c037

With Hyun-tae gone to Jeoseung for the numbers, there is not much else for Seokga and Hani to do but wait.

And waiting with Seokga is very, very satisfying.

It is the best sort of distraction—the only way her mind will stop running laps around Somi and the eoduksini and the streets of shadow outside.

Hani writhes in satisfaction as Seokga kisses the column of her neck, his lips burning her skin, lighting her on fire. She is swimming in a sea of black silk sheets, running her hands up his bare, corded, muscular back, in awe of the way she burns beneath him. She has never felt alive in the way that she does underneath his touch, even the whisper of his skin against hers sending a thrill through her body, desire distracting her from the messy tangle of guilt and horror knotting her insides. She sighs, running her hands through his hair as his lips once again meet hers. Hani can feel him suppressing a smile, and she wonders how it is that this fallen god—this pillar of ice and steel—melts so completely around her.

Her and nobody else.

"Hani," he murmurs against her lips, pulling away. And there is that look of soft vulnerability that she adores, that she first saw on his sleeping face in Geoje, highlighted by the morning sun. There is no sun now—only darkness covers the city of New Sinsi—but somehow, this look remains. "Hani," he repeats, voice thick with desire.

"Seokga," she replies teasingly, toying with a strand of his hair.

"Do you…" He looks so uncertain, so shy, that it breaks her heart. "Do you want to…all of it?"

"Yes," she whispers back. "Yes, I do."

A burst of pure joy flashes across Seokga's face, and he suddenly looks young—so much younger than his thousands of years. Hani smiles up at him, tracing the sharp curvature of his face with a hand. He leans into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I still hate you," he says softly, a smug little smirk playing on his lips.

"I hate you, too," she whisper-laughs. Seokga's green eyes open and refocus on her, glittering.

"I guess we'll have to change that," he murmurs.

Hani grins up at him as he toys with her Henley shirt, slowly unbuttoning it until his cold knuckles can brush against the swell of her breasts. His gaze has gone dark as he stares at her bra.

"Take it off."

A smirk tugs her lips upward as she sits up and pulls off her shirt. The soft fabric pools on the ground as she brushes it from the bed. Seokga's cheeks are tinged pink as she drops her bra onto the ground and quirks an eyebrow at him.

She watches as Seokga swallows hard.

His cheeks are the shade of ripened cherries as she sheds the rest of her clothing with a particular gusto, loving the way he stares at her ravenously.

"Your turn," she says, and her grin widens as he hastily strips before leaning in and kissing her again—this time without that final barrier between them. His mouth is hot and heavy and hungry as he lays her back on the pillows, as he trails kisses down her neck, her chest, her stomach, and…lower. Much lower.

Hani gasps and fists the black sheets in her hands as Seokga takes his time, teasing her, relishing her building tension. She can tell by the wicked glint in his eyes that he's enjoying this. Hani's head falls back as he grips her waist in his hands, as she tumbles over the edge, his name on her tongue.

Seokga rises, smiling slightly. His lips are glossy, his eyes bright with mischief.

Quivering with pleasure, Hani reaches for him, drawing his body against hers. He kisses the crown of her head and slowly, steadily, joins her as one.

Seokga is not a selfish lover, Hani learns as he rolls his hips, his hands braced on either side of the pillow. No, Seokga is not selfish at all. He is tender and gentle, his breathing shallow, his eyes bright, hooded with pleasure, and perhaps even a little bit nervous. And Hani knows that this—this is different from all the other times, for her and for him. Their lovemaking has a rhythm to it, like the rhythm to a favorite song—sweet and slow.

When they dance toward that dangerous edge, they do so together—Seokga gasping softly, burying his face in the crook of Hani's neck, and Hani wrapping her legs around his narrow waist tightly and holding him close, never wanting to let go.

And so for a long time, she doesn't. They hold each other, sleepy and sated. Seokga toys with her hair, idly combing through the tangled locks. She falls half-asleep like that, with the fallen god's fingers in her hair and her heart in his hand.

Sometime later, Hani's stomach growls very, very loudly.

