Amelia rubbed her face against Knight's chest, slow and dramatic, and Genesis just stared at her.
She didn't say anything. Not yet.
Amelia kept going.
"Kieran, my back hurts… and my feet too. Look—" Her eyes shimmered as she pointed down at her swollen ankles.
Daisy followed her finger and wrinkled her nose. The girl had a point—Amelia's feet were swollen like balloons. Genesis glanced down too and saw it for herself.
"Please… can you rub them for me?" Amelia whined, tilting her head just enough to look helpless.
Knight gently set Daisy down, careful as always. Amelia stepped back, though not without a dramatic eye-roll, like she owned the entire house.
As Knight stood, adjusting his sleeves, ready to answer, he felt a gentle tug on his shirt.
Genesis.
She looked up at him with calm, steady eyes—soft in the middle of the chaos. She began signing, her movements smooth and composed.
"I'll do it. I'll massage her feet."
Knight blinked.
Wait. What?
His brows furrowed, body going rigid.
"The hell you will."
Genesis frowned and signed again, this time with a firmer hand.
"It's fine. I don't want you touching her either. Just let me—"
"No." His voice was clipped and sharp. "You're not touching her. You're my wife, not her damn maid."
Genesis exhaled silently, cheeks puffing in that stubborn way of hers. Her hands moved quicker now.
"I'm not her maid. I'm being kind. She's pregnant."
Knight scoffed. Loud and unapologetic.
"She's also a manipulative little…" He gritted his teeth. "And I already regret touching her in the first place." His glare at Amelia could have turned bone to dust.
Genesis's hands flew furiously.
"Still. It's not right to leave her like that…"
"Yes. It. Is." Knight snapped, jabbing a finger in the air. "You want to help her? Let her rub her own crusty feet. That's help enough."
Amelia, watching from the side like a smug cat, stepped forward with a sweet, venom-laced smile. Knight's words stung but not enough to humble her.
"Aw, is my presence causing a little lover's spat?" she cooed. "That's adorable. I did know how to handle him before you came along, Genesis…"
Knight muttered under his breath, "I'm going to murder someone."
Genesis clenched her fists at her sides. Even Daisy crossed her arms, glaring daggers at Amelia.
Then…
Like divine intervention….
"Kieran," came the elegant, razor-edged voice from the living room.
Eliana.
She appeared in a soft beige dress, her silver curls pinned back, her eyes calm and sharp.
"I'll do it," she said smoothly.
Everyone turned.
She gave Amelia a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Come now, dear," Eliana said, already placing a hand on her back and guiding her away like an unwilling toddler. "Let's get those swollen feet up somewhere private, shall we?"
"I…I didn't mean you. D…don't touch me…" Amelia stammered, glancing back at Knight.
But Eliana was already steering her off with steel-like grace.
"Oh, I insist," she said sweetly. "You need to sit. Quietly. Far away."
Just before disappearing, Eliana shot Genesis and Knight a subtle wink.
Genesis blinked—then broke into the biggest grin.
Knight slid an arm around her waist again.
Daisy pumped her tiny fists. "Grandma rocks!"
Knight leaned down to Genesis's ear and whispered, "Look at you… ready to play little foot doctor for the demon woman."
Genesis signed, "I was being nice."
Knight grinned, teeth flashing. He bent close again, voice low and dangerous.
"If you ever try to be that nice again… I'm handcuffing you to our bed for a week. For your safety. Obviously."
Genesis's cheeks turned scarlet.
Daisy, already skipping away, called over her shoulder, "Come on, you two! Stop being all mushy! Let's play hunter and prey now!"
Knight tilted his head toward Genesis. "You heard her, little wife. Time for me to hunt you."
He bent lower, voice almost feral.
"…And this time, I'm not going easy."
Genesis gave a silent squeak—and ran.
Knight gave them a five-second head start.
Then he followed.
Like the predator he was.
Later that evening…
It was around 6 p.m. when Genesis dragged herself into their bedroom. She flopped face-first onto the bed like a corpse, her hair spilling around her like a messy halo.
Her chest rose and fell fast.
Her neck was covered in bite marks. Her shirt was dirty, stretched from being tackled into the grass more than once. Her skin still tingled from where Knight had mauled her.
