It was sudden and sloppy and a little clumsy — because, again, they were both still coated in dried sweat and dungeon gri — but it was real.
Her hands slipped behind his neck, pulling him close with a force that left no room for misinterpretation.
For a second, Zayn was frozen.
Not because he didn’t want it, but because every inch of him was still processing the fact that this was happening right here, right now...
Then he kissed her back.
The room spun a little — not because of any magic, but just from the sheer adrenaline spike of them kissing.
Her lips were warm against his, and she slled like earth and a little bit of ash from her magic.
His arms instinctively found her waist, gripping her gently as their bodies closed the distance.
When she pulled back, her breath was a little shaky. She leaned her head and rested it on his chest silently before speaking.
"Sorry," she murmured, "I didn’t want to wait anymore."
Zayn blinked, dazed. "Don’t... don’t apologize for that."
"Alright, now you stink," Kara muttered, her forehead still lightly pressed against Zayn’s chest, her voice muffled by the fabric of his battle-worn shirt.
Zayn blinked. "I thought that was part of the charm."
She wrinkled her nose and pushed him back with both palms square on his chest. "The only charm here is how I haven’t gagged yet."
"Ouch." Zayn staggered back with theatrical flair, hands to his heart. "You wound more than the boss did."
"You deserve it," she said, rolling her eyes, "walking around like a sweaty horned gremlin."
He grinned. "A sexy sweaty horned gremlin."
Kara reached down, already grabbing one of her shoes threateningly. "Shower. Now. Before Elisse finishes cooking. Or I will throw this."
Zayn backed away with hands raised, but the teasing glint in his eyes only deepened.
"Noted, milady. But just for the record..." he smirked and shot her a wink, "your lips tasted nice."
Kara’s hand twitched with the motion to throw, but Zayn ducked out the door with a laugh and slamd it shut behind him just as the shoe thudded against it with a satisfying thunk.
"Asshole!" she called through the door, but he was already halfway down the hall, cackling like a child who’d gotten away with stealing candy.
He headed toward the bathroom in his room, still grinning.
His muscles ached like they’d been chewed on and spat out by a dragon, but his chest felt light.
Even after the exhaustion and the adrenaline crash, even after practically collapsing on the floor with Bran, he sohow had more energy than he knew what to do with.
Or maybe it was just the afterglow of that kiss.
’Probably the afterglow of that kiss,’
Zayn stepped into the bathroom, tugged off his crusty shirt, and paused for a second as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
His skin was littered with small bruises, a scrape here and there.
There were small scratches on his forehead, where the horn had co out of, but they were small, you couldn’t see it easily.
"You’ve gotten stronger," he mumbled to himself, watching the faint shimr pulse in his eyes before fading.
He turned on the water and stepped into the shower, letting the hot stream soak into his aching muscles.
Dirt, dried blood, and bits of sothing he really hoped wasn’t worm guts swirled down the drain.
The water was scorching, just how he liked it. It was clean and sharp.
As the gri of the dungeon was scrubbed away, so was the lingering tension.
He found himself humming — off-key and obnoxiously loud, it was sothing he had heard them hum at the bar in the Red light district — until soone banged on the wall from the hallway.
"I swear to the gods, Zayn, if I hear you sing about your ’battle booty’ one more ti!" Kara’s voice ca muffled but clear through the wall.
Zayn just grinned. "That’s a crowd favorite! Don’t be jealous you don’t have lyrics about your staff skills!"
He ducked another potential shoe through the wall (in spirit) and finished up quickly, drying off and throwing on a loose shirt and pants.
His stomach growled as he opened the door to the scent of whatever Elisse was crafting in the kitchen.
The aroma alone could raise the dead.
He walked down the stairs barefoot, hair still damp and sticking up in odd directions.
Bran was already at the table, fork in hand, poking at a bowl he’d clearly been told not to touch yet.
"Sit down," Elisse scolded from behind him as she swatted his hand away with a ladle.
Zayn laughed. "What’s for dinner?"
"Just a stew tonight," Elisse said. "And bread I didn’t bake. You’ll survive."
The "just" stew in question slled like sothing pulled straight from a royal feast.
It was thick and savory, bubbling with chunks of seasoned at, root vegetables, and a fragrant herb blend that made Zayn’s stomach nearly implode from hunger.
A warm loaf of bread sat on the table, steaming slightly and surrounded by butter that was already starting to lt.
"You’re a savior," Zayn said as he slid into the seat next to Bran.
Elisse smiled sweetly, her cheeks growing pinker by the minute as she placed stew into bowls.
Kara entered the room then, a new shirt on and hair tied back. "I will personally poison your next portion if you say another word."
"Too late," Zayn said, already sipping his stew with dramatic delight. "This is delicious. If I die from poison, at least I’ll die happy."
They ate together around the small wooden table, the kind of dinner that felt more like a reward than anything they could’ve bought at a tavern.
Though Tobias did not join them... They wondered why.
Kara didn’t sit next to Zayn — though she shot him a look that said she hadn’t not enjoyed the kiss — and Bran launched into a dramatic retelling of the dungeon fight, complete with sound effects and over-exaggerated impressions of everyone.
"And then I said, ’NO!’ and swung my axe down like THWACK! And the monster was like ’ARGHH — ’"
"You never said ’no,’" Kara said, deadpan.
"You scread like a chicken being tickled," Elisse added.
Bran pouted. "I felt like I said ’no.’"
Zayn leaned back in his chair, full and finally warm. His hair had started drying in fluffy waves, and the ache in his limbs now felt more like proof of their success than a burden.
He glanced around at the others — their small, mismatched party, sitting around a table in a house that was ant for them... It just felt so... relaxing.
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