Seokga chuckles from where he lays behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck. "Are you hungry, fox?"

"Perhaps," she admits, smiling against the pillows.

He lifts his head immediately, and she can practically feel the gears in his brain turning. "What would you like?"

"Seokga," she murmurs as she turns to face him, "do you know how to cook?"

For some inexplicable reason, she has a feeling that despite his impressive kitchen, Seokga has never made a meal for himself in his life. She's right—Hani watches as Seokga narrows his eyes at her and says in a much-too-indignant tone, "Of course I can cook."

"Mm." She snickers and flicks his nose. Seokga scowls, but it's only a half-hearted sort of scowl. "I'll have gimbap, then."

"Gimbap," Seokga repeats, hesitating. Hani is thoroughly amused.

"Gimbap," she repeats, fighting back a smile. "It's simple enough."

"I have made it before."

"Oh?"

"Ye-es."

"For the god of deceit," she murmurs, "you're not very good at lying."

"Just not around you, it appears," he grumbles. "I'm quite good at lying otherwise."

Even as Hani smiles, her chest tightens. She is very good at lying to Seokga. She has been lying to him since she met him. Hani tears her gaze away from him abruptly, sliding from the bed and collecting her clothes from the ground. As she tugs on her sweatpants, she lets herself imagine what his reaction would be if…if she told him the truth now. He wouldn't kill her, surely—or perhaps he would, if it meant reclaiming his power. If it meant that she had deceived him, wronged him. Which she has.

"What's wrong?" Seokga's eyes narrow in wary concern as he watches her.

"Nothing," Hani says quickly. "I'm just…I'm just worried about tonight."

"The caffeine is a clever trick," Seokga says as he also slides out of bed. Hani's face flushes at the sight of his bare skin, and she hastily resorts to buttoning up her shirt. "I think that you are right. The eoduksini relies on paralyzing its victims with nightmares in order to feed. But one cannot dream if they physically cannot fall asleep."

"But it seems too easy," Hani mumbles, smoothing down her hair. "Too simple."

"The best answers are often in front of our eyes," Seokga says with a lopsided smile that is so wholly unlike him that Hani blinks in surprise. "It's only that we don't see them…until we do." He stands in front of her, his hands sliding around her waist as he brushes a kiss against the top of her head. "I am glad that you decided to be my assistant," he murmurs into her hair. "As obnoxious and annoying as you might be."

"Thank you," Hani says, mock-graciously.

She feels Seokga grin. "You're welcome," he replies drolly. Hani laughs and sends him a lewd gesture as she pulls away and makes for the door.

"You're impossible."

"You're insufferable."

"You're intolerable," Hani counters, descending the stairs and making for the kitchen.

"You tolerate me," Seokga smirks and follows, leaning against one of the black-marble counters. "One could even make the compelling case that you more than tolerate me."

She rolls her eyes and then snorts, suddenly remembering Somi's fan fiction. It had been nothing like the younger gumiho had fantasized about—there was no animalistic growling. But there had been, she reflects, a bulging—

Seokga is narrowing his eyes at her razor-sharp smirk. "Do I want to know?"

"No." Hani turns, her chest growing heavy at the thought of Somi. She wishes she could go back to those days, when her friend's only vice was writing smut. "What do you have?" she asks as she opens the pantries in search of sufficient nourishment. But the pantries she'd assumed harbored gourmet foods hold only…"Ramyeon?" Hani stares at the hundreds of packs of instant noodles as she swallows a laugh.

Seokga makes a sound suspiciously like a groan of pain behind her. She turns, laughing openly now. "Is all you consume ramyeon and coffee?"

"No," Seokga mutters, avoiding her gaze. "I usually eat out. But when I don't, I like ramyeon. It's decent. And easy."

Hani grins as she grabs two packs of the noodles. "Do you want the spicy one," she asks, holding them up in her hands, "or the shrimp-flavored one?"

Seokga's eyes are on the spicy one, but he shrugs. "Whatever one you don't want."

"We should mix them together," Hani suggests, already searching for a saucepan in which to boil water. "Spicy shrimp."

