Chapter 448: Between Hearth and Hunger

He followed because she asked, because she always knew when to turn the page. In the bathroom, tiles cool beneath their feet, and steam wrote temporary spells on the mirror.

He peeled the tape carefully; she swatted his hands away, tasked at the edge of the wound with a nurse’s disdain and a lover’s gentleness, and cleaned it while the water heated. The salve’s stink made him wrinkle his nose; she laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth to fix it.

“Don’t complain, my little baby.”

“Tch…”

“If you behave, you’ll get a reward.” The glint in her green eyes pulled at something low in his gut.

Under the shower’s heat, the world shrank to warmth and white noise. Her palms mapped him slowly—shoulders, chest, bruised ribs lingering with a frown he didn’t like. He tipped her chin up with a knuckle, a silent don’t. She moved on.

They washed the night away: the sting, the kitchen musk, the sand he hadn’t realised still clung to him. She slipped between his thighs, and the proud wolf accepted a quiet, wordless defeat.

When they stepped out, she wrapped him in a towel, then turned for him to do the same. His clumsy turban for her hair fell apart instantly; she laughed and let it go.

In the dim bedroom, the city’s glow brushed the curtains. He sank onto the bed, fatigue hitting deep into his joints now that the hunt was over. Leona pushed him back, slid under his arm, her head resting on his shoulder, leg hooked over his thigh, palm flat over the wound as if she could smother the itch.

“You okay?” she asked after a while, voice low, the right kind of quiet.

“Define,” he said, the joke small but present.

“Not lusting over another woman so much you masturbate over the kitchen table,” she said.

He swallowed. “Working on it.”

She traced an absent-minded figure eight over his skin. “She’s not going to leave you alone.”

“I know.”

“Good,” Leona said. “Because I won’t leave you alone either.”

He turned his head to look at her. “Jealous?”

“Of a tiger? No. Of what she wakes in you when you’re not careful? Maybe. That’s why I’m here. To remind you who you are when you are.”

“Poetry?”

“Laundry,” she said. “You left socks in the hall.”

He smiled, the real kind that warmed his eyes. “I’ll burn the hall.”

“You do, you lose clean shirts—and blowjobs.”

Nikolai froze as a comfortable silence returned. He breathed with her, counting the seconds between each rise of her chest. The ampoule did its work; the poison took a step back into its cave. His body catalogued damage and filed it under Fix instead of Fight. The wolf curled at last, fed and watched, content to sleep with one eye half-open.

After a while, Leona spoke without lifting her head. “Don’t lose, tomorrow.”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll need to prepare. Talk to Ryan—he knows the Lamia.”

He cupped her cheek, stealing the faint citrus from her breath. “What would I do without you?”

“Die sooner,” she said.

“Planning not to.” He kissed her hairline. “And you—don’t sneak up on me in kitchens.”

“You liked it.”

“Cute today.”

“You only lasted fifteen minutes in the shower. Amazing, wasn’t it?”

He grunted, conceding. Sleep began to take him. One hand slid down her back; she hummed into his chest, erasing the last of the static.

“Leona.”

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” she said, and clearly meant it.

He drifted into the dark with only her heartbeat and ginger scent. The city could wait. The tiger could wait. The fruit could rot.

He woke once to find her hand still over his ribs. He covered it with his own and let the dark take him completely, her heat his only anchor.

By the time he opened his eyes again, the rain outside had dulled into a wet hum, morning light creeping reluctantly through the curtains. Leona was still there, hair a copper tangle against his shoulder, breathing steady.

Nikolai eased himself out of bed, bare feet hitting cold wood. The pull in his side reminded him that Madoka’s claws had left more than a scratch. He rotated his shoulders, testing for stiffness, and padded to the bathroom to splash water over his face. The mirror caught him looking… vibrant… his skin almost glowing.

“Is she really that good in bed?” He whispered.

A snort came from the bedroom, but he ignored it.

The smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen.

Anya was perched on the counter when he came in, legs crossed, nightshirt hanging dangerously short. One red eye, one blue, both watching him with that grin that always came right before trouble.

“Morning, big bad wolf,” she said, kicking her feet lightly. “Leona let you out of bed? Or did you sneak past her?”

“Another jealous woman?”

