It started with a storm.
Not gentle rain. No. The sky cracked open like it was furious, and every drop hit the earth like it had been waiting years to fall.
Seraphina pushed open the half-rotted door of the watchtower, soaked to the skin, her hair clinging to her neck, dress glued to every inch of her body like betrayal.
Rhys followed, boots slamming into the stone, hair dripping, jaw clenched like it was holding back confessions.
Inside, it was dark. Broken. Silent but for the sound of water dripping from their bodies and the distant, howling wind.
She turned to him.
"Perfect day for infrastructure inspection," she muttered.
"You planned this, didn't you?"
She didn't answer.
Rhys watched her—watched her wring out the hem of her dress, the way the fabric clung to her waist, her collarbone, her thighs. His hands curled into fists and released, like he was trying to put his thoughts back into his ribs where they belonged.
"You look," he said hoarsely, "dangerous."
She smiled, slow and wet and wicked. "That's not new."
Then silence. That unbearable, swollen quiet that only exists when something wants to happen.
He took a step forward. She didn't move.
He raised a hand to her face—just shy of her cheek. Not touching. Hovering. Shaking slightly.
"Don't," he said, more to himself than to her. "Don't make me fall."
She leaned in. Not touching. Close enough for her breath to warm his mouth.
"You already did."
She didn't wait for him to close the space.
She kissed him.
Hard. Fast. Like a dare. Like she was proving a point.
His hands gripped her waist instantly—tight, like he didn't trust the world not to take her away mid-moment. She pressed him back into the wall, lips parted, breath shared, every bit of frustration they'd built between them snapping like a pulled thread.
It didn't last long.
Just enough.
Just enough for both of them to feel what was underneath.
Then she pulled away.
He blinked, stunned, chest rising.
She adjusted her hair. Straightened her dress like nothing had happened.
"Now," she said, her voice calm but her pulse betraying her, "let's get to work."