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I move through the darkened hallway to her suite of rooms. No point in delaying. This preoccupation with her will pass once the novelty wears off. It has to.
I knock once, then enter without waiting for a response.
Trinity sits by the window, a book open in her lap. The crimson light of Aerasak's setting sun bathes her in an otherworldly glow, turning her brown hair to liquid copper. Shewears a simple silk nightgown—one I'd had delivered for her—that drapes over her curves like water.
She looks up, those green eyes widening slightly. "You're back."
"Disappointed?" I move into the room, closing the door behind me.
She sets the book aside and rises. "Should I be?"
Since I brought her here, Trinity has become marginally more comfortable in my presence. She has less bite, not that I minded it before. But it seems to be developing into something that is only drawing me in more.
"The hunt was successful," I say, though I doubt she cares.
"I can tell." She gestures to a shallow cut on my shoulder I hadn't noticed. "You're injured."
"It's nothing."
She approaches, stopping just beyond arm's reach. "Did you help them? The other girls."
This is our routine now. Sex, but first, questions about the humans in Asmodeus's dungeons. Her loyalty to them is... unexpected. Admirable, even.
"I spoke with Asmodeus before I left. He's agreed to improve their conditions while he determines what to do with them."
Relief softens her features. "Thank you."
I close the distance between us, unable to resist any longer. My hand cups her cheek, thumb tracing the delicate curve of her jawline. "I didn't do it for thanks."
"Why did you do it, then?" she asks, her pulse quickening beneath my touch.
I don't answer. Instead, I lower my mouth to hers, claiming her lips in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly ignites into something hungry and demanding. She responds immediately, her body arching into mine, small hands sliding up my bare chest to my shoulders.
This—this is what I've been missing on the hunt. This heat, this connection that burns away all other considerations.
I lift her easily, carrying her to the bed. Her nightgown whispers across my skin as I lay her down, my larger form covering hers. She sighs as my hands explore, relearning the geography of her body.
"Vael," she breathes against my ear, and the sound of my name on her lips nearly undoes me.
What follows is a haze of pleasure, of skin against skin and breath mingling with breath. I'm relentless in my pursuit of her satisfaction, needing to hear those soft cries, to feel her tremble beneath me. I need her to want this, to want me, with the same intensity that haunts my every waking moment.
And she does. Gods help me, she does.
Afterward, I hold her against me, her head pillowed on my chest, her breathing gradually slowing to normal. This is when I should leave, return to my own chambers as I have every night. As the arrangement dictates.
"Your heartbeat is slowing," she murmurs, one slender finger tracing idle patterns on my skin.
I grunt in response, too content to form words.
"Do you have to go?" The question is quiet, hesitant.
Yes, I think. I should go.
"Soon," I say instead.
She nods against my chest, accepting. Not asking for more than I've offered. That, too, is part of our arrangement. Though most of the time, it feels like I have to keep from asking.
I wait until her breathing deepens with sleep before carefully extracting myself from her embrace. She murmurs something incoherent as I cover her with the blanket, but doesn't wake.