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One of his hands slides between our bodies, finding my clit with unerring accuracy. His touch is firm, circling in time with his thrusts. "That's it," he growls. "Come for me. Now."
The command, combined with the dual stimulation, sends me hurtling over the edge. Pleasure crashes through me in waves, more intense than anything I've ever experienced. My body locks around him, inner muscles clenching rhythmically as I cry out his name.
"Fuck, Trinity," Vael groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. "You feel so good. I'm going to?—"
With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside me, his body shuddering as he finds his own release. I feel the pulsing of him, the heat of his seed filling me as he collapses against me, careful even in this moment not to crush me with his weight.
And I try really hard not to, but I feel a little trickle of emotion spread through me before I crush in an iron fist. I can't get attached.
Iwon't.
9
TRINITY
Iwake to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows, the crimson Aerasak sky casting a bloody glow across the plush bedding tangled around my legs. For one disorienting moment, I can't remember where I am—not in the dungeons, not on the cold stone floor surrounded by other captive women.
My body aches in strange places. Between my legs, a pleasant soreness reminds me of what happened last night. With Vael. The demon who now owns me.
I sit up too quickly and wince, my muscles protesting after activities they haven't engaged in for quite some time—at least not like that. Never like that. It's a different kind of soreness knowing I wanted it.
The room around me is spacious and well-appointed, nothing like the cramped, filthy cells I've grown accustomed to. A wardrobe of dark wood stands against one wall, and plush rugs cover the stone floor. It's beautiful, in a severe, minimalist way that seems to fit what I've learned of demon aesthetics so far.
But it's the bed that truly startles me—wide enough for three people, with linens softer than anything I've felt since beingtaken from Protheka—even before that. I run my fingers over the fabric, marveling at its smoothness.
No one is watching me.
The thought hits suddenly, making my breath catch. For months, there has always been someone—guards, other women, demons visiting the dungeons to leer at us. Never a moment truly alone, never privacy.
I slide from the bed, my bare feet meeting cool stone, and make my way to the wardrobe Vael had mentioned. Inside hang several garments in varying dark shades—blacks, deep purples, midnight blues. Very demon, but the sizing looks approximately right for my human frame.
I select a deep violet tunic and black leggings, both made from a fabric that flows like water between my fingers. The tunic has strange silver fasteners along one side that take me a moment to figure out, but once donned, it fits surprisingly well, if a bit loose around the shoulders.
As I dress, questions tumble through my mind. What now? What is expected of me? Last night was... not what I anticipated. Not transactional, as he'd said. But what does that make me? Still a breeder? A concubine? Something else entirely?
My stomach growls, breaking through my spiraling thoughts. Food. I need food first, then I can worry about defining my new position in this demon's household.
I pad barefoot from the room, trying to remember the layout Vael had briefly shown me the previous day. The hallway outside my chamber stretches in both directions, lined with doors of various sizes and decorated with strange metal sculptures that seem to move slightly in my peripheral vision.
Following the scent of something cooking—unfamiliar but enticing—I make my way down a curved staircase and along another corridor before finding myself at the entrance to what appears to be a kitchen.
I step inside, drawn by the delicious aroma, and freeze mid-stride.
A demon woman stands at the large stone counter, her back to me as she works over some sort of cooking surface. She's tall—not as imposing as Vael, but still towering over what a human woman's height would be. Her skin is a lighter shade of gray than Vael's, almost silvery in the morning light with blue undertones, and instead of hair, a mane of what looks like spun platinum falls down her back in elaborate braids interwoven with small metal charms that clink softly as she moves.
Most startling are her horns—delicate compared to Vael's massive ones, curving up from her temples and then forward in elegant spirals that remind me of the twisted shells sometimes found on Protheka's beaches.
She turns suddenly, sensing my presence with that unnerving demon awareness, and I gasp involuntarily.
Her eyes are a pale violet, and I hate that now that I'm really taking her in, she's pretty. Like, really pretty. What I don't understand is who she is or why I'm here if Vael hasher.
I hate the feeling that starts to work its way under my skin, and I ignore it.
The demon woman's eyes sweep over me, her lips thinning into a line so tight they nearly disappear. She doesn't say anything at first, just assesses me with a gaze that feels like an icy knife sliding between my ribs.
"So," she finally says, her voice melodic despite the edge to it, "you're the human."
The way she says 'human' makes it sound like 'vermin.' I straighten my spine, refusing to cower. I've spent too many months perfecting the art of appearing unafraid when I'm terrified.