Bonus Scene 1

Bath Time with a Beast

“You’re not going to fit.”

Kael blinks down at the bathtub, then at me. “I can make it work.”

“No, babe. That’s not optimism. That’s delusion.”

We’re in our quarters—finally upgraded, thank fuck—and staring down at what some very well-meaning but clearly size-oblivious builders thought was a “luxury bath.” It’s deep, sure. Wide even. But Kael is… Kael.

And Kael is huge.

Not just tall, not just muscular, but celestial-guardian-turned-death-sword-of-justice huge. With shoulders that could block the sun and thighs that deserve their own postcode.

He tilts his head. “If I fold my legs—”

“Oh my God, you’ll get stuck like a crab. Or worse, dislocate a hip. What’s the emergency protocol for ‘royal guard trapped in tub’?”

Kael sighs, amused. “We could try you first.”

“That’s what you said last night.”

His lips twitch. “And you didn’t complain.”

Fair.

With dramatic flair, I slide my pants off and lower myself into the water, sighing as heat wraps around me. “Mmm. See? One perfect-sized human. Happy. Uncramped. Not folded like an origami fortune-teller.”

Kael watches me for a long second, then strips. Slowly. Purposefully.

And damn it, I’m not proud of the way my brain immediately short-circuits. “Okay… you’re hot. Still doesn’t mean this bath is built for Boss-Level Glowranth.”

He steps in, one leg at a time. The water sloshes over the sides like we’re reenacting the Great Flood.

He tries to sit.

Fails.

Tries again—this time with a twist. There’s a thud as his knee smacks the side. “Ow.”

“I told you!” I squeak, both horrified and wildly entertained. “Do not break your ancient death-guard kneecaps because you want to bathe with me, you big idiot.”

He grunts. “I want to hold you.”

Okay. Rude. Now I’m melting like a chocolate in the sun. I scoot forwards, curling my legs up and patting my lap. “Fine. We’re doing this my way.”

Kael snorts. “You want me to sit on you?”

“No! You’ll break me in half. Sit behind me. Like, very awkwardly. One leg out of the tub if needed. We’ll call it… a modified bonding soak.”

He actually manages it. Sort of. His knees are halfway up the wall, one leg sticking out like he’s signalling for landing clearance, but his arms curl around my chest, and I lean back into him with a satisfied sigh.

“See? Logistics. Solved.”

“Barely,” he mutters.

“Still counts.”

He presses a kiss to my temple. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me.”

“I really do.”

The water settles. Our heartbeats sync. And for the first time in what feels like months, we just… breathe. Peace. In a glorified soup bowl. With a Glowranth limb hanging over the side.

Romance? Conquered.

Spatial awareness? Optional.

Bonus Scene 2

Terminator Trouble

“I’ll be back.”

The words come out of Solan’s fang-filled mouth in the deepest, most gravelly accent I’ve ever heard him attempt. And he pairs it with a stone-faced expression that would make actual statues jealous.

I choke on my drink. “Did you just… are you doing Arnie?”

Jack groans next to him, dropping his head into his hands. “Don’t encourage him.”

Kael, seated beside me, tilts his head like a confused golden retriever. “Who is Arnie?”

Solan perks up immediately. “The greatest warrior Earth has ever produced.”

Jack splutters. “He’s not real! Okay, the man is, but you know….” He waves his hand around in the air.

Solan ignores him entirely, eyes glowing faintly as he looks at Kael with terrifying solemnity. “He is called Schwarzenegger. I have studied his works. His physique. His one-liners. They are sacred.”

Kael looks to me, alarmed. “Is this a human king?”

I wheeze. “No! He’s an actor. From movies. He just… plays action heroes.”

Solan leans forwards. “No. He becomes them.”

Jack rolls his eyes so hard, they might escape orbit. “He kinda watched Arnie movies to learn English. Now he quotes Commando like it’s scripture. Help me.”

Kael still looks confused. “So, he isn’t real… but he battles predators?”

“Apparently,” I mutter, wiping my eyes. “But wait—Solan, how many Arnie movies have you watched?”

Solan puffs up proudly. “All of them. Twice. And the animated one. It was… confusing. But his power endured.”

Kael’s eyebrows furrow. “He fights in many different times. And places. Yet his face is the same?”

I nod. “Welcome to Earth cinema.”

Solan isn’t done. “In The Running Man, he defeats an entire death game. In Conan, he wields a great sword of destiny. And in Jingle All the Way, he… secures a doll for his young. It was very moving.”

Jack is sliding further down in his seat. “I love you, but you’re a menace.”

Solan curls a massive, clawed hand around Jack’s waist and tugs him onto his lap with all the subtlety of a boulder rolling downhill. “Say what you want. But when I flexed in the mirror this morning and said, ‘Hasta la vista, baby,’ you moaned.”

Jack turns beet red.

Kael nudges me. “Should we watch this Arnie?”

“Oh, absolutely.” I grin. “But only if you do the voice next time you save me from a beastie.”

He looks thoughtful. “If I say… ‘get to the choppa’… what does it mean?”

I howl. “We have so much to teach you.” And apparently, he’s already been having some aside conversations with Solan.

Kael leans in close, his breath warm against my neck. “Then teach me. And after, we can… practice.”

Oh. Oh.

Solan notices my expression and flashes a sharp-toothed grin. “The mating rituals of Arnie are sacred.”

Jack groans again. “I regret everything.”

Bonus Scene 3

Training… Sort Of

Kael says I need more practice.

Not because I suck—well, not in a sword fight anyway—but because, according to him, “Your stance leaves you vulnerable. Your shoulders are too tight. And you pause when you pivot left.”

Rude.

“I pause because I’m calculating,” I say, rolling my eyes and swinging the practice blade in a wide arc that would’ve made a five-year-old proud.

He catches the blade mid-swing with one hand.

One. Hand.

“I’m calculating how long I can get away with this before I distract you enough to pin you down,” I add with a smirk.

Kael’s luminescent eyes flicker. “You’re not supposed to tell me your strategy.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

We’re in a private section of the training field. No audience. Just me, him, and the low hum of our bond buzzing under my skin like an energy drink made of want.

He tosses the blade aside like it weighs nothing (show-off), then steps forwards, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. His chest brushes mine. I swear I hear my knees threaten to file a complaint.

“You should focus,” he says, low, close, voice pure temptation wrapped in thunder.

I blink up at him, oh so innocent. “I am focussed. On strategy.”

“Which strategy?”

“This one.”

I slide my hand down, grab his butt—firm, muscular, a work of art—and yank him against me. He stumbles, barely, his control slipping just enough for me to pivot and press him against the tree behind us. His back hits bark with a thud. My blade is gone, but my hands are busy.

“You’re weaponless,” he murmurs, grinning now. “Pinned me without even trying.”

“Who says I’m weaponless?” I lean in and up onto my tiptoes, nipping at his jaw. “You’ve met my mouth.”

He exhales a shaky breath.

I may be shorter, slighter, and nowhere near his level of lethal grace, but I have technique—and Kael. Which means I’m not losing this round.

His hands catch my hips. “You’re cheating.”

“Just using the tools God gave me.”

“And your arse.”

“That too.”

He flips us without effort. My back hits the tree next, his body pressing me there. I gasp, laughing.

“Still think your strategy’s working?”

I grin up at him, breathless. “Is your sword still sheathed?”

Kael groans. “We’re not getting any training done, are we?”

“Depends how you define ‘training.’”

He huffs out a laugh and leans in, kissing me like I’m the only victory he ever wants.

Spoiler: I win.