Ch. 105 – The Lady of the Hour

"I was just doing my night rounds, patrolling the precinct district," Galen continued, his raspy voice dropping into a nostalgic rhythm. "I stopped at this little grease-trap diner on 4th Street to grab a quick coffee. Walked in, and there she was—sitting all by herself in a corner booth, bathed in the red glow of the neon sign outside. The moment our eyes met, I just knew... this was the woman who was going to wrench my life into absolute pieces."

Galen’s expression was a mix of somber peace and distant euphoria as he uttered those utterly harrowing words.

Rhys stared at him, listening intently. Out patrolling? Is this guy an off-duty cop? That would explain why he’s so stiff... But the sheer, self-destructive romanticism of Galen's story made Rhys’s brain short-circuit. This man is completely lost in the sauce. There’s no way he actually knows who she is. He thinks her ruining his life is romantic! Yet, beneath the slouched posture and wire-rimmed glasses, a nagging sensation tugged at Rhys’s mind. He had definitely seen Galen's face before—maybe under different light, or without the severe hunch—but he just couldn't place the memory.

Meanwhile, the raw thrill of Shula’s magical power was flooding Rhys’s system like pure adrenaline. In the spiritual plane, the dark figure of Omen fed greedily from the glowing amber conduit attached to Shula.

The siphon was having a very physical side effect on Shula herself. She looked visibly flushed, her chest heaving slightly as a sudden, overwhelming wave of arousal washed over her. Biting her lip, she tried to play it cool, but her golden eyes kept darting toward Rhys, completely mesmerized by the unnatural, magnetic siphon pulling her toward him.

Noticing her lost in a daze, Rhys cleared his throat and looked back at Galen, who had paused, lost in his own reverie. "So... what happened next at the diner?" Rhys prompted, genuinely curious.

"Well—" Galen began, looking eager to continue.

"Wow, man... that’s really, uh... sweet," Darius chimed in, wiping a lingering tear from his eye after his violent coughing fit over the ladyfingers.

Before Galen could dive into chapter two of his dark romance, Vespera ruthlessly cut in, snatching the spotlight away. "Speaking of long marriages... Shula, how long have you and Darius been married now?"

Galen immediately deflated, shrinking back into his slouch and taking a quiet sip of his wine.

Damn that woman, Rhys thought bitterly, annoyed that his distraction was cut short. I was actually invested in that story!

Underneath the tall cocktail table, Vespera’s soft, spotted leopard tail snaked through the dark, tracing a slow, sinuous line up Rhys’s inner thigh. Rhys glanced over at her, his jaw clenching as he tried to warn her off with his eyes. Can you please not do this right now?!

Shula, currently floating on cloud nine from the lingering high of Rhys’s power-drain, blinked dazedly. "Wait... what did you say, Vespera?"

Darius stepped in for his wife, giving her a gentle, slightly puzzled look before addressing the group. "We’ve been married for about four years or so now."

Vespera let out a light, mocking laugh. "Oh! So about half the time of Galen and Ariadne then? Just stating the facts, of course."

"Well, we knew each other for a long time before that," Darius countered quickly, his polite smile faltering as he tried to hide the sting of the insult.

All the while, Ariadne’s scorching, blood-red gaze remained locked onto Rhys like a laser sight. She was utterly fuming at the revelation that Rhys was supposedly siring a child for Shula. Worse still, from Ariadne’s perspective, Shula looked as if she were standing there quietly getting off on the whole scandalous drama. And she was—Shula was practically purring from the sensation of Rhys’s dark aura siphoning her reserves.

Vespera’s tail slid higher, rhythmically wrapping around Rhys's lower leg and inching toward his groin. "You know," Vespera purred casually, "Marcus was telling me earlier that Shula and Darius actually met in a way that’s remarkably similar to how you and Lira met, Rhys."

Rhys let out a sharp, serious chuckle, cutting through her narrative instantly. "Now hold on a second. I don't think you can call it that. How me and Lira met was something completely unique. Don't get me wrong, Shula and Darius have a great story, but what I have with Lira is strictly its own thing."

He spoke with total, unshakeable certainty, entirely ignoring the prehensile tail writhing greedily around his thigh beneath the tablecloth. Rhys turned his head away, done with the conversation—only for his stomach to drop through the floorboards.

Over Ariadne's shoulder, the main doors of the venue were practically buckling. A massive, roaring tide of guests was pouring into the grand ballroom—a crowd far larger than he had originally anticipated, all expecting a world-class culinary experience.

Holy shit... Rhys shouted in his own head. Holy shit!

Through the rising sea of people, Rhys caught sight of Ariadne beaming at him with a triumphant, wicked smirk. This terrifying stampede was 100% her doing—she had spread the word to the entire district just to crush him under the pressure. Catching his eye, she silently mouthed four words across the room:

“Just for you, husband.”

Before Rhys could even begin to process the impending operational nightmare in his kitchen, Vespera lunged back into his personal space, her face dropping into a cold, unreadable mask. "Oh, but it is relevant, my dear PARTNER..."

Beside her, Marcus’s eyes widened. His mouth opened to speak, then snapped shut. He looked like a helpless bystander watching a pedestrian wander directly into the path of a speeding semi-truck—completely frozen in horror, utterly unable to shout a warning in time to save his friend.

Rhys narrowed his eyes at Vespera. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh... you really don't know, do you?" Vespera teased, her voice a drop of sweet poison. "You never knew. I tried to tell you so many times—even earlier today—but you just kept brushing me off. I suppose it just can't be helped... it has to come out now." She put on a sickening display of innocent regret, even as her tail coiled tightly around his lower half beneath the table.

Rhys’s pulse hammered in his ears. It took every ounce of his Omen-forged discipline not to break character and snap her neck right then and there.

You haven't even thought of her all day, the shadow chimed in from the back of his mind, its dark voice cutting through his thoughts with cold, absolute truth. You haven't thought of your 'precious wife' a single time since you woke up.

Rhys gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. "Vespera... be real and honest with me right now. Please."

Vespera’s lips curled into a broad, devilish smirk. "Nahhh... I think it can wait until after the first course, don't you? I can't be the only one here who is absolutely famished." She glanced around at the circle, her eyes sparkling with malicious delight. "And besides... the lady of the hour hasn't even shown up yet."

The words hit Rhys like a physical blow, suddenly making him acutely, painfully aware of Lira’s absence. Over an hour had passed since the grand opening officially began, and his wife was nowhere to be found.