, hoping the darkness would bring silence. It didn’t. I didn’t even know what powers I was supposed to have—if any. What did it even mean? And why me? Why now?
It wasn’t just insane. It was cruel. Like someone had played a joke and hadn’t told me the punchline yet.
My fingers twitched. I sat up and rubbed my face, trying to scrape the exhaustion off. I tossed my school bag toward the chair by my desk, but it missed and hit the floor instead. Whatever. I didn’t care. I was just about to flop back when something caught my eye. Something bright, plastic, and maddeningly out of place.
The vibrator.
Still sealed. Still gleaming in its stupid little box like a secret too loud to ignore. I hadn’t even meant to take it. Or maybe I had. Maybe some part of me had known I would, the second I saw it in Leo’s stash. Buried among the other stolen or ‘borrowed’ treasures in his black duffel bag.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.
Heat curled low in my stomach, sharp and immediate. I bit my bottom lip, heart now pounding for an entirely different reason. My fingers itched. For a second I just stared, unsure if I was going to grab it or throw it out the window.
Then I reached for it.
It was heavier than I expected. My palms tingled as I pulled it free of the packaging. Sleek, curved, the color of wine, the button catching the light like a dare. I set it on the bed beside me and stripped off my shirt. My jeans followed in a swift, careless kick. My panties were already damp, the cotton clinging to me in a way that made everything worse.
I lay back, naked, the vibrator cool against my palm. When I clicked it on, it buzzed to life, humming like it knew exactly what I needed.
I pressed it to my clit, and everything in me jerked.
God.
It was too much and not enough at once. My body arched, hips grinding toward the pressure, chasing that perfect friction. The sound of the toy was swallowed by the thrum in my ears, the rush of my own ragged breathing. I closed my eyes.
And there he was.
The faceless man from my dreams.
He never had a name. Never had eyes. Just a body that made promises with every line and shadow. He stood at the edge of my bed, all golden skin and sculpted sin, wearing nothing but white briefs that did absolutely nothing to hide how hard he was. His erection strained against the thin fabric, the head already slick, glistening.
“You’ve missed me, haven’t you?”
His voice was deep, rough, laced with mockery and heat. I whimpered.
“I can see it,” he went on, taking a step closer. “You’re soaked. Just thinking about me makes you drip.”
I gasped, fingers tightening around the toy. The image of him burned into the backs of my eyelids. He was right. I was soaked. I was shaking, aching, grinding up into every word like they were fingers themselves.
“Touch yourself for me,” he said.
I didn’t hesitate. The vibrator circled tighter, faster. I moaned.
“Good girl.”
He crouched at the foot of the bed, muscles flexing, cock tenting the briefs to the point of obscenity. Then he crawled up between my legs, his hands spreading my thighs like they belonged to him. He inhaled, groaned, then dove in.
His tongue licked a long, hot stripe up my center. I cried out, hips jerking, the toy nearly falling from my hand. But he held me still, eating me like he’d been starving for weeks. He licked, bit, sucked, growled—all of it with a hunger that had no bottom. My thighs trembled. Sweat slicked my chest.
Then came the fingers.
One, then two, thick and perfect, sliding deep and curling just right. He fucked me with his hand while his mouth stayed glued to my clit, tongue moving faster, more desperate. Like he needed me to come. Like he couldn’t breathe until I did.
I felt it build. The pressure. The dizzy, hot swirl that started in my stomach and shot out in every direction. My body coiled. My toes curled. My moans grew higher, sharper. I was going to come. I was right on the edge. Just a little more, just—
Leo.
His face.
It flashed through my mind like a scream.
Golden eyes. Wicked smirk. The weight of his body against mine in the alley. The way he said Kristen like it was a curse and a prayer at once.
My breath caught.
The faceless man vanished like smoke. My orgasm fizzled. Everything inside me jerked sideways.
I was so close. So close.
But it was gone.
My heart thundered in confusion and frustration. I let the vibrator fall beside me, panting, the sweat on my skin cooling too fast. What the hell was that? Why him? Why now?
I didn’t even have time to process before—
A knock.
“Kristen?”
My stomach dropped.
Patricia.
“You okay in there?”
Panic hit like a freight train. I scrambled upright, limbs fumbling. My fingers dove for the vibrator, tossing it under the pillow with a hissed curse. My shirt was halfway on when I heard it.
The doorknob.
Turning.
Fuck.