Kiss Me, All Five of You

Blinding high beams. The deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. A violent jolt forward.

Then, total darkness.

I blinked open my eyes, expecting the sterile lights of a hospital room.

Instead, an unfamiliar white ceiling loomed over me. Cold air brushed my bare skin.

"Where the hell am I?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"My bed."

The deep, gravelly voice startled me.

I turned my head. A man lay beside me, his face half-buried in the pillow. His dark eyelashes were ridiculously thick against his cheek.

"Did I hit someone?" I asked, sitting up slightly. "The car crash..."

"You didn't hit anyone," he mumbled, shifting under the sheets. "You just hit the whiskey bottle too hard."

My brain screamed to run. Get up. Find your clothes. Flee.

My body ignored the warning entirely.

I looked at his broad, bare shoulders. A strange heat pooled in my stomach. Without a single conscious thought, I rolled over and smashed my mouth against his lips.

Complete insanity.

Yet, the physical instinct overpowered all logic. My hands tangled in his thick hair, pulling him closer.

I yanked my head back, breaking the kiss abruptly. "Who are you?"

The man groaned. His eyes fluttered open, revealing striking amber irises. "You fuck me all night, and by morning you forget who I am?"

"I don't know you." I tried to sound angry, but my hips betrayed me, sliding closer to his radiating heat.

He smirked, clearly assuming this was a game. "I'm your favorite, Kael."

"Kael," I repeated. The name meant absolutely nothing to me.

"Don't act shy now," he teased, his voice thick with sleep. "You weren't shy when you were screaming my name three hours ago."

"I don't remember anything," I said, my heart racing.

"You drank half a bottle of liquor. But your body remembers."

His scent—a sharp, intoxicating blend of pine and male sweat—gripped my senses. It pulled me in like a magnet. My thighs burned, a deep soreness screaming that we had spent hours tearing each other apart.

"I need to leave," I lied.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his large hand sliding up my bare thigh.

"I'm not acting," I insisted, even as I leaned my face inches from his.

"Prove it."

Kael met me halfway. His mouth crashed into mine, his tongue shoving past my lips, tasting of mint and raw desire.

Strange as it was, I barely knew him. Yet my body surrendered to him without resistance.

I didn't refuse to kiss him.

The wet slapping sound of our bodies filled the quiet room.

"That's it. Take it all," he grunted. His hands squeezed my bare breasts, his thumbs rolling roughly over my stiff nipples. "Tell me how good my dick feels."

I moaned, throwing my head back.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I opened my eyes, meeting his intense amber gaze.

"Harder," I demanded, increasing my pace.

"Demanding little slut this morning, aren't you?" he laughed, thrusting up hard to meet my downward rhythm.

A strange, overpowering urge seized my jaw. I dropped my head and sank my teeth directly into the thick muscle where his neck met his shoulder. I bit down hard, tasting copper. It felt like claiming him, forging an intimate link right into his skin. I had no idea why I needed to mark that exact spot.

"You want to leave a mark? Go ahead. Bite me again."

Sweat coated my forehead. I braced my hands on his shoulders, watching his handsome face shake violently with every upward thrust.

"Give it to me," I begged.

"I'm giving you everything," he snarled.

Then, the bedroom vanished.

A blinding flash of silver hijacked my vision.

A short, curved dagger. It plunged straight into Kael's left chest. Blood sprayed, hot and crimson, soaking through a dark shirt. The metallic smell of blood replaced the scent of pine.

The image disappeared just as fast.

I gasped, my fingers locking around his thick wrist like a vise. I stopped moving completely.

"What the fuck is wrong?" Kael asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You're going to be in danger on a cliff in a week," I blurted out, panic making my voice shrill.

Kael didn't pull out. He just reached up, pinched my cheek, and laughed loudly.

"Liora, your storytelling is getting better," he chuckled. He dragged his mouth down my throat, his tongue lapping at my collarbone. "Is this a new roleplay?"

"I'm not Liora," I said, shoving his shoulder hard. "I'm Clara."

"You can be whoever you want to be," Kael murmured against my skin. He snapped his hips up again, forcing a loud moan from my lips. "Just keep riding me."

"Listen to me!" I yelled, trying to pull away.

"I'm listening to your pussy grip my dick," he replied, grabbing my hips to hold me firmly in place.

"I saw a knife!"

"I'll give you something sharp right now," he grunted, fucking me faster, harder, until the room spun.

He fucked me until my body completely gave out. I collapsed heavily over his chest, gasping for air.

When it was over, the silence of the room returned, thick and suffocating.

"Good girl," he whispered, his eyes closing. He fell asleep almost instantly, his breathing evening out.

I lay there, wide awake. Absolute terror clawed at my throat.

I was twenty-two years old. I had never lost control of myself. I had never jumped a stranger, begged for his dick, or bitten his flesh like a wild animal.

"What is happening to me?" I whispered to the empty room.

That vision of the silver dagger wasn't a hallucination. It felt like a memory of something that hadn't happened yet. And it was crystal clear.

My gaze drifted down to Kael's left chest.

Right where the blade had entered in my mind, a faint, glowing silver mark was already forming on his skin.

Kael stretched lazily before climbing out of bed. He pulled on a pair of dark trousers, buttoned his shirt halfway, then glanced back at me with a crooked grin.

"You really should get some sleep."

I barely heard him.

The moment he reached for the doorknob, another violent flash ripped through my mind.

A heavy ceramic flowerpot.

Cracked terracotta.

Dark soil exploding across the pavement.

And Kael—

Standing directly beneath it.

My heart lurched.

"Wait!"

My voice came out much louder than I intended.

Kael paused, one eyebrow lifting. "What now?"

I stared at him, the image still burning behind my eyes.

"Don't leave through the front entrance."

He chuckled. "Why?"

"Because..." I swallowed hard. "A flowerpot is going to fall from one of the upper floors. It'll hit you."

He stared at me for two seconds before laughing outright.

"That's your emergency?"

"I'm serious."

"Liora," he said, amused, "if you're trying to keep me in bed, there are much more convincing excuses."

"I'm not joking!" I grabbed his wrist. "Please. Just wait a minute."

He gently pried my fingers away.

"I'll survive a flowerpot."

Then he walked out.

Every instinct screamed at me to chase after him.

I threw on the first robe I could find and ran barefoot into the hallway.

By the time I reached the apartment lobby, Kael had already stepped outside.

"Kael!"

He turned at the sound of my voice.

At that exact second—

Crash!

A large ceramic planter plummeted from the balcony several stories above.

It smashed against the edge of the building before slamming into Kael's shoulder instead of his head.

The impact knocked him sideways onto one knee.

Terracotta shards exploded across the pavement as soil and shattered roots scattered everywhere.

Gasps erupted from pedestrians.

Kael froze for a heartbeat, then slowly looked from the broken planter...to me.

His teasing smile vanished.

"..."

"Why," he asked quietly, "did you know that was going to happen?"

"I told you I could see it."

But I didn't know why, either.

All I knew was that the vision had come true.

And if this one was real...

Then the silver dagger buried in Kael's chest a week from now might be real, too.