Sweet Hatred Chapter 56: Secrets

He didn’t say anything as he walked toward —just tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking to my mouth like he was trying to figure out how fast he could silence with a kiss.

And then he did.

His lips crashed into mine, fierce and needy. One hand cupped the back of my head while the other—

"Wait!" I gasped mid-kiss, pulling back suddenly. "Your hand."

Kael blinked, confused. And annoyed.

"Give it to ," I said, reaching for it.

He didn’t move.

"Kael. Sit your fucking ass down now."

The look he gave was half amused, half surprised—like a mother yelling at her reckless son who just tried to skateboard off a roof.

"Fine," he muttered, and dropped onto the couch with the most dramatic sigh I’d ever heard.

I knelt in front of him, pulling the first aid kit closer and gently dabbing at the wounds. His knuckles were raw, red, and ugly, but he didn’t flinch once. Not even when I applied the antiseptic.

"You should’ve let handle it," I muttered, focusing on the task. "I hate to sound like this but I don’t think I was worth screwing a whole business trip over."

"Don’t ever say that again." Kael responded sharply. "Besides you were about to punch like a kitten."

"I landed one, didn’t I?"

"Barely. You could use a few more lessons."

I looked up at him sharply. He smirked.

Asshole. But a question tugged at . How much did he see to react like that? And why?

Still, I carefully wrapped his hand. Plastered it tight. My fingertips lingered a little too long, tracing the edge of his skin. He felt... human. Warm. Breakable. For the first ti, not so annoying that I wanted to rip the hair off my scalp.

And then, the second I finished—

His mouth was on mine again.

This ti deeper, slower. His hands slid through my neck into my hair, pulling forward until I tumbled into his lap, the kit forgotten on the floor.

I don’t know when the air between us started burning, but by the ti Kael backed into the couch, I was already drowning in it. His lips crashed into mine, bruising and possessive, and I hated—hated—how easily I lted into it. I told myself it was the drink, the adrenaline, maybe even residual fear—but my body didn’t care for reasons.

Kael didn’t speak. He didn’t ask. He just breathed. Groaned. Moaned quietly into my mouth. He tugged my pants down with one swift motion, baring before I could even process what was happening. Then he hooked his hands beneath my knees—under my thighs and pushed them up to my chest, his gaze dark and hungry.

"Kael—"

But my breath caught in my throat the second his mouth touched my wet pussy.

My back arched instinctively, a gasp tearing from my lips as the heat of his tongue swept across the folds. His hands held in place, palms firm on my thighs, spreading wider and shaless. I wanted to squirm away, to shove his smug face off , but God—his mouth was magic.

And then, just when I thought I’d lose my mind, he looked up at .

That smile.

That wicked, gleaming smile that turned my insides into mush.

"You’re learning firefly, " he murmured, voice muffled against . "So obedient now."

The words snapped sothing in , and I shoved at his head, trying to wriggle away. "Screw you bastard."

But he just laughed, lowly and with a dark intent, pulling closer like I hadn’t even moved.

His tongue moved faster. Harder. One of his hands slid up under my shirt, squeezing my breast roughly, teasing my nipple until I cried out. I gripped the couch cushions like a lifeline, my head falling back as pleasure rushed through .

I hated him.

I hated this.

And yet I was seconds away from cumming all over his mouth.

"Kael..." I whimpered, nails digging into the armrest as I trembled beneath him. "I can’t—I..."

"You can," he said against , lips curling. "You will."

It built fast.

Too fast.

I tried to fight it, biting down on my bottom lip to stifle the moans clawing their way out, but Kael knew my body too well. His tongue moved with purpose, slow where I was sensitive, rough where I craved more. He knew.

And I was done pretending.

My legs began to shake, stomach tightening, a low cry escaping as the knot deep inside snapped—hard. My vision blurred and my fingers dug into his arm as wave after wave of pleasure crashed inside , blinding and hot and humiliatingly intense.

He didn’t stop.

Not until I was trembling, twitching against his mouth, whimpering his na in a way I never wanted him to hear again.

Finally, Kael pulled back.

And I barely had the strength to lift my head.

He stood slowly—his chest rising and falling with calm, unbothered breaths, his towel still loosely hanging around his hips. There was a sheen of water still clinging to his skin, and the shadows cast by the room’s dim lights made his body look carved from fire and vengeance.

My eyes followed the trail of moisture dripping from his neck, over the ridges of his abs, down... to that smug, insufferable smile playing at his lips.

"You look like you want to eat whole firefly." he teased softly, voice like gravel and sin.

I swallowed hard, trying to find words. But I couldn’t.

He moved toward again, fingers brushing under my chin, tilting my face to look at him.

"Or maybe make pay."

And then—just when I thought he was going to devour all over again—he leaned down and kissed my forehead.

Soft. Gentle. Infuriating.

"Goodnight, Aria," he whispered, turning away like he hadn’t just ripped open.

And just like that... he left breathless on the couch, ruined in more ways than one.

***

The soft hum of the plane engine was the only thing steady about this morning.

A flight attendant in a crisp navy uniform approached, a forced smile on her face and a silver tray in hand. "Would you like anything to drink, miss?"

I glanced up, my throat still dry from all the tension weighing it down. "Just water," I murmured, then shook my head. "Actually, never mind."

She nodded and moved on, the soft clink of glasses on the tray trailing behind her as she stopped beside Kael. He barely looked up before speaking.

"Whiskey. Neat."

Of course.

I shifted in my seat, arms crossed, gaze trained on the seat in front of —but I felt it the second he turned toward . That smug, simring presence. It radiated without him needing to say a word.

"You keep staring at , Aria," he said, voice low and teasing, "I might start to think you’re falling for ."

My eyes snapped to him, heat crawling up my neck, but I masked it with a glare. "I was actually wondering if your liver would give out before the contract ends," I shot back. "Because your drinking habits are suicidal at best."

He let out a dry chuckle, swirling the glass once the attendant handed it over and walked away. "Wouldn’t that be your dream? out of your life for good."

"Yes, but I’d prefer it if you died in a more poetic fashion. Like choking on your own arrogance."

Kael chuckled again, and the sound had an edge—like sothing sharp and smooth. "You really are more talkative after a little action. Did sothing about last night loosen your tongue?"

My stomach knotted, and not because of turbulence. I hated that he said it so casually. Like what I saw hadn’t rattled . Like the blood on his hands and the crushed face of the man he nearly killed weren’t still flashing behind my eyes.

I looked away, jaw tight. He was back to his usual self—annoyingly composed, sharp-tongued, and absolutely unfazed. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t get the image out of my head. The man I saw last night, drenched in rage, fists red, and eyes darker than I’d ever seen. That wasn’t just Kael being Kael. That was sothing else entirely. Sothing violent. Sothing dangerous.

And yet here he was, sipping his whiskey like the night hadn’t happened, like I hadn’t just watched him snap.

I pressed my forehead to the cool window and closed my eyes, hoping the cold would ground . But all it did was reflect his voice back in my head and the way he looked at after wiping blood off his hand with a fucking handkerchief like it was dust.

He terrified last night.

So why was my heart still beating so fast now?

****

We landed in silence.

No words. Just the polite murmur of flight attendants, the occasional ding of a seatbelt sign, and Kael finishing his drink like we didn’t just return from a trip soaked in chaos.

I didn’t speak to him as we walked through the private terminal. He didn’t offer a glance, and I didn’t ask for one. But I felt him—every slow, confident step he took beside like he owned the ground.

Outside, the sun was too bright, the wind sharp against my skin. Two black cars were parked at the curb. I slowed when Kael stopped walking.