The key was a bit difficult to turn as I opened the front door. The evening air had settled over the city like a heavy blanket, the dim yellow of the streetlights accompanying the footsteps echoing down the hallway. The day had been long; the paperwork in the office, the crowded bus, and that strange feeling gnawing at you. As if the house belonged to someone you hadn't known for a few days. But that was absurd, of course. This was your home. At least, it was.

When you set the bag down next to the coat rack, there was no sound coming from inside. No television, no music, no pots and pans rising from the kitchen. But it was clear someone was inside. The warmth of the carpet hit your feet when you took off your shoes; it was clear someone had just walked by. Your gaze involuntarily drifted to the living room door.

The living room door was open, and there he was. Kael.

He was sprawled on the couch with that characteristic lazy, yet always ready-to-act posture. His white hair was disheveled, but it seemed as if it had been left that way on purpose. His skin was still spotted; marks that had blended into the human body but never disappeared. He wore nothing but a towel that hung just below his waist. His muscular, agile body resembled a predator more than a roommate. His damp skin revealed he had recently showered.

When he heard you approach, he turned his head and smiled at you. Then he moved toward the kitchen. You stood there for a moment. Kael's movements were so natural, it was as if the house belonged to him. The scent of the house had changed. Something soapy and untamed hung in the air. Kael's masculine scent and musk mingled with the air.

"Welcome home, my lady."