After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

The morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite, painting the silk duvet in warm, golden light.

Aria didn’t open her eyes immediately. She just lay there, utterly swallowed by the sheer, decadent softness of her own mattress. After over a week of sleeping on an ICU bed that felt like a glorified ironing board, this was heaven. She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back with a soft, deeply satisfied groan, a lazy smile curving her lips.

”Do you always look that happy waking up?”

Aria’s eyes snapped open. She turned her head.

Damien was lying right beside her, propped up on his side with his elbow supporting his weight. He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, heather-grey sweatpants, his bare, muscular chest on full display. His silver hair was a complete, chaotic mess, and he was watching her with a dark, heavy gaze that made the air in the room suddenly feel very thin.

Aria blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

”What time is it?” Aria mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. She glanced around the room. ”Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Damien’s brow furrowed slightly. ”Don’t you like waking up to see your husband?”

”I mean, I love the view,” Aria chuckled, sinking back into the pillows and stretching her legs out. ”But I also really like having this massive bed entirely to myself. I can starfish.”

The playful glint in her emerald eyes was a direct challenge.

Damien shifted his weight, caging her in instantly. His arms bracketing either side of her head, his broad chest hovering just inches above hers.

”Well, that’s too bad,” Damien murmured, his golden eyes dropping to her lips. ”Because I really like having you all to myself.”

He lowered his head and kissed her.

Aria immediately slapped her hands over her mouth, twisting her head away with a horrified squeak.

”Stop, stop!” Aria complained, her cheeks flushing a vibrant shade of crimson. ”I haven’t brushed my teeth! I have morning breath!”

Damien let out a low chuckle. ”Do you honestly think that is going to stop me?”

He didn’t give her a choice. He gently but firmly wrapped his hand around her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face, and captured her lips again.

Aria didn’t fight him. The moment his mouth parted over hers, a soft moan slipped from her throat. He tasted like expensive mint toothpaste. His tongue swept into her mouth, deepening the kiss with a slow, rolling rhythm that made her toes curl.

As the kiss deepened, his hand began to wander.

He dragged his palm up her bare stomach, catching on the hem of her silk camisole, pushing it higher. His hand coming to rest firmly over her left breast.

He squeezed the soft flesh, kneading it with a rhythmic pressure.

Aria whimpered directly into his mouth.

Damien finally broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he trailed hot kisses down her jawline and onto the sensitive column of her neck.

”I want to lock us in this room forever,” Damien confessed against her skin. ”I don’t ever want to let you go.”

”Just stock the mini-fridge with snacks and we can definitely do that,” Aria panted, her fingers tangling in his messy silver hair.

Damien lifted his head, a dark, devastating smirk playing on his lips. His gaze dropped to her chest. The cool air of the bedroom combined with his wandering hands had caused her nipples to harden into tight peaks, pressing visibly against the thin silk of her camisole.

Damien ducked his head and nipped her right through the fabric, biting down lightly with his teeth.

”Ah!” Aria shrieked, swatting him hard on his bicep.

She scrambled backward against the headboard, crossing her arms over her chest, her face burning. ”You can’t just do that so suddenly! Give a girl a warning! What if I just suddenly reached down and grabbed your dick?!”

Damien leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the mattress.

”I would love for you to grab my dick,” Damien stated, his voice a deadly serious, corporate baritone. ”Grab it. Suck it. Sit on it. I am open to you doing absolutely anything you want to do with it, without warning, at any hour of the day.”

Aria’s jaw actually dropped. The blush on her cheeks spread rapidly down her neck.

”You are such a pervert,” Aria accused, grabbing a pillow and holding it like a shield.

Damien smirked, feigning absolute innocence. ”I am simply communicating my desires to my wife. I read an article that said open communication makes for healthy relationships.”

”Oh, really?” Aria challenged, her eyes narrowing as she dropped the pillow.

She lunged forward.

Before Damien could react, Aria yanked him down, and bit him firmly right on his bare, pectoral muscle, nipping his own nipple with her teeth.

Damien let out a sharp, surprised hiss, his entire body going rigid.

Aria pulled back, feeling incredibly triumphant at the rare look of genuine shock plastered across Damien’s face.

”How do you like it?” Aria teased, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Damien stared at her for two seconds. Slowly, the shock melted into a hungry smirk.

”I like it a lot, actually,” Damien growled, his golden eyes flashing. ”Do it again.”

”You are so shameless—”

Aria didn’t get to finish her sentence. Damien crushed his mouth to hers, completely overwhelming her with his kiss.

They were so wrapped up in each other that the first noise barely registered.

Aria broke the kiss instantly, shoving hard against Damien’s shoulders. ”Did you hear that?”

”No,” Damien responded, entirely focused on getting her camisole off.

But the second noise was impossible to ignore.

CLANG. CRASH.

It was the unmistakable sound of heavy metal pans hitting the floor.

They both froze, listening.

In a fraction of a millisecond, Damien’s golden eyes went entirely dead. His jaw locked into stone.

He rolled off the bed with silent grace. He didn’t bother putting a shirt on. He strode directly to the nightstand, ripped the top drawer open, and pulled out a matte-black Glock 19. He grabbed a sleek, cylindrical suppressor from the drawer and twisted it onto the threaded barrel with practiced efficiency.

He racked the slide, chambering a round.

Aria scrambled off the bed, adjusting her camisole, her heart hammering in her throat. She stepped toward him.

”Damien—”

”Stay,” Damien commanded. He didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on the bedroom door.

”But—”

Damien whipped his head around, fixing her with a glare so cold it actually chilled the blood in her veins.

”Stay in the fucking room, Aria,” Damien ordered, his voice an absolute, unyielding absolute zero.

Aria swallowed the argument burning on her tongue. She took a step back, pressing herself against the doorframe, watching as Damien melted into the hallway like a shadow.

Damien moved without making a single sound. His bare feet were completely silent on the floor. He held the handgun tight against his chest, sweeping the corners of the long corridor with the cold precision of a highly-trained killer.

Someone had breached his penthouse. Someone had bypassed the biometric scanners, the private elevator, and the armed guards.

He reached the threshold of the massive, open-concept living area.

The morning sunlight flooded the room, but Damien kept to the shadows of the wall. His eyes locked onto the kitchen.

A stainless steel pot cover was still wobbling slightly on the marble floor near the center island.

Damien raised the Glock, his finger slipping inside the trigger guard, resting lightly on the cold metal. He took a slow, calculated step toward the kitchen archway, his muscles coiled tight, ready to put a bullet straight through the center of whoever was hiding in his home.

He took another step.

Suddenly, a figure violently jumped out from behind the refrigerator, throwing their hands into the air.

”BOO!” a female voice shrieked playfully.

Damien operated on pure instinct.

Pfft.

The gunshot was a soft, dull spit of air.

”AIEEEEE!”

The playful shout instantly morphed into a blood-curdling, agonizing scream of pure agony.

The figure collapsed onto the kitchen floor, clutching her right thigh as blood immediately began to soak through the expensive cream cashmere fabric of her pants.

Damien froze, the gun still raised.

He blinked, the adrenaline crashing as his brain finally caught up to his reflexes.

He stared at the woman writhing and sobbing on his kitchen floor. Damien lowered the gun, his eyes widening in disbelief.

”What the fuck, Diana?!”