The next morning sunlight spilled across the bedroom in soft gold bands.

Kieran stood at the full-length mirror, buttoning his black dress shirt with slow, precise movements. The scar from the bullet wound was still pink under the fabric, but he moved like it was nothing. Genesis leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching him with a small, hungry smile.

“Someone’s looking good enough to eat,” she said, her voice soft and teasing.

Kieran’s eyes flicked to her in the reflection, dark and amused. He crooked two fingers without turning.

“Come here.”

She smiled wider and padded across the cold tiles in bare feet. When she reached him he turned,...