Ch. 64 – No Means Nothing

Rhys wanted nothing more than to drift into a deep, uninterrupted sleep in Lira’s loving embrace, her strong, warm body still wrapped tenderly around his. The rain was still coming down in absolute sheets outside, a deafening patter against the windowpanes that should have been soothing.

Then, through the steady rhythm of the downpour, Rhys heard a faint rustling noise down below on the ground floor.

His heart sank into his stomach. No... she can’t be that crazy. There is no way.

A second later, the sharp, unmistakable crash of something heavy falling and shattering echoed up the stairwell.

This bitch is that crazy! Rhys screamed in his head, panic instantly flooding his veins.

Beside him, Lira stirred, her golden eyes snapping open as she sat up alert in the dark. “Did you hear that?”

“I heard the noise too,” Rhys said quickly, his voice tight as he threw back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Lira reached out, her hand resting gently on his bare shoulder. “Stay here, Rhys. I’ll go check it out. It could be anything—a stray animal, an intruder...”

“No,” Rhys said adamantly, turning to face her with a stern, immovable look. “I’ll go check it. You stay here and rest. I can handle a petty house robber.” He spoke that last phrase with extra venom, directing every ounce of his hidden rage toward the uninvited guest downstairs.

Leaving the warmth of the bedroom, Rhys navigated the dark hallway and tiptoed down the stairs, his pulse pounding in his ears. He rounded the corner into the living room, and his worst fears were instantly confirmed.

Dione was standing in the center of the room. She was still drenched from the downpour outside, but her hydrokinetic power was subtly flaring, magically lifting droplets of rainwater off her skin and dress so they floated around her like suspended crystals. The faint moonlight streaming through the window caught the moisture, making her look unnaturally, hauntingly beautiful.

Then Rhys saw what she was holding.

In her wet hands were framed photographs of him and Lira—pictures taken over the years capturing their wedding, their anniversaries, their quiet domestic life. Dione’s face was twisted into a bizarre, unsettling cocktail of longing, desperation, and raw envy. Yet beneath all the madness, Rhys could see an unmistakable, unwanted love for him shining in her eyes as her thumb traced over his face in the glass.

“Dione, are you out of your fucking mind?!” Rhys whisper-shouted, stepping into the room.

Dione whirled around excitedly at the sound of his voice. Without hesitation, she dropped the framed photos onto the rug and leaped at him.

Rhys had no choice but to catch her to keep them both from crashing to the floor. Before he could utter a single word of protest, Dione clamped her hands around his neck and pulled him down into a breathless, desperate French kiss. Her tongue breached his lips instantly, searching every corner of his mouth with a frantic, possessive hunger.

Horrified, Rhys tore his face away, his skin crawling. He couldn’t comprehend how she could act this way—throwing every boundary, every shred of dignity, and the safety of her own life to the absolute wind.

“Rhys? Is everything okay down there?” Lira’s clear, powerful voice echoed down the stairwell from the bedroom above.

Rhys froze, his chest contracting in pure terror. He cleared his throat frantically and shouted back, “It’s fine, honey! Just... a chair got knocked over!”

“Okay,” Lira called back, her tone laced with sweet, unconditional trust. “Let me know if you need me, sweetheart.”

A sudden, overwhelming surge of love for his wife washed through Rhys’s chest at her words. It steeled his resolve, cutting through the daze of panic. He gripped Dione by the shoulders and began firmly ushering her toward the front entrance to throw her out.

But Dione was deceptively agile. With a fluid, watery motion, she spun right out of his grip and slipped past him, making a beeline straight for the kitchen.

Rhys’s mind started buzzing frantically. His defunct kinetic cells sparkled and sputtered painfully in his chest as his stress spiked to critical levels. He chased after her into the dark kitchen, whisper-shouting, “Dione, stop! What the hell are you doing?!”

He saw the damage then—a shattered vase near the counter and the kitchen’s back door sitting wide open, its lock broken from the outside. Seemed locking the door earlier didn’t mean shit, Rhys thought bitterly to himself.

Dione casually leaned her hips back against the kitchen counter, gazing up at him with dark, smoldering eyes. “I couldn’t help it, Rhys,” she purred softly, her breath hitching. “I’ve been thinking about you non-stop... I couldn’t stay away.”

“You have to stay away!” Rhys spat, keeping his voice as low as humanly possible while stepping into her space to confront her. “What you did tonight—standing outside our window, watching us—you crossed a massive boundary! It’s over, Dione. Do you hear me? It is completely over!”

Dione shook her head slowly, a tragic, obsessive smile playing on her lips. “I can’t accept that, Rhys.”

She reached out, her magical influence causing a sudden, localized shift in the room’s barometric pressure. The sudden air density created a subtle vacuum, pulling Rhys’s body forward against his will. He tried to lean back and fight it, but his footing gave out, and he fell directly into her waiting embrace.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and she immediately began kissing his jaw and neck, her hands wandering shamelessly over his chest and back. Rhys put his hands firmly against her shoulders, leaning his upper body as far away as he could manage.

