CHAPTER 182: DRY

Lor’s throat went dry, a mix of heat and unease curling in his gut.

Her intensity, the way she claimed him, was both thrilling and unsettling.

"You want to stay with me all the time?" he asked, his voice quieter, testing.

"Yes." No hesitation, her eyes locked on his, unwavering.

He swallowed, the weight of her words pressing against him. "Then... maybe I’ll just go home. Sleep. I’ve had enough for one day."

Kiara’s grip tightened, her fingers digging into his arm, her voice slicing through the air like glass.

"No." Her eyes flashed, a witch’s fire burning behind them. "Don’t give up, Lor. Don’t retreat into yourself and think the problem goes away if you hide. Trust me. Keep me by your side, every time you let your lust flow. That’s when she’ll come for you. And that’s when I’ll catch her."

He stared at her, unease twisting tighter in his chest. "You want me to... keep doing this? These rituals? The guidance? The offerings?"

"Yes." Her voice was steady, resolute, her gaze holding his like a chain.

The street’s lanterns flickered, casting shadows that danced across her face, but her conviction was a fixed point, unyielding.

Lor let out a hollow laugh. "That’s insane. Maybe I should just stop. Stop all of it—the guiding light act, the rituals, the erotic stuff with other girls. Just stick to having sex with you. You’re my girlfriend right. That should be enough."

The color drained from Kiara’s face, a flicker of panic flashing in her blue eyes before she caught it, her lips tightening to mask the slip.

"No," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the evening air. "Don’t suppress it. Don’t you dare."

Lor blinked, his frown deepening, suspicion prickling at the edges of his confusion. "Why not? You love having sex with me, you said it yourself. Isn’t that enough?"

Kiara stepped closer, her tone softening but urgent, almost pleading.

"I do love it. More than anything. But you can’t shut down your energy. Don’t you understand? If you try to cork it, it twists, it festers—it weakens you. You need to let it flow freely. That’s what keeps you strong. That’s what makes you, you."

He narrowed his eyes, the unease in his chest tightening. "What you said just now was weird. You’re acting weird."

"I’m not—"

"Yes, you are." He leaned in, his gaze sharp, searching her face for cracks.

"You’re insisting I keep throwing myself into these lust games even though there’s a damn spirit trying to suck me dry. Why? I still feel like you’ve got something to do with it."

Kiara’s expression hardened, but her voice stayed steady, her eyes burning with conviction.

"Lor. Listen to me. If I wanted your energy, I wouldn’t hide behind pink smoke and illusions. I’d walk through your door, climb into your bed, and take my time." Her lips curved faintly, a ghost of her usual mischief, but her seriousness held firm. "You know me. You know I would."

He hesitated, her words striking true.

Kiara never played coy about her hunger—she’d been upfront from the start, her witch-blood nature no secret.

The spirit’s secrecy, its cold, predatory touch, didn’t match her fire, her openness.

Still, his chest felt tight, his mind spinning in circles, caught between trust and the shadow of those glowing eyes.

"Fine," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face, his fingers lingering over the stubble on his jaw. "I’m going home."

Kiara tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying him. "Weren’t you going to Olivia’s?"

Lor froze mid-step, turning to face her, his pulse spiking. "...How do you know that?"

She smirked, though her eyes remained serious, steady.

"It’s obvious. You were walking toward her house. You’ve got that grin on your face, the one that says you’re plotting something lewd. Don’t look at me like I’m spying—I can read you, Lor."

He bristled, suspicion still prickling, but her smirk was so familiar, so Kiara, that it dulled the edge of his unease.

She crossed her arms, the motion pulling her shirt taut against her curves, and raised a brow.

"Stop being so suspicious of me. Trust me."

Lor studied her for a long beat, the city’s evening hum fading into the background—merchants packing away carts, the clatter of shutters closing, the soft laughter of a family nearby.

Finally, he exhaled, giving the smallest nod. "...Fine. What do I do then?"

Her smirk softened into something steadier, more resolute. "Let’s go to Olivia’s. Do your thing. I’ll stand guard. If the spirit comes, I’ll catch her."

Lor’s frown deepened, his thoughts a tangle of lust and fear, temptation warring with the shadow of that pink figure.

The idea of Olivia—her serious expression, her generous curves, the way she’d meet his demands with a raised brow—sparked a familiar thrill, but the memory of cold hands pinning him silent soured it just as fast.

"...I’m not in the mood anymore," he admitted, his voice flat, drained.

Kiara studied him, her gaze softening, and then she sighed, her shoulders loosening.

"Fine." She reached out, her knuckles brushing his cheek in a gesture so tender it caught him off guard. "Then I’ll drop you home."

He didn’t resist when she took his arm, her touch warm and grounding.

They stepped out of the narrow alley into the open street, lanterns casting long golden streaks across the cobblestones.

Evening had settled fully over the city, the horizon bruised violet and red, the marketplace quieting as carts vanished and families retreated behind closed shutters.

The air carried the faint scent of river salt and cooling bread, a soft counterpoint to the turmoil in Lor’s chest.

He walked beside Kiara in silence, his steps heavy, his mind still churning.

Exhausted. Confused.

The chill of that dream-spirit lingered in his bones, a cold weight that her presence couldn’t fully dispel.

He had no answers, only questions piling higher, and even Kiara’s steady warmth wasn’t enough to silence the dread creeping through him.

But as they moved through the town, her arm linked with his, he felt the faintest spark of resolve—she was with him, and together, they’d face whatever hunted him in the dark.

Right?