You were running on fumes.

Your body ached, your hair was a mess, and your arms still carried the phantom sting of today’s fights—wanderers lunging out of shadows, endless ruins, hidden codes, malfunctioning protocores. You barely said a word when you got home. Just threw your gear to the floor, ignored the way Zayne’s eyes followed you, and retreated straight into autopilot.

Now it was late. The room was dim, the quiet humming from the street outside barely reaching through the windows. You moved like a ghost—unzipping your jacket, stepping out of your boots, tugging your top over your head. You didn’t even look at Zayne. You knew he was watching. He always did when you got like this.

He was already in bed, shirtless, resting on his side with one arm propped under him, waiting.

You turned your back to him as you lowered yourself onto the edge of the bed, ready to finally let the day go. But just as you started to lean forward to grab the blanket—

An arm slid around your waist. Firm. Purposeful.

You gasped, but he was already pulling you down with him, forcing you to lie back with a sudden tug that stole the breath from your lungs.

He hovered over you, his eyes narrowed but soft. “You gonna pretend I’m not here all night huh, princess?” he murmured, voice low and warm.

Before you could reply, he kissed you. Slow and deep, like he was trying to anchor you back to the world. His hand cradled the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek.

You melted under him, tension unraveling from your shoulders as his lips moved over yours. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed this—him. His touch. His grounding. His hands, his body. The right amount of cold and cool.. The right amount of freezer cold he knew you liked when you got pissed.