Kael dragged himself out of bed the next morning, his body still stiff, his mind restless like it had been rewound and played on loop through every woman's face. Selira. Mia. Lucy. Aimee. Each stare, each smirk, each curve burned into him as if branded by his own damn wrist mark.
And then Clara's texts.
He sat at the edge of his bed, phone glowing in his palm, scrolling back through every line she sent. Her words weren't as sharp or devilish as Selira's, not as suffocating as Mia's, not as playful as Lucy's. Clara's tone was soft but teasing, like she wanted to pull him in but wasn't forcing him.
That only made it worse.
His chest tightened. What if she's also one of them?
The thought pulsed through his head like thunder.
"I can't run from this forever," Kael muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. His reflection in the mirror looked half-dead, half-alive like someone who had lived through five different stories in one week.
He chuckled nervously, a dry laugh at his own misery. "H-hah… at least if she's another trap, I'll run the same way I ran from Mia. That's what I've learned for now."
But the thought of Clara, the way she leaned against Maya at the club that night, her eyes sparkling with mischief but calm beneath. it left Kael curious. Almost hopeful.
Maybe… just maybe, Clara wasn't like the others.
By afternoon, his phone buzzed again.
Clara: You coming? I'll be waiting. Don't make me regret inviting you.
Kael's heart slammed in his chest. His fingers froze over the keyboard. His body screamed don't go while his blood whispered go.
Minutes later, he found himself standing outside her place, breath uneven, palms damp. The house wasn't what he expected—quiet, almost too quiet, curtains drawn halfway like secrets tucked behind glass.
He rubbed his wrist unconsciously. If she's up to something… I'll run. I swear, I'll run.
But his feet didn't move.
Kael didn't know what to expect when he knocked on Clara's door, maybe a casual dress, something simple, the same way she looked that night at the club when she leaned on Maya.
But when the door opened
It hit him like fire.
Clara stood there, framed in the doorway like the goddess of every wrong decision a man could ever make. Her skirt clung tight around her hips, the fabric stretched to reveal every curve as though it was sewn onto her body. The slit at the side hinted too much, almost as if it dared him to imagine what his eyes couldn't see.
And her top—thin, almost sheer barely managed to cage her breasts. The outline of her nipples pressed against the fabric, proud and pointed, a soft promise of everything Kael swore he'd run away from.
His throat went dry. His heartbeat roared like drums inside him.
Clara tilted her head slightly, lips curling into a slow smirk that wasn't meant to be playful, it was a knowing smirk, a dangerous one, curved at just the right edge of her face. Her eyes didn't just look at him they scanned him, peeled into him, seeing the heat he was trying desperately to hide.
"Kael," she whispered his name low, her voice sliding through the air like silk brushing against skin. "You came."
The way she said it made him stumble back a thought came—his brain twisting it wrong, his chest tightening in shame and heat at once.
"Y–yeah," he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. His eyes betrayed him and fell again hips, chest, that impossible smirk. He tried to look away, but each time his gaze shifted, there was another trap waiting for him.
Clara stepped aside, her body brushing close enough that his sleeve brushed the edge of her breast as he entered. His stomach flipped, his wrist flickered faintly again beneath his sleeve, and he almost dropped his bag.
The air inside her place was warm, scented faintly of something floral but sharp—jasmine mixed with a heat he couldn't name. Each step felt heavier, his senses overloaded by the way her presence bent the room toward her.
Kael's lips parted but no words came out. His whole body was a contradiction—his mind screaming, Don't fall into this. Not again. Not another trap. But his heart raced faster than he could resist.
Clara closed the door behind him with a soft click that sounded louder than thunder. She didn't rush. She didn't need to. Her smirk deepened as she leaned against the doorframe, eyes locked on him like she'd already won something he hadn't even realized was at stake.
And Kael—Kael almost lost it there, right at the entrance, stuttering with heat flushing through him.
"Uhm I… uh "
His words tangled into nothing, his legs heavy as he shuffled further in, every step dragging him deeper into whatever this was.
Clara's eyes never left him, and that low smirk never broke.
Kael tried to ground himself—deep breaths, focus on something else, anything else. The couch. The table. The stupid flower vase by the window. But every time his gaze slipped, Clara was already there, leaning, watching, waiting.