"No."

"Yes," Hani counters sweetly. "Spicy shrimp ramyeon." She locates the saucepan and sets it on the stove. "Get water," she orders over her shoulder as she twists the knob of the stove and the flame flares to life.

Seokga sighs but does as she says. As the water boils, Hani dumps in the two flavor packets with an odd sort of amusement.

The city is being devoured by darkness while she and Seokga are making noodles. It makes us sound like terrible people, she thinks, and feels an entirely inappropriate urge to both snicker and cry.

"Spicy shrimp is going to be disgusting," Seokga says as he unwraps the dried noodles and gently plops them into the water. "You're a barbarian."

Hani rolls her eyes as she presses the ramyeon down with a long soup spoon, letting them soften and break apart. "You'll like it."

And he does.

Seokga and Hani sit side by side on his sofa, eating their spicy shrimp ramyeon. Hani slurps at her noodles, savoring the mundanity of the situation. The normalcy. She can almost pretend that Somi is still sweet, innocent Somi, and that the eoduksini never escaped Jeoseung.

Almost.

Until Seokga swallows a bite of ramyeon and looks to her with a grim expression. "Nam Somi gets one—and only one—chance to explain herself," he says, setting down his chopsticks. Hani frowns. It's clear that this argument hasn't died despite their tumble in the sheets. "Even if she isn't the Scarlet Fox, she is still an Unruly. She's still killed twenty people in the last day." She can tell that he is trying his best to say it gently, but there is no mistaking the cold undertone to his words. He means it. One chance, and only one.

Hani swallows her own bite with difficulty, and with it, her rising irritation. "It is in a gumiho's nature to kill," she snaps back as calmly and as smoothly as she can. "She can't be blamed for following her most basic instincts."

Seokga is watching her carefully. "But there is a difference between you and her. You do not act on these feral instincts. She has chosen to. There is a choice in the matter."

"They're not feral," Hani retorts, clenching her chopsticks between her hands. "They're natural. And perhaps she has the Cravings. It's what happens—"

"I'm familiar with the term."

Hani sighs, setting down her bowl. "What would you do," she asks, her heart quickening, "if it was me instead of Somi?"

"For fuck's sake." Seokga frowns and averts his gaze down to his bowl. "I'm not in the mood for these ridiculous hypotheticals, Hani."

"Would you kill me?" Sweat dribbles down her spine as she continues, "Or would you do as I've asked you to do for Somi and give me a chance to explain myself? Would you still believe that the instinct to kill is feral, or would you consider that for a gumiho—it's natural? Taboo, now, sure—but natural? Just like tigers eat elephant calves, gumiho eat men and steal their souls." She holds her breath as Seokga is silent, his stare shrewd. "So—what would you do?" she asks, her voice straining. "If it was me, not Somi?"

Seokga scowls at her, stabbing at his noodles with a notable amount of force. "Luckily," he says tightly, "we do not have to contemplate this situation. You are not the Scarlet Fox." Seokga holds her gaze for a too-long moment. Hani suddenly feels feverish and shaky, her head pounding with a dull ache as he holds her stare. Finally, he looks away, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Fine. I swear on Hwanung, god of kept promises, that I will give Somi one chance. For you. And only one. But the moment she puts either you or me in jeopardy, I will do what is necessary. But I promise that her death will be quick. Clean."

Her death.

Somi'sdeath.

The food in Hani's stomach suddenly threatens to rise to her throat. She pushes to her feet and presses a hand over her mouth. "Bathroom," she manages to rasp out before hurrying from the living room into the restroom, firmly locking the door behind her. Her cheek is hot on the cold tiled floor as she collapses, drawing her knees to her chest, struggling to breathe.

When she finally stands to splash water on her face, her eyes lift to the crown of her head. Immediately, she flinches. Because there it is. On the top of her scalp, peeking out from in between curtains of chocolate brown, is the tiniest hint of a rich, ruby red.

You can't hide your roots that easily, after all.

Hani closes her eyes and swallows hard.

What a mess this is,a little voice in her head whispers. What a godsdamn mess.