After the tension of the morning, just as she turned towards next alley of library.
She instantly saw Lucifer, she felt a wave of relief as she finally have someone who truly understand and loves her.
Looking at lucifer who was waving his hands she quickened her pace almost running.
"Hi!!! Sorry.... I was late." Kyra said as her face darted around everywhere but not Lucifer's face.
Seeing this, Lucifer rage was completely gone as he chuckled and handed her a gift.
"It's ok, babe I can wait eternity for you...here I have brought you a gift."
Kyra clutched the gift Lucifer had handed her as if it were her favourite thing.
The sleek velvet box felt heavy in her trembling hands—an anchor pulling her deeper into his orbit.
For a fleeting moment, amid the bustling street, his dark eyes softened with an echo of the warmth she'd first fallen for.
"You look beautiful, my dear Kyra," he murmured, before his gaze sharpened on her face.
"But what happened to your cheek? It's all red and swollen."
"Um, Mom slapped me," she admitted, her voice dropping as she touched the tender skin.
The memory of the morning's sting rushed back, making her feel small.
Lucifer's brow furrowed, but the concern felt more like an interrogation than comfort.
"What? Why? You mentioned poor marks—were they that bad?" He paused, his voice taking on an edge that made her pulse quicken.
"And why was your phone switched off yesterday? I called you over fifty times, Kyra. You know that drives me crazy."
She swallowed hard, knowing how much he hated losing face, the noise of the city fading as his stare pinned her to the spot.
"Yes, babe... You know in early semester I had that TB flare-up and liver pains dragging me down. I couldn't focus at all—I ended up with just 62%."
Desperate to bridge the growing gap between them, she reached for his hand, her fingers brushing his knuckles hopefully. "It was a rough patch, but—"
"62%?" He cut her off, yanking his hand away as if her failure were contagious.
His eyes widened, then narrowed into cold slits, his face darkening like a sudden storm.
"Are you kidding me? That's abysmal! What the hell is wrong with you, Kyra? You've been wasting hours in libraries and coaching—or so you said!"
His voice escalated into a harsh bark, slicing through the chaos of honking cars and pedestrian chatter.
Nearby, a group of teens paused to whisper and giggle at the spectacle.
Kyra's face flushed crimson, humiliation burning hotter than the midday sun.
"No... please, don't worry. I'll do better next time, I promise," she pleaded, shrinking back as his shadow loomed over her. "Just... don't be angry like this."
Lucifer scanned the staring crowd with a scowl, his jaw clenched so tight it looked ready to snap. "This isn't the place," he snapped. "Let's go to the gaming center—we'll talk properly there."
Without waiting for a response, he marched down the cracked sidewalk. Kyra scrambled to keep up, her sneakers slapping the pavement and her skirt whipping in the hot gusts of wind.
"Babe, wait up! Please don't stay mad, na? It was just a bad day."
She tried to loop her arm through his, but he shrugged her off, his pace unrelenting as they wove past coffee carts and loiterers.
The silence between them stretched for three long blocks, thick with his simmering fury.
Until the neon signs of "Cyber Zone" buzzed into view.
Inside, the air hummed with arcade beeps and heavy bass.
Lucifer didn't look back; he simply grabbed her wrist—his grip firm, almost bruising—and hauled her through the crowd of gamers toward a private booth at the back.
The door clicked shut, muffling the arcade's roar and leaving them in a dim, heavy silence broken only by the faint glow of dormant screens.
He sank onto the worn leather sofa with a heavy sigh and yanked her down beside him.
The space was cramped, her thighs pressing against his in the humid air.
"What, I can't even hold you now?"
He muttered, his hand sliding to her waist and tugging her closer until her hip molded to his.
Kyra froze, her mind scrambling for an excuse, her eyes darting around. Her stomach chose that moment to growl, a hollow reminder of a day spent without food.
"It's not that—I'm just too tired.. and hungry." she whispered instantly, her fingers tentatively brushing his cheek in an attempt to soothe him.
"I haven't eaten since yesterday. Mind if I grab a snack from the counter? Then we can talk, I promise."
He caught her hand, pressing it against his face as his voice dropped into a husky, demanding register.
"Food can wait. Tell me, Kyra—did you miss me this whole month? Be honest."
His free hand traced her jaw, his thumb grazing her lower lip with a pressure that wasn't entirely gentle.
He leaned in, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath hot and ragged.
