CHAPTER 188: RETURNED

Kiara returned her gaze to the spirit, her eyes cold once more, shoulders squared.

The spirit’s smile sharpened, a final taunt, before her pink glow unraveled into threads of light, dispersing into the night like a candle snuffed out.

Kiara watched until the last trace vanished, then closed the window with a soft click, drawing the curtains to seal the room from the dark.

Exhaling slowly, she turned to glance at Lor, sprawled half-off the bed, drooling onto his pillow, one arm flung wide.

A tiny, amused sigh escaped her.

"Hopeless," she muttered, her voice laced with affection.

She slid back beneath the sheets, her body curling against his, her arm draping protectively across his chest as if to ward off any spirit that might try to slip past her guard.

Sleep claimed her slowly, her warmth pressed close to him, her breath syncing with his in the quiet.

The room settled, the moonlight softening...

.

.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, thin and golden, painting soft streaks across the room.

The chatter of birds outside—sharp, bickering calls—nudged Lor awake, his groan muffled as he cracked one eye open.

The empty pillow beside him sent a jolt through his chest, a brief, terrible spike of fear that the pink spirit had stolen Kiara in the night, her glowing presence snatching away what was his.

Then—

"Morning."

His eyes snapped to the window.

Kiara perched on the sill, framed by sunlight, her long legs crossed with casual ease.

She wore nothing but his shirt, the loose white fabric clinging to her in ways that made his breath catch.

The fabric barely reached the tops of her thighs, riding up just enough to reveal the bare curve of her pussy, catching the morning light in a way that was both sinful and divine.

Two buttons were undone, the shirt straining around her full bust, her breasts spilling generously, the sight enough to make his pulse stutter.

Her black hair fell loose, framing her face, and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

She smirked, tugging at the hem as if she’d planned every inch of the display.

"Your shirt smells like you," she said, her voice playful, teasing. "I might keep it. It suits me, don’t you think?"

Lor propped himself on his elbows, blinking like a fool, his gaze dragging from her thighs to her face, lingering on the way the shirt hugged her curves.

"It suits you too well," he said, his voice rough from sleep. "I’m not sure if I should be flattered or terrified that you look better in my clothes than I do."

She tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness, her lips curving. "Flattered. Definitely flattered."

His grin broke free, cheeky despite the heat rising in his chest. "Good. Because the view I just woke up to might be the best argument for getting out of bed in the morning."

Kiara chuckled, the sound rich and warm, like honey poured over sunlight.

She slid off the sill, her bare feet whispering against the wooden floor, and padded toward him with a lazy, confident sway.

The shirt rode higher with each step, flashing glimpses of smooth skin, her toned thighs and the curve of her hips a silent taunt.

Lor sat up fully, his heart thumping, torn between covering his face in mock embarrassment and thanking every god for the sight before him.

"You know," he said, his tone playful but edged with the heat stirring in his veins, "if you keep stealing my shirts, I’ll have to start sleeping naked."

Her eyes sparkled, a wicked glint dancing in them. "You say that like it’s a threat."

She climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap without hesitation, the shirt rucking up dangerously as she settled over him.

Her thighs bracketed his hips, warm and firm, her bare pussy pressing against the thin sheet barely covering his hardening cock.

Her hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, her touch gentle but possessive.

"I stayed because I didn’t trust that spirit to slither back," she murmured, her playful grin softening into something raw, earnest. "But also... maybe I just wanted to wake up here. With you."

Lor’s chest tightened, a warmth spreading that had nothing to do with lust.

The world outside—the academy, the spirit, the Guiding Light’s charade—faded, overshadowed by the heat of her thighs, the softness in her eyes.

"Then I’m glad you did," he said, his voice lower, steady, carrying an honesty that slipped out unbidden.

Her smirk returned, mischievous, but her gaze held that same vulnerability.

"Of course, don’t get used to it. I can’t have you thinking you own me just because I look good in your shirt... I am more than that you know."

Lor laughed, leaning forward until their lips nearly brushed, the air between them charged. "If you keep looking like that, I might start thinking you own me."

Her answering kiss was slow, teasing, a promise of trouble wrapped in warmth.

Her lips moved against his, soft her tongue brushing his with a languid ease that made his cock twitch beneath the sheet.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her smile wicked, her thighs tightening around him, and Lor knew the morning was about to get a lot less restful.

Lor’s hands lingered on Kiara’s waist, fingers tracing the warm curve of her hips, the heat of her thighs against him pulling at his resolve.

Her weight in his lap, the teasing curl of her smirk, and the way his shirt clung to her curves—all of it threatened to drag him back into the sheets for another round of sweat-soaked pleasure.

The air crackled with the promise of it, one more kiss enough to tip the morning into a haze of moans and tangled limbs.

But reason clawed through the fog.

"We should get ready for the academy," he murmured, pulling back reluctantly, his voice steadier than the wild thud of his heart. "Before things... get out of hand again."

Kiara pouted, the expression exaggerated but dangerously alluring, her bottom lip jutting out in a way that was both mischievous and unfairly endearing.

"You’re no fun in the mornings," she teased, her blue eyes glimmering with warmth, though the playful glint promised trouble.