Yet as he looked down into her wide, tear-filled eyes, the sheer, pathetic pity inside him became almost palpable. Her touch was intoxicatingly warm, completely shattering the sweet, quiet housewife persona that the rest of the world knew her as. Truly, this wild, uninhibited creature was the real Dione, and she was laying herself completely bare only for him—not even for her own husband, Darius.

“I saw you earlier, Rhys...” Dione whimpered against his skin, her voice cracking. “I saw you in the back office with Ariadne.”

Rhys went entirely pale. He was aghast, yet deep down, given the madness of the night, he wasn’t even surprised anymore.

“Watching you take her on that desk... it drove me completely out of my mind,” Dione confessed, her hands gripping his shirt tightly. “And watching you with Lira upstairs just now... it was my breaking point! Please, Rhys... break me like you broke Ariadne! Please! It’s not fair that she gets that side of you and I get pushed away!”

Rhys stood in utter shock, his mind grinding to a halt. For a terrible, terrifying second, he couldn’t even formulate a response. Dione had presented a sick, twisted, yet undeniable logic. The hypocritical double standard of holding out on her, maintaining his moral high ground, while he had surrendered to Ariadne earlier in the evening was a glaring contradiction he couldn’t deny.

Before the angel on his shoulder could even attempt to pull him back to sanity, Dione seized his hesitation. She surged upward, locking him into another deep, ravenous French kiss while her hand slid down, gripping his groin through his pants.

With practiced, lightning-fast fingers, she unbuckled his belt and freed him. Still pressing her lips wildly against his, she took his length into her bare hand.

Both of her slick, rain-warmed hands began moving in smooth, solid, frantically rhythmic motions. Dione deftly shifted her body, turning him against the counter and maneuvering in ways that made Rhys’s head spin. The surrounding ambient air thickened, filling with hundreds of tiny, floating water droplets that shimmered like diamonds in the dark.

She pulled back an inch, her eyes dripping with a terrifying, absolute devotion as she looked up at him.

“On my home planet... my people have an ancient custom,” Dione whispered, her hands never slowing their relentless, expert rhythm for a single second. “We are born mystically tied to someone we are destined to meet... someone truly special.”

So a soulmate, Rhys thought sarcastically, his mind struggling to stay afloat as her hands sent searing waves of pleasure straight to his core.

“Once we bond with that person,” Dione continued breathlessly, her movements growing faster, “the male inherits immense power, and the female unlocks her second stage of evolution...”

This isn’t some soulmate stuff, Rhys thought with grim reality, feeling the ancient, primordial magic laced in her touch.

“I am not your soulmate, Dione!” Rhys whisper-shouted, his voice cracking with a bit too much volume in the quiet house.

Upstairs, footsteps shifted on the ceiling. “Rhys?” Lira’s voice called down, sounding a bit more awake now. “Are you sure you’re okay down there?”

Rhys was unequivocally not okay. He was teetering right on the razor’s edge, his physical body betraying his mind as the intense excitement and Dione’s frantic, magical motions overwhelmed his senses.

“I’m... I’m okay, honey!” Rhys managed to choke out, his voice trembling as he leaned his head back against the upper cabinets.

The moment he finished speaking, Dione capitalized on his parted lips, plunging her tongue back into his mouth to smother any further shouts. Her tongue moved expertly, tasting him, and all of Rhys’s cohesive thoughts instantly evaporated.

Dione increased her speed to a dizzying tempo. Her hydrokinetic magic infused the air, expertly channeling micro-droplets of cool, friction-reducing liquid down onto her palms. The lubrication was flawless, a testament to her absolute, frightening control over her element.

“Rhys...” Lira’s voice echoed down again, a subtle note of confusion creeping in. “Why does it sound like you’re still in the kitchen?”

Rhys desperately tore his mouth away from Dione’s, panting heavily into the dark. “I... I went to check! It was just... a Coonrat that got into the trash!”

His voice hitched horribly on the last word as Dione refused to relent, looking up at him with wide, adoration-filled eyes, cooing softly like a devoted maiden serving her lord.

Rhys was utterly furious at himself and at her, but his exhausted, overstimulated body completely gave up the fight. A low, helpless moan escaped his throat as his whole frame shuddered violently.

Dione gasped in manic excitement, her eyes locked onto his face as she watched him break.

Rhys went straight over the edge, his climax hitting him with the force of a freight train as he finished hard into her waiting hand.

Dione immediately brought her other hand around the back of his head, pulling him down into a ravenous, messy French kiss while her slick palm kept pumping him through every violent, pulse of his release. The sheer volume of excess spillover splashed everywhere—across her wrists, her chest, and the slick kitchen floor beneath them.

She kept kissing him deeply, tasting him, making his head tumult in a dazed, intoxicating fog. Around them, the suspended raindrops hovering in the air grew thicker, heavy with her ambient magical energy.

Rhys leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, his chest heaving, his brain floating in another realm entirely as he tried desperately to process how to hide the mess, get rid of Dione, and stop Lira from walking down those stairs.