His gaze searched her mouth—those delicate, innocent yet tempting lips—and the room seemed to shrink until there was no air left.
Kyra's breath hitched. "I... yeah, of course—"
The words were stolen as he suddenly captured her lips in a kiss that was fierce and unyielding.
Goosebumps erupted across her skin as she remained frozen.
It wasn't the soft romance she had imagined; it was a claim.
One arm banded her waist, his fingers fisting into the fabric of her top caressing her waist while his other hand tangled in her hair to tilt her head back.
She stiffened, her hands flat against his chest, caught in the terrifying limbo between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
He growled softly against her mouth as he felt her distracted and nipping her lower lip with deliberate force.
Pain bloomed, sharp and metallic; her mouth parted on a gasp, and he surged in—his tongue delving deep, claiming her with swirling, insistent strokes.
Heat flooded her veins, her body arching traitorously as his thigh wedged between hers, pinning her against the hard lines of his frame.
The scent of his woody cologne and the tang of blood from her bitten lip overwhelmed her senses.
Too much, too fast, her mind screamed.
The sting on her lip intensified, snapping the spell. Panic surged through her and Kyra shoved him back with a burst of desperate strength.
She scrambled to the edge of the sofa, chest heaving, her eyes wide with shock.
Then, the guilt hit. Oh god, what did I do? He's going to be furious. Fix it, fix it!
"I'm sorry—it was just...just..pure reflex!" she stammered, forcing a shaky, heartbreaking smile as tears pricked her eyes.
She scooted back toward him, pressing feather-light, apologetic kisses to his cheek, then a quick, timid peck on his lips.
Lucifer exhaled slowly, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders, though his eyes remained dark with frustration.
"Kyra... you need to get comfortable with this. We're in a real relationship. I'm adult enough to have needs."
He leaned back, his tone turning clinical and manipulative.
"Look at other guys—they're out hunting. But I wait for you. Even when you shove me away, I don't bail.
Life isn't just your spiritual fantasies, you know? My friends roast me for how much I endure."
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, the flick of his lighter punctuating his point. Bitter smoke wreathed them, veiling his face.
"Um, okay... just give me a little time?" Kyra twisted her hands in her lap, her voice sounding small even to her own ears.
"It's my first relationship, and today has been... a lot."
"Fine. Go home, rest up," he said abruptly as he looked at the phone which kept vibrating and stood up, grabbing his jacket.
Then he took the gift box and shoved it back into her lap with a sudden, ghostly return of his earlier affection, stroking her hair.
"Remember to wear it and answer my calls and texts. You know my patience wears thin."
He leaned down, pressing a possessive kiss to her forehead.
"I've gotta bounce—meeting the guys for drinks.
Take the subway; it's quicker. And lock the door when you leave. Don't want any randos wandering in."
The door thudded shut, leaving Kyra in a heavy, reeking silence.
She sat frozen, clutching the gift box like a lifeline, his warning about his "patience" echoing in her mind. Her fingers drifted to her bitten lip, tracing the tender swell.
The pain lanced through her again, bringing with it a flood of buried hurts—the times he'd gripped her too hard, the demands she'd tried to ignore, the slow, quiet erosion of who she was.
As memories kept surfacing she felt a wave of nausea and frantically rubbed her lips trying to scrub away the taste of him, the taste of the smoke, and the metallic tang of her own blood. Tears spilled hot and silent, tracing paths through the dust and sweat on her cheeks.
Is this the love I dreamed of? she wondered. Family shattered, friends distant... and this romance feels like a cage.
A choked sob erupted, turning into raw, hollow cries that bounced off the cramped walls of the booth.
When she finally rose, exhaustion making even keeping her eyes open impossible, she staggered to the window.
Afternoon sunlight pierced through, summer wind mocking her despair.
God, what sin have I committed? I can't endure this anymore...
Ding....
Her phone vibrated. Snapping alert, she powered it on:
[Hey!!! Kyra, where are you? Why the delay? Lady boss is asking... Hurry!!]
Ashley's urgent text jolted her—cafe shift! Glancing at the clock—2 PM.
God, I'm late...
She bolted to the washroom, splashing icy water on her face.
The mirror showed a wreck: puffy eyes, slapped cheek, bruised lips. Shivering, she scrubbed viciously—teeth, mouth, skin—desperate to wash away the morning's grime, raw as yesterday.
Dressed in a rush, she scrambled from the booth.