She groaned and reached up, rubbing her neck. It was still sensitive. Then she sat up, lifted her shirt, and stared at the crescent nail marks and love bites all across her skin.
A slow smile curved on her lips. She rubbed her hand over one of the bruises.
"Did he have to be so rough?" she mumbled silently to herself, cheeks warm.
Then her eyes drifted down to her hands. Suddenly she remembered the way the gun had felt in them, cold, solid, powerful.
A lightbulb flickered in her mind.
She shook her head quickly.
"No, no. I shouldn't touch it without permission."
Pause.
"…But why not? He'll never know."
Of course, she moved to the bedside drawer.
She opened the bottom compartment—and her eyes went wide.
Guns.
Small ones. Lots of them. She didn't even know the names.
She sat on the floor and pulled one out, heart thudding. She hadn't known they were there until weeks ago, when she was looking for her index notes and stumbled across the stash. She'd kept quiet about it.
She held the gun in her palm. It was heavy. Serious.
She lifted it, just like Knight had taught her earlier in the day, and pointed it at the wall.
"What's my wife doing?" a voice suddenly asked from behind her.
Genesis yelped, dropping the gun back into the drawer. She slammed it shut, spinning around to find Knight standing in the doorway.
She quickly pressed her back against the drawer, shaking her head.
Knight raised a brow. "Don't lie, Princess. I saw you."
She sighed, glanced down at her thighs, then back up at him. Her hands moved slowly.
"Are you angry?"
Knight settled onto the floor in front of her, his hair sticking out at wild angles—thanks to Daisy and Genesis grabbing fistfuls of it when he caught them. Bite marks dotted his neck and hands, already darkening into hickeys, just like the ones scattered across Genesis's skin.
"No, of course not, Princess," he said, his voice low and warm. "I like that you're curious. That curiosity will make you stronger."
She smiled at his words, and he moved closer, one arm curling gently around her head.
"Tomorrow's Sunday," he murmured. "No ballet, no tutoring. So I'm taking you somewhere. Somewhere you'll learn to fight. Do you want that?"
Her eyes widened.
Learn to fight?
Knight gave a soft hum, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek.
"You think I'm gonna let you walk through those companies and casinos only knowing how to pirouette and sign?" he whispered, tilting her chin up with a single finger.
"No. You'll be deadly. And no one will dare touch you."
Her heart thundered in her chest—loud, certain, and fast.
She nodded slowly, then signed with steady hands:
"I want that. I want to protect myself."
Knight smiled—no, smirked—and leaned in, brushing his lips over hers, barely touching.
"Good girl."
Genesis flushed. Her throat felt tight and warm at the same time.
Knight's eyes drifted down her body, his gaze landing on the marks and scratches from their earlier chaos—proof of their playful war and his complete lack of restraint.
His voice dropped. "You're still trembling."
She blinked, caught off guard.
He leaned in again, his nose brushing along her neck.
"I can see every little goosebump, Princess."
Genesis swallowed.
His hand slid down to her waist, fingers slipping beneath her shirt, thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles across her hip bones.
"You sore?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.
She nodded, her cheeks blooming red.
"I should clean you up," he murmured, standing with effortless strength and pulling her up with him.
Her legs were unsteady, but she followed. He led her to the bathroom like a predator guiding his prey—gentle, but commanding, his presence pulsing with control and heat.
He turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room.
Then he turned back to her.
His hands found the hem of her shirt and lifted it slowly, reverently, his eyes roaming across every bruise and bite he'd left behind. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, her collarbone, then lower—down her ribs, taking his time.
"You're art, Genesis," he murmured against her skin.
She signed weakly, a smirk twitching at her lips:
"You're insane."
He grinned, his teeth grazing her skin.
"Damn right I am."
She gasped silently as he lifted her into his arms and stepped into the shower with her, the hot water cascading down their bodies, washing away the sweat, the dirt, and a bit of the soreness—but none of the tension.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist.
Knight pressed her against the shower wall with a low, dark chuckle.
"Might leave more bite marks tonight, little wife."
She nodded, cheeks glowing, eyes wide and alight with want.
And that was all the permission he needed.
The shower filled with steam and heat, soft gasps and quiet moans, as he worshipped her the way only a possessive, unhinged husband could.
But just as they were lost in each other…
A spiteful pair of eyes watched from afar.
Burning with longing.
And rage.