“Heh!? Why would I be jealous…” Her cheeks flushed red as she bit into her toast with a pout.

From the table, Clara looked up from her tea. Black hair fell in smooth lines around her face, black eyes calm and unreadable. “You should sit. I made a simple breakfast, Brother Nikolai.” Unlike Anya, she didn’t make any remarks, but her usually pale cheeks looked pinker than usual.

The faint, sweet scent that clung to her blood reached him even from across the table, subtle, but impossible to ignore. It made his chest feel too tight.

Anya noticed the way his eyes flicked toward Clara and smirked. “Careful, fairy muff is addictive.”

“Anya watch your mouth… Clara isn’t like you.”

Clara’s lips curved just slightly before turning her cheeks bright red. But she soon recovered and poured another cup without asking and slid it toward him. “It will help. Drink it.”

Nikolai took the cup, the warmth biting through the dull ache in his side. “Thanks.”

The front door opened. Ryan walked in, shaking rain from his coat, hair damp and dishevelled in a way that didn’t look accidental. His smirk told the rest.

“How was she?” Anya asked immediately.

“Like wrestling a storm in heels.” Ryan tossed his coat over a chair, then fell onto the sofa, exhausted, legs splayed like he’d fought three cage rounds back-to-back. His head lolled against the cushion, eyes half-lidded with the memory.

Nikolai raised a brow. “You sound proud of yourself.”

“I survived. That’s more than most could say.” Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. “Nikolai… I think I understand you better now.” His gaze drifted to Anya, then back. “Monster girls… are amazing.”

Anya’s grin spread slowly and sharply” Y. “I’ll drink to t”a”.”

“Of course you will,” Nikolai muttered.

Ryan sat forward with a groan, rubbing his knees like an old man. “Anyway… I heard you ran into trouble last night.”

“How?”

“Ah… she told me, and it’s kind of ironic…”

“Who told you?”

Nikolai noticed Ryan’s strange atmosphere before he took out his identification… the SSS card, and then pushed it towards Nikolai. “Look.”

Under the Mentor and Style… the named Madoka appeared.

“See now?”

“Madoka,” Nikolai confirmed. Saying her name put an edge in the air that hadn’t been there a second ago.

Ryan studied him, brow furrowing. “You planning on letting that go?”

“No.”

Leona appeared in the kitchen doorway, now dressed and hair loosely tied, her steps slow, and an unstable, though she struggled, her quiet authority didn’t vanish, and she silenced the room with a simple gesture. “Don’t do anything stupid, honey.”

He didn’t look at her, but the smirk was there. “You also said not to lose.”

“That wasn’t a yes,” she shot back, crossing her arms.

“It wasn’t a no either.”

Ryan gave a half-shrug. “Then at least tell me where you’re going.”

“I’ll find her scent.” His tone carried a finality that didn’t leave space for negotiation.

“Ah… you’re a damn wolf. I forgot that. Tch… unfair.” Ryan complained, his neck leaning to the side, revealing deep red marks and bruises from his love affair.

“Shut it, snake boy.”

Leona’s green eyes narrowed, but she didn’t try to stop him again. Instead, she stepped close, fingertips brushing his shoulder—a quiet warning and reminder all at once, her eyes filled with worry. “Don’t get hurt. I mean it.”

“I promise you.”

He gave her the faintest smile, but his mind was already elsewhere.

Nikolai didn’t linger. He returned to his room, pulling on a clean black shirt and his jacket. Boots paused for a moment.

When he stepped back into the hall, Leona was waiting. She didn’t speak, just held his gaze for a long moment, then reached out to straighten his collar. “Come back in one piece.” Before he could reply, her lips kissed the edge of his mouth with a loud smack, then pulled back with a smile. “I will be waiting.”

“I’ll come back to you, Leo.”

He slipped out of the apartment, leaving his wife at the door, her green eyes only closing the moment his figure vanished completely.

Outside, Londis greeted him with wet pavement and the low hiss of steady rain. The air was cool, heavy with the smell of stone and old water. He turned his collar up, slipped his hands into his jacket pockets, and started walking.

His mind wasn’t on the streets, or the people, or the city’s endless background noise. It was on her the golden eyes, the mask, the way her claws had burned against his skin.

She was somewhere in this city, and he intended to find her.

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