The cold night air hit Rhys like a physical bucket of ice water the moment he stepped out of the back of the sedan. His legs felt like lead, his hands trembling violently as he hastily zipped his trousers, buttoned his shirt, and desperately tried to smooth out the severe wrinkles in his clothes.
“This should have never happened, Vespera,” Rhys spat in a frantic, terrified whisper, adjusting his collar to hide the raw, red marks on his neck. “Never again. We are done.”
Vespera, effortlessly adjusting the silk dress over her curves and running a hand through her silver pixie cut, only chuckled. She stepped close, her pointed cat-elf ears twitching in delight, and pulled him in by his lapels for one last, deep, shameless kiss that tasted of wine and triumph.
“Oh, sweetie,” she purred against his lips, her leopard-spotted tail flicking lazily behind her. “We are nowhere near done. I’ll be calling you soon. Be ready.”
Before Rhys could even swallow the cold dread in his throat, the front door of his house clicked open. Light flooded the driveway as the party spilled outside. The heroes—Marcus, Soren, and Valerie—were heading for their cars, with Lira leading the group down the steps.
Rhys froze, his heart slamming into his ribs.
Lira stopped, her starlight eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the scene: her husband standing by the sedan in the dark driveway next to their landlord, both of them looking distinctly flushed and disheveled.
“Rhys?” Lira asked, mild confusion lacing her commanding voice. “What are you two doing out here in the cold?”
“I—I was just helping her!” Rhys blurted out, forced to think on his feet while his pulse hammered in his ears. He gestured nervously to Vespera. “She... she came out of the guest bathroom still feeling really sick, so I was just helping her down to her car so she could head home and rest.”
Vespera’s slitted amber eyes glittered with absolute, evil amusement. She leaned against the driver’s door, taking the lie and running with it, a wicked, lingering grin on her lips.
“Yes, thank you so much for having me, Astraea,” Vespera cooed, her voice dripping with sweet, subtle poison. “And I really must compliment you on your husband. Rhys was such a gentleman. He took exceedingly good care of me inside.”
Rhys felt his stomach do a violent, nauseating flip.
To his complete and utter horror, Lira didn’t suspect a thing. She simply offered a faint, proud smile, her usual cool demeanor softening. “You’re very welcome, Miss Vane. Rhys has always been attentive to those in need.”
Lira stepped closer, reaching out to wrap her arms around Rhys’s shoulders to pull him into a warm, lingering kiss.
Panic exploded in Rhys’s mind. He was covered in Vespera’s scent. He had her lipstick on his lips, her perfume on his collar, and his skin was still burning from the last hour. If Lira got within three inches of his face, her hyper-attuned, cosmic senses would pick up everything in a heartbeat.
“Ah—hey!” Rhys stammered, turning his head at the very last second so her lips only grazed his cheek, while gently stepping back and placing a firm hand on her shoulder under the guise of an affectionate hug. “Let’s... let’s give our guests some space to say goodbye first, honey!”
Lira blinked, looking slightly surprised by his sudden, jittery avoidance, but she nonchalantly brushed it off, turning back to the group. Rhys exhaled a breath he felt like he’d been holding for a century, quickly wiping his mouth with his sleeve while her back was turned.
He moved around the driveway, exchanging quick, stiff goodbyes with Valerie and Soren, trying his absolute best to act like a normal, domestic host while his entire world balanced on a knife’s edge.
As they all gathered near the vehicles, Marcus stepped up to Vespera’s matte-black sedan, his massive frame towering over the sleek car. He frowned slightly, looking at Vespera, who was leaning a little too heavily against the frame, her slitted eyes heavy with satisfaction.
“You know, Miss Vane,” Marcus boomed, his deep voice carrying across the quiet suburban street, “you look a little too dizzy to be behind the wheel. Given that wine you drank, you probably shouldn’t drive.”
“Oh, I’m feeling quite taken care of, big guy,” Vespera purred, her tail flicking lazily.
“I’ll drive her home,” Marcus volunteered easily, grabbing the driver’s side handle. “I can just fly back to my place afterward. We wouldn’t want our host’s landlord getting into an accident on the way back.”
Rhys stood on the driveway beside his radiant, completely oblivious wife, watching as Marcus opened the door for Vespera. Before she slid into the passenger seat, Vespera looked back over her shoulder, catch Rhys’s eye through the dim moonlight. She blew him a faint, lingering kiss, her amber eyes silently promising that this was only the beginning of his sentence.