The restaurant was one of those new spots in Victoria Island—dim lights, velvet booths, waiters who spoke in hushed tones like they were selling secrets instead of overpriced jollof. Lara had chosen it because it felt safe: crowded enough to blend in, fancy enough to match the money now sitting pretty in her account. She told herself it was just dinner. Normal. A way to test what “normal” even looked like when your boyfriend was a demon who fed on your orgasms.
Kai sat across from her in a black button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the first two buttons undone like he couldn’t be bothered with pretending to be civilized. He looked too big for the booth, too dangerous for the candlelight flickering across his face. Every time he leaned forward to speak, the woman at the next table gl
