Heart of the Priestess

Chapter 6

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the side of my coffee table. For a second, I couldn’t place myself, couldn’t even remember if it was morning or night. My mouth tasted like I’d been chewing on pennies and my head felt like someone had hammered a tent stake right into the center of my skull.

I groaned and rolled onto my back. That’s when I saw him.

Lex.

He was sitting on the floor beside the couch, back leaned against the cushion I’d been sleeping on. His long legs were stretched out, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His head was tilted slightly to the side, lips parted just enough to see his slow, steady breaths.

He looked… peaceful.

The memories slammed into me all at once—the bar, the ride home, how close we’d been on the stairs, the way his hands felt holding me up. And then… that kiss. My cheeks burned hot enough to sear through the hangover.

He never left.

He’d stayed. Sat there all night. Probably didn’t even close his eyes until I’d passed out completely.

“Oh crap,” I whispered under my breath, heart kicking up.

I tried to slide off the couch quietly, inching toward freedom like a burglar in my own apartment. My toes brushed the carpet when my knee accidentally bumped his.

Lex stirred. His lashes fluttered, and then those sharp, ocean-blue eyes blinked open, locking right on me like he’d never been asleep at all.

I froze, half-crouched off the couch.

He yawned slowly, stretching his long arms above his head. His shirt lifted just enough for me to see a sliver of tanned skin, the hard line of his stomach flexing as he moved. He didn’t say anything at first, just rubbed the back of his neck, then pushed himself up with effortless grace.

He dropped onto the couch next to me, leaning back with a soft grunt, as though sitting beside me first thing in the morning was the most natural thing in the world.

I stared at him, pulse pounding. “You… stayed?”

He tilted his head slightly, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. Didn’t think it’d be smart to leave you passed out alone. You almost face-planted into the coffee table before I caught you.”

Heat crept up my neck. “I could’ve managed.”

“Sure,” he said, voice low and calm, a hint of amusement tugging at his mouth. “Looked like it.”

I ran a hand through my tangled hair, trying to steady my breath. The kiss sat between us, heavy and unspoken. My lips tingled just thinking about it.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “About last night—”

Lex turned his head fully toward me now, and my breath caught. His gaze was unreadable, but something simmered there beneath the surface—an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“What about last night?” he asked, voice even but quieter, like he already knew what I meant.

“Er—help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen. I’m… I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” I blurted, my voice cracking halfway through.

I didn’t wait for Lex to respond. My feet carried me faster than my brain could process, darting down the hallway toward my bedroom. I slammed the bathroom door behind me, pressing my back against it like I was holding out an invading army.

Every inch of me felt clammy and overheated at the same time. My heart was thundering against my ribs, palms damp, my stomach a twisted knot of nerves.

What the hell just happened?

I had only found out yesterday that he was Dio Leandros’ son. That should’ve been my cue to stay far, far away. But now he was in my apartment. He’d carried me up my own stairs like I weighed nothing, slept sitting upright on my carpet like some kind of knight out of a fever dream.

And… oh God…

Did I kiss him?

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to rewind the night, but it was like my memories had been scrambled by whiskey. I could feel it though—heat spreading through me, the ghost of his hands gripping me, his voice low and hoarse when he said I can’t.

Was that real? Or just something I dreamed while passing out?

I grabbed the edge of the sink, knuckles white, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a disaster, my lips looked… swollen? My breath hitched.

Shit.

I rushed into the shower, scrubbing away the smell of whiskey and sweat, letting the hot water pound against my headache until it dulled to a faint throb. My makeup washed down the drain, leaving my face bare and pink from the heat. I quickly touched up some mascara, part of me praying he’d be gone when I came out so I could crawl into bed and pretend last night never happened.

I threw on something casual under my robe and crept to my bedroom door, ear pressed to the wood.

Shuffling. Clanking.

And then—food. The smell of sizzling bacon and toasted bread wafted through the apartment. My stomach growled in betrayal.

Peeking out, I caught sight of Lex in my tiny kitchen. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his top button undone, the white dress shirt clinging to his shoulders in a way that did unfair things to my brain. He moved with practiced ease, flipping bacon, sliding eggs onto a plate—the craziest sight I’d ever seen in this cramped space.

He glanced at me briefly before turning back to the stove. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said casually. “Figured I should eat before I leave. Besides, you owe me.”

Another quick glance over his shoulder. A wink.

I tightened the belt of my robe, trying not to combust on the spot. “T-thanks… for last night,” I stammered. “You know—saving my job, dragging me home.”

Lex took a bite of toast, leaning against the counter like he owned the place. “My pleasure.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorway for balance I wasn’t sure I had. “May I ask you something?”

He shot me a jokingly wary look. “You may.”

“What were you doing in Greece?”

“Work,” he said simply, flipping another piece of bacon.

“You work for your dad too?” I pressed.

He smirked faintly. “Modeling. I just made a stop at the site for the sake of… admiration.”

“Admiration or obsession?” I countered, stepping further into the room. “Your family seems to embody the latter when it comes to artifacts connected to Alexander the Great. Is that who you’re named after?”

Lex gave me a pressed smile. “Naturally. And I’d like to think it’s admiration. I’m not licensed to diagnose obsession.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “One more thing…”

He turned, handed me a perfectly dressed plate, and I walked with him to the little dining nook by the terrace window. We settled into the mismatched chairs, sunlight slanting across the table, and I picked at the edge of my napkin.

“About last night. I—”

“Was drunk,” he finished for me, spearing a piece of bacon without missing a beat. “You’re not the first person I’ve kissed on a crazy bender.”

Something about that—how casually he said it—made my hand tighten around the fork until my knuckles whitened. I forced myself to clear my throat and focus on my food before he could see the flare of jealousy I refused to admit was there.

“So let’s not ever mention it,” I muttered.

Lex’s smirk deepened as he took another bite, his eyes flicking up to meet mine briefly. There was something in that look—amusement, curiosity, maybe even something more—but he said nothing.

And that was the strangest thing of all.

This man did not belong here, in my kitchen, in my life. He was a sore thumb in a perfect suit, out of place and impossible to ignore.

It didn’t take Lex long to finish eating. He set down his fork with a soft clink, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood abruptly.

“I’m late for my first appointment today,” he said, his voice brisk again—like the last twenty-four hours hadn’t been a fever dream. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Before I could point out that he had cooked it, he carried his plate to the sink. I listened to the sound of running water and glass tapping softly against porcelain. A moment later, his footsteps crossed the apartment, each one landing like a drumbeat in my stomach.

He reached the couch and grabbed his coat from where it hung over the armrest. My chest tightened as he slipped it on, straightening the lapels with a single sweep of his hand. Every step he took toward the door made my pulse climb higher, my body reacting with an intensity that scared me.

Why was this happening?

Why did it feel like something inside me recognized him—wanted him to stay—even though we barely knew each other?

“Lex…” I blurted, the word escaping before I could stop it.

He froze, his back still to me, one arm halfway into his coat sleeve. Slowly, he turned his head, not enough for me to see his full face, but enough that I felt his attention on me like a physical touch.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, fumbling over the words. “Sorry. I thought I had another question.”

For a moment, he stayed there, shoulders tense as if holding back something he’d never say. Then he drew a slow breath, slipped his other arm into the coat, and nodded once.

Without another word, he opened the door, stepped out, and shut it softly behind him.

The quiet that followed was suffocating. I stood frozen in my kitchen, alone again, every nerve still buzzing from him, as if his presence lingered in the air like static.