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Standing over her sleeping form, I'm struck by a foreign impulse to climb back in beside her, to wake with her warm bodycurled against mine. The desire is so strong it's almost physical pain to turn away.
But I do turn away, retrieving my pants from the floor and slipping out of her room like a thief.
In the hallway, I pause, resting my forehead against the cool wood of her door. This obsession will pass, I tell myself. It's merely physical attraction, heightened by compatibility and the knowledge that she carries my heir.
I return to my empty chambers, sprawling across my bed that suddenly seems too large, too cold. Sleep eludes me as I stare at the ceiling, imagining her just down the hall, wondering if she's dreaming.
This will pass, I think again. It has to.
But as dawn breaks outside my window, I'm less convinced than ever.
11
TRINITY
The waves of nausea hit like clockwork—first thing in the morning, sometimes lingering until afternoon. Today marks the third week of this unwelcome ritual, and I'm starting to accept what it means. What we've successfully created.
I curl tighter into the cushioned wicker chair on the back porch, drawing my knees to my chest. The crimson sky of Aerasak stretches above me, clouds drifting like smoke across its alien expanse. Even after a month here, I still find the view disorienting. Beautiful, but wrong somehow. A constant reminder of how far I am from everything I've ever known.
A cool breeze carries the metallic scent of Vael's strange garden—those flowers with petals like hammered copper and stems of living silver. The ones that seem to turn toward me whenever I walk past, as though watching. One more peculiarity in this demon world I'm trying to navigate.
My stomach lurches again. I breathe through it, focusing on the horizon beyond the garden where dense forest begins. Four days since Vael left on another hunt. He didn't say when he'd return—he never does—but this time, I find myself counting thehours. Pathetic, really. He's not my savior or my lover. He's just the demon who's using my body to create his heir.
Still...
When he's here, Domemri keeps her distance. When he's gone, the demon woman makes sure I understand my place.
"Still moping out here?"
Speak of the devil. Literally.
Domemri glides through the doorway, her movements liquid grace. Today she wears a flowing gown the color of bruises, her white-blonde hair interwoven with those little metal charms that chime with each step. They catch the light as she approaches, creating tiny rainbows that dance across her translucent skin. She's beautiful in that alien, predatory way that all demons seem to possess.
"I'm not moping," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "Just getting some air."
Her delicate horns—so different from Vael's massive ones—curve elegantly from her temples, spiraling forward like a crown. She tilts her head, pale violet eyes assessing me.
"Air. Of course." Her smile doesn't reach those eyes. "Nothing to do with the fact that you've been running to the bathing chamber to empty your stomach every morning?"
Heat crawls up my neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please." She flicks one hand dismissively, the gesture somehow both elegant and condescending. "I've been tending to this house for years. I know what breeding looks like."
I uncurl my legs and sit straighter, refusing to be physically smaller than I already am. "Then you know I'm fulfilling my end of the arrangement."
Domemri laughs, the sound like breaking glass. "Your 'arrangement.' How quaint." She circles my chair, trailing her fingers along the wicker. "Do you imagine you're special,human? That you've somehow captured his interest beyond your temporary usefulness?"
I keep my expression blank, a skill honed over years of enduring the whims of powerful men. "I don't imagine anything. We have a deal—I provide an heir, he provides my freedom."
"Freedom." She stops directly in front of me, blocking the view. "And where will you go, little breeder? Back to those filthy dungeons where he found you? Or perhaps you think you'll stay here, playing at being mistress of this house?"
My hands curl into fists in my lap. "My plans aren't your concern."
"Vaelrix is my concern." Something dangerous flashes in her eyes, there and gone. "I've watched over him for longer than your pitiful human lifespan. I've tended his wounds, prepared his meals, warmed his bed when needed."
Ah. There it is—the real source of her animosity. My throat tightens with unexpected jealousy, which is ridiculous. Why should I care who Vael has bedded? It's not as though we have any real connection beyond the purely physical.
"Then you should understand better than anyone that this is just business," I say quietly. "Once the child is born and I've recovered, I'll be gone."