Page 81 of Celestial Combat

I exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking my head.Christ.

“Yeah,” I muttered, my smirk matching hers. “You’ll live. Try not to be too disappointed.”

Kali huffed a small breath of amusement, but just as quickly, her expression shifted. Her nose scrunched slightly as she inhaled, her head turning toward the stairs leading down to the main loft.

I knew the exact moment she caught the scent.

She went still. Her brows pinched together faintly, as if she were trying to place something, and then her stomach growled, loud enough to cut through the quiet.

I bit back another smirk, watching as she finally turned to look at me, suspicion flickering in her gaze.

“Is that…?”

“You were in the bath for an hour. What’d you think I was doing?”

Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to argue – but then another growl from her stomach cut her off. She scowled, like she was personally offended by her own hunger.

“I’m starving,” She muttered, more to herself than me.

I pushed up, nodding toward the stairs. “Then let’s eat.”

The last remnants of dinner sat between us – empty bowls, the rich scent of broth still lingering in the warm air. The loft was quiet except for the distant hum of the city beyond the massive windows. Brooklyn at night stretched out before us in a scattered haze of streetlights and neon, reflections bouncing off the glass as if the city itself was alive.

We sat on the floor cushions at the low table, our bodies loose from the heat of the meal, the weight of the night settling into something quieter.

Kali leaned back slightly, stretching her legs out in front of her. She studied me, dark eyes glinting in the dim light before she tilted her head, lips curving.

“I didn’t expect you to know how to cook.”

There was something teasing in her tone, but it wasn’t sharp. It was curiosity laced with genuine appreciation.

I exhaled, reaching for my whiskey glass. “Fighters need good food to stay in shape,” I said simply, swirling the amber liquid. “It’s important to stay healthy.”

She hummed in response, taking another sip of her own drink, the whiskey catching the light as it passed her lips.

I leaned back against the edge of the couch, letting my gaze roam over her in the low glow of the loft. Her hair was still damp and curly. My shirt was too big on her – hangingoff one shoulder, the fabric loose around her frame – but the sight of her in it sent something dark and possessive curling low in my stomach.

I shoved that feeling down and reached for another piece of dark chocolate from the plate between us.

Kali’s hand shot out before I could grab it, stealing the extra piece from my plate.

I arched a brow at her.

She popped the chocolate into her mouth, chewing slowly, her lips twitching. “What? Fighters need food for strength.”

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “That right?”

She shrugged, licking a crumb off her bottom lip. “It’s only fair. You’re the one who said it.”

I didn’t answer right away. I just watched her, the golden light catching in the sharp angles of her face, softening her. There was something about this moment – her sitting across from me, fingers still dusted with chocolate, the city glowing behind her – that made it hard to remember why this was supposed to be off-limits.

I knocked back a slow sip of whiskey, letting the burn settle in my chest before I said, “Next time, I’m charging you.”

She smirked over the rim of her glass. “I’d like to see you try.”

I didn’t say anything to that. Just leaned forward, setting my empty glass on the table, and let the space between us shrink just enough to make her breath hitch.

The challenge in her eyes never wavered.

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