Something flickers across his face—so quickly I almost miss it. Uncertainty? Regret? I can't be sure, but it's gone in an instant, replaced by that impassive mask he wears so well.
Domemri's lips press into a thin line. "Very well." She straightens, gathering her dignity around her like a cloak. "I'll collect my belongings."
She glides past Vael, giving him a wide berth, but pauses at the doorway to look back at me. "His interest is temporary, human. Remember that when you find yourself discarded." With that parting shot, she disappears into the house.
Vael watches her go, his broad shoulders still rigid with tension. When he finally turns to me, his expression is unreadable.
"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice rough.
I nod, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I must look, curled in this chair with my arms wrapped around myself. I force myself to straighten, to meet his gaze.
"I'm fine." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "Thank you for... intervening."
His nostrils flare slightly as he studies me. "She won't trouble you again."
I stare up at him, this demon who has just defended me against one of his own. I don't understand him—his motives, his actions, sometimes even his words. But in this moment, I'm achingly grateful for his return.
12
VAEL
My blood boils beneath my skin even as I hear Domemri leave. Her scent lingers in the air—that metallic tang mixed with something I've always found too sweet, cloying. It suddenly repulses me in ways I can't articulate. The image of her looming over Trinity, threat heavy in her voice, replays in my mind. I'd heard enough from the moment I approached the house. More than enough.
The only thing that is keeping me in place is studying Trinity. I notice how small she looks in that chair, even as she straightens her spine and lifts her chin. Defiant, always defiant, even when scared. It's one of the things that first drew me to her—that stubborn pride that mirrors my own.
"How long has she been treating you like that?" I demand, the words coming out harsher than intended.
Trinity's green eyes widen slightly. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me." I cross the distance between us in two strides, towering over her. "How long?"
She shrugs one shoulder, a casual dismissal that only fuels my anger. "Since you left. Before that she just kept her distance."
"And you didn't think to tell me when I returned?"
"Tell you what?" Trinity uncurls her legs and stands, refusing to be physically dominated despite the considerable height difference between us. "That your housekeeper doesn't like me? That she made some vague threats? I've handled worse."
The casual way she says it—as though threats to her safety are an expected part of existence—makes something twist painfully in my chest.
"That's not the point." I rake a hand through my hair, dislodging more of it from the leather tie. "You're under my protection. That means you report threats, no matter how 'vague' you consider them."
Trinity laughs, the sound hollow and bitter. "Protection? Is that what you call this arrangement?" She gestures between us. "I'm here to breed for you, Vael. I'm not your ward or your responsibility beyond making sure I stay healthy enough to deliver your child."
Her words should sit perfectly fine with me. After all, she's only stating the terms we agreed upon. But somehow, hearing her reduce our arrangement to such clinical terms makes my jaw clench.
"While you carry my heir, your safety is absolutely my responsibility." I step closer, close enough to catch the scent of her—honey and something earthy, a human smell I've grown inexplicably addicted to. "But this goes beyond our arrangement. Domemri threatened someone under my roof. That reflects poorly on me and dishonors my household."
Trinity tilts her head, studying me with those perceptive green eyes. "Is that really what's bothering you? Your honor?"
"What else would it be?" I snap, but the question hits uncomfortably close to something I've been avoiding examining too closely.
"I don't know." She crosses her arms over her chest, a defensive posture that draws my attention to the slight swellat her abdomen—barely noticeable to anyone who hasn't spent hours memorizing the contours of her body. "But you seemed... personally offended. Not just professionally."
I turn away, stalking to the edge of the porch where I can look out at my gardens rather than into her too-observant eyes. "I don't like being disobeyed. Domemri knows the rules of my household. She chose to ignore them."
"The rules being what? Be nice to the human breeder?"
The bitterness in her tone makes me turn back. "The rules being respect for anyone under this roof. She knew that. She chose to threaten you anyway."