Her smirk curved deeper when she noticed his restless eyes. She didn't move fast; she didn't need to. Her presence alone filled the silence.
"You know," Clara said at last, her tone low, playful, almost mocking, "I like it when you're nervous."
Kael froze.
"You look…" she leaned slightly forward, lips tugging to the side, eyes narrowing in a soft gleam, "…so damn cute when you're like this, Kael."
Her voice dripped with certainty, like she knew exactly what buttons she was pressing.
Kael's heart slammed. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as sand. His hands itched for something to hold, his knees restless beneath him. He hated how true her words felt—how seen he was in that moment, like she wasn't just teasing him, but peeling open every layer he tried to keep hidden.
Cute? Damn, no. Don't call me that. Don't say it like that.
But his chest betrayed him, fluttering like it wanted to collapse.
He shifted his weight, trying to answer, but his mouth betrayed him with silence. He looked away—straight at the window again—but even then, he could feel Clara's eyes crawling over his skin.
She chuckled softly, a sound too smooth, too confident. The kind of laugh someone gave when they already knew how the game would end.
Kael's mind spun. Why did I even come here? I told myself I'd run if she pulled anything. Just like Mia. Just like Selira. But here I am… standing, stuttering, falling right into it.
Clara pushed away from the wall, slow, her hips swaying slightly as though she was teasing the air itself. She walked past him, not too close, but close enough for him to catch the soft graze of her perfume—sweet, heady, pulling his breath shallow.
Kael tensed. His fists tightened at his side. He didn't dare look directly at her, but the corner of his eye betrayed him again, catching the way her skirt pulled tight with each step.
Damn it. Damn it, Kael. Get your head straight. Don't lose it now.
And then her voice again, soft, low, playful—right behind him now.
"Still nervous, aren't you?"
Kael's pulse skipped. He felt the warmth of her words against the back of his neck, like heat brushing too close to fire.
He shut his eyes for a moment, whispering in his head, I'm losing it. I'm actually losing it.
Clara's shoulder brushed him as she passed, the faint graze of her skin electric against his arm. It wasn't by accident Kael knew it. The sway of her hips lingered in his vision even when he forced himself to stare ahead, but then she turned, slow, deliberate, her smirk curved like she had been reading his every thought.
She lowered herself into the chair across from him.. not all at once, but with a kind of drawn-out grace, her skirt riding a little higher as she crossed her legs. Her eyes didn't leave him.
"Kael…" she said, voice soft but sharp enough to hook him in. "What do you intend for?"
He blinked, heat rushing through him. "I–I…"
Her lips curved deeper, waiting, savoring his hesitation.
"A drink? Food? Name it."
Kael's pulse jumped. He hadn't expected her to switch the tone so easily, her words simple but draped in that quiet seduction. The air thickened, carrying both the soft perfume clinging to her skin and the weight of her presence pressing against his chest.
He stammered, "Uh–huh… hmm…" and immediately hated how small it sounded.
Clara tilted her head, smirk widening as if his stutter was exactly what she wanted. "I see you're still nervous," she whispered, leaning just a little closer before leaning back again, drawing the tension taut. "Just be free around me, okay? I don't bite."
Her eyes gleamed. "Not unless you want me to."
Kael swallowed hard, but she had already risen, gliding toward her kitchen. The sound of her steps, the soft tap of her heels against the floor, echoed like a countdown in his head.
"Come," she called over her shoulder.
He obeyed before he could think, sitting at her dining table. The faint glow of her kitchen light spilled into the room, and soon the aroma followed the soft, warm scent of something cooking, laced with herbs and spices that filled the air. It wrapped around him, pleasant, comforting.
But Clara's scent lingered sharper. That stayed.
Kael sat there, shoulders tight, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he tried to steady himself. His thoughts were louder than the quiet hum of the stove.
I–I need to take it bold here. I can't just keep drowning in this game. She's not Selira. She's not Mia. She doesn't look like she's about to tear me apart…
His chest tightened as he watched her moving in the kitchen, every line of her figure outlined against the soft light.
No. I got to man up. Pretend if I have to. I'll take the lead instead.
The thought pressed into him like a vow.
He straightened slowly, fingers curling into his palm beneath the table.
Yeah. This time… I'll decide how it goes.