"What the hell, Kieran?! Do you want people to misunderstand?! You make it sound like we—"
He shrugged, totally unbothered. "I mean, technically, I did wake up with you pressed all over me like a heat pack. So. I'm not wrong."
I groaned into my palms.
"Just—leave me alone. I'm dying."
But he caught my arm and gently, annoyingly, dragged me to the living room. "Nah. Sit. You need fluids."
Too weak to argue, I plopped down on the new plush rug, which was so freaking soft I almost cried again. Like. Who authorized this luxury?? But I couldn't even enjoy it because I was very aware of the horror movie happening in my uterus and the terrifying possibility of staining this snow-white cloud beneath me.
He set the tea in front of me and nodded toward it.
"Drink."
I leaned in, sniffed it suspiciously. "Does it have sugar?"
He blinked. "...What?"
"I'm not really a tea person," I muttered. "If it has sugar, I'll manage. But if it tastes like depression, I'm gonna need backup."
Kieran's expression darkened like I just personally offended his ancestors.
He set his own cup down with dramatic precision, sat across from me on the rug, and leveled me with that scary mob boss look. "Do you realize the state you're in right now?"
"I'm fine—"
"You were passed out on the floor an hour ago."
"I didn't ask for tea, I'm okay—"
"You're not okay, dumbass."
I tried to crawl away, scooting backward like a guilty dog. "I just don't like tea! You don't have to—"
He was faster.
One second I was trying to escape.
Next thing I knew?
He caught me by the ankle, dragged me back, and pinned me down with one hand flat against the rug beside me.
My eyes widened.
"What the hell—"
"If you don't drink this tea," he said calmly, "I will tie you up and make you drink every last drop."
There was no teasing in his voice. Just a quiet, scary patience.
My mouth dropped open. "You wouldn't."
He leaned closer, so close I could smell that faint minty scent on his breath. "I held you like a baby koala all day and didn't say shit, but don't push your luck, princess."
I stared at the tea like it was a vat of poison. He raised a brow.
I took a sip.
And made the ugliest face known to mankind.
He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Drama queen."
I hissed, "This is assault."
He smirked. "This is aftercare."
I took another sip of the tea.
And immediately grimaced like I'd just licked the floor of a hospital.
"This is awful," I croaked, holding the cup away from me like it was cursed. "Why is ginger allowed in anything else that isn't food? Ginger and garlic noodles or stir fried chicken are the only valid ginger. This is a crime."
Kieran didn't even blink. He just stared at me like I was an alien having a meltdown on his very expensive rug.
"You're so dramatic."
"I'm in pain," I whined. "This tea tastes like piss. I can feel my soul withering."
"You've barely had half of it."
"I think I've had enough to qualify for a humanitarian award," I sniffed, slowly lowering the cup onto the table like I was defusing a bomb.
Then I made a break for it.
I don't know why. I was weak, sore, in the middle of bleeding out, but somehow, my body decided: Yes. Now is the time to run.
I had barely made it two dramatic inches before I was grabbed again.
He snatched me like a jungle cat.
And the next thing I knew, I was in his lap, trapped between his thighs like a very irate noodle. I could feel myself pressed against something very dangerous tucked between his thighs.
"Noooo!" I fought weakly. "Let me go, you demon—"
"Shut up and drink it," he said, holding the cup to my lips like he was about to baptize me in liquid torment.
"Kieran! I'm a person, not a goose—"
"Drink it, Kina."
"Why are you like this?!" I cried, dramatically tilting my head back. "I'm fragile! Delicate! My ancestors are weeping—"
"Your ancestors are telling you to suck it up and drink the damn tea."
I groaned like I was being exorcised and took another reluctant sip.
And then another.
And another.
Every drop a war crime.
By the time he let me go, I was a changed woman. Broken. Humbled.
I collapsed onto the rug like a haunted Victorian child, dragging myself away from him with all the energy of a limp slug, muttering curses under my breath.
"You will regret this," I whispered as I crawled.
He just sipped his tea and said, "What? You're gonna poison me with your cooking?"
I screamed into a pillow.
---