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Chapter 55: No, no, no
"Kael, what the hell—?"
Kael caught Freya’s wrists before she could yank the blindfold off, his grip firm yet playful.
"No, no, no," he chided, his voice a low, teasing rumble that vibrated through the kitchen’s warm air. "That’s cheating, Freya. You’re not allowed."
Her head tilted, gray eyes hidden but her brow furrowing beneath the cloth. "What cheating?" she demanded, tugging against his hold, the spatula still dangling in her right hand.
He released her wrists with a chuckle, stepping back just enough to let the heat of his presence linger.
"Yesterday, you bragged you could cook better than me blindfolded," he said, his tone taunting, dripping with challenge. "Was that all talk, or are you actually gonna prove it?"
Freya’s lips pressed into a thin line, irritation flaring in her chest.
She could feel his grin without seeing it, that smug curve of his mouth she wanted to wipe off. Kael kept at it, his voice circling her like a predator.
"Come on, Freya—big words, no bite? I thought you were tougher than that."
"Shut up," she growled, turning back to the stove, the sizzle of spices crackling in the pan grounding her.
"Fine. Challenge accepted. But if I make better food than you—and nothing burns—you let me go. I’m free, no strings. Deal?"
Kael’s laugh was low, rich, and dangerously close. "Deal. But don’t back out when you lose."
"Fine. Let me cook—leave my hands," she snapped, shaking out her wrists as if shaking off his touch.
He stepped back, the absence of his grip leaving her skin tingling, and she squared her shoulders, determined.
"Don’t go back on your word," she warned, her voice firm despite the blindfold’s disorienting darkness.
"Hmm," Kael mused, his tone shifting, playful yet edged with something wicked. "It’s no fun if it’s just a blindfold, though. I’ll throw in some distractions."
Freya froze, the wooden spoon hovering over the pan, the faint hiss of cumin and paprika filling the air. "Distractions?" she said, incredulous. "That’s bullshit—it’ll be impossible if you keep grabbing my hands."
"I won’t touch your hands," Kael promised, his voice smooth as silk, sliding closer. "That’s off-limits. Everything else? Fair game."
She paused, the spices popping softly, their sharp scent curling up to her nose. It was simple enough—add the chicken, let it cook, flip it when it started to crisp with a faint acrid smell.
She could do this blindfolded, no problem. "Okay," she said, exhaling slowly. "Fine. Bring it on."
The bet was on. Freya turned her head slightly, relying on her senses—smell, sound, the faint warmth of the stove—to guide her.
She reached for the raw chicken breasts Kael had left on the counter, her fingers brushing the cold, slick surface before lifting them carefully.
She laid them into the pan with a satisfying sizzle, the oil spitting as the meat hit the heat. Easy. All she had to do was wait for that faint charred scent, flip them, and win.
Piece of cake.
But where was Kael?
The kitchen felt eerily still, the only sounds the bubbling oil and her own steady breathing.
She couldn’t smell him—no trace of his usual coffee-and-wood scent, no rustle of movement. Had he left?
Her brow furrowed, senses straining—then a featherlight touch grazed her waist, warm through her thin shirt.
"ahm~" She flinched, a sharp gasp escaping as her body jolted.
"Did you think I wasn’t here?" Kael’s voice purred, low and close, his breath brushing her ear. Her pulse spiked, heat flooding her cheeks, but she clamped her lips shut, refusing to answer, entertain him.
Focus on the chicken, she told herself, gripping the spatula tighter, the sizzle her anchor.
Then he started—his fingers grazing her waist again, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve where her shirt rode up slightly.
His touch slid upward, brushing her shoulder, then down, skimming the outside of her thigh.
Freya’s breath hitched, her skin prickling under his teasing assault, but she forced her focus back to the stove, the faint aroma of cooking meat steadying her.
Kael stepped it up. His hands grew bolder, slipping to her inner thighs, brushing the sensitive skin just below the hem of her pants—light, maddening strokes that sent a shiver racing up her spine.
Then higher, grazing the swell of her breasts through her shirt, thumbs circling dangerously close to her nipples.
A soft whimper caught in her throat, and she bit her lip hard, suppressing it, her knees trembling as sweat beaded on her forehead.
He was relentless, his fingers dancing over her neck, tracing the pulse hammering there, each touch igniting a fire she fought to ignore.
"Still with me?" he murmured, his voice a velvet taunt, and she could hear the grin widening.
She didn’t answer, jaw clenched, her body betraying her as heat pooled low in her belly.
The chicken sizzled, steady—she just had to hold on. Only a matter of few minutes.
Then came the killer move.
Kael’s presence shifted, a subtle silence in the air as he activated his superpower—Empathetic Resonance, a pulse of energy that amplified sensation, tuned to her every nerve.
Freya tensed, the suspense clawing at her—the unknown, the anticipation of where he’d strike next. Her blindfolded world shrank to the heat of the stove, the scent of chicken, and the unbearable wait. 𝔫𝖔𝔳𝔭𝔲𝔟.𝖈𝔬𝔪
Suddenly, a gentle, invisible brush ghosted over her nipples, a phantom touch from his power, soft yet electric.
"Ahhn~!" A loud, unrestrained moan tore from her throat, shocking even herself, her knees buckling as she sank into a half-squat, hands gripping the counter’s edge to stay upright.
Her chest heaved, the sound echoing in the kitchen, raw and unguarded.
"What the hell was that?" she yelled, voice shaking, her face flaming beneath the blindfold.
"You mean this?" Kael said, and before she could brace herself, he did it again—another brush of his power over her nipples, sharper this time, like a lover’s teasing pinch.
"AHhn~!" The moan ripped out louder, her body quaking, thighs pressing together as a jolt of pleasure shot straight to her core.
"Stop doing that!" she gasped, cheeks burning, her voice a mix of fury and desperation.
Kael laughed, low and wicked. "I’m not touching your hands, Freya—no cheating here. Stop making excuses and focus. Your chicken’s about to burn."
Her head snapped up, the acrid hint of char hitting her nose—shit, he was right. She lunged for the spatula, fumbling briefly before flipping the chicken with a quick flick, the sizzle flaring as fresh meat met the pan.
She sighed, relief washing through her—the pieces were golden, not blackened. She hadn’t lost yet.
But Kael wasn’t done. Another brush of his power grazed her nipples, lingering this time, a slow, pulsing caress that dragged a deep, throaty moan from her.
Her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor in a squat, spatula clattering beside her as she gasped, hands clutching her thighs.
"What the hell are you doing to me?" she yelled, voice raw, her body trembling with a mix of arousal and frustration.
"Just a little distraction," Kael said, his tone smug yet husky, stepping closer—she could feel his heat now, inches away. "But it’s cheating if you’re not standing. Up you go."
Freya growled, forcing herself back to her feet, legs shaky but defiant.
This time, she crossed her arms over her chest, shielding her nipples from his invisible assault.
"Fine," she heard him murmur, his voice dropping lower.
