Page 31

She doesn't protest, which tells me just how terrible she must be feeling. I'm back in minutes with a steaming cup of mild herbal tea—nothing too strong or sweet that might upset her stomach further.
"Small sips," I instruct, pressing the cup into her hands.
Trinity obeys, her throat working as she swallows carefully. I find myself watching the motion, cataloging every detail of her—the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the slight furrow between her brows as she concentrates.
"You don't have to stay," she murmurs after a few minutes of silence. "I'm fine now."
"Clearly."
She shoots me a look, but there's no heat behind it. "I've been taking care of myself for a long time, Vael."
"And now you don't have to." The words come out with more intensity than I intended, and I see her tense slightly. I moderate my tone. "Just... let someone help you, Trinity. It doesn't make you weak."
She studies me over the rim of her cup, those green eyes seeing too much. "Why do you care?"
It's a fair question. One I've been asking myself since the moment I saw her across Asmodeus's gathering and found myself unable to look away. I still don't have a good answer.
"Finish your tea," I say instead. "Then you should rest."
I wait while she finishes, then escort her to her room, hovering closer than necessary as if she might collapse at any moment. She doesn't protest when I pull back the covers for her, though she does raise an eyebrow when I sit in the chair beside her bed.
"You're going to watch me sleep?"
"I'm going to make sure you don't get sick again," I correct her, settling into the chair. "Just until you fall asleep."
Trinity looks like she wants to argue, but exhaustion wins out. She burrows into the blankets, her expression softening as fatigue overcomes her wariness.
"This isn't part of our arrangement," she mumbles, already half-asleep.
"Consider it an amendment."
She doesn't respond, her breathing gradually evening out as sleep claims her. I remain in the chair, watching the rise and fall of her chest, listening to each breath. My gaze traces the curve of her cheek, the way her hair spills across the pillow like dark water.
This is dangerous territory. I didn't anticipate this pull toward her—this need to be near her that goes beyond physical desire. I want her safe. I want her well. I want to wake up to her scent and her sharp tongue and those eyes that see through every defense I've built.
I want more than our arrangement allows.
The realization settles over me like a weight, uncomfortable but undeniable. My mother would call it weakness. My peers would mock me for being enchanted by a human. But sitting here in the dim light, watching Trinity sleep, I can't bring myself to care about any of that.
I'm in too deep, and I don't want to find my way back.
13
TRINITY
Ijolt awake to unfamiliar sounds coming from the kitchen. Metal against metal, cupboards opening and closing, a soft humming that definitely doesn't belong to Vael. The morning light filters through the curtains, and for a moment, I'm disoriented. My head feels stuffed with cotton, aftermath of last night's sickness.
The memory of Vael holding my hair, his large hand awkwardly patting my back, surfaces. Had he actually stayed until I fell asleep? The chair beside my bed stands empty now, but I swear I can still feel the imprint of his presence.
Another clatter from the kitchen snaps me back to the present. Someone's in the house.
I slide out of bed, ignoring the slight wooziness that accompanies the movement. No way am I facing a potential threat in my nightclothes. I pull on a simple dress, run fingers through my tangled hair, and move silently toward the doorway.
The sounds grow louder as I creep down the hall. I pause at the kitchen entrance, muscles tensed for flight, and peek around the corner.
A woman stands at the counter, her back to me. Human, not demon—that much is immediately clear from her stature and the sun-kissed skin of her exposed arms. Platinum blonde hair with shaved sides and a long braid swinging as she works. She's humming some unfamiliar tune while arranging plants and herbs I don't recognize.
My heart sinks. Did Vael findanothergirl? Has he already tired of me and my sickness, my sharp tongue? The thought shouldn't hurt—this arrangement was never meant to be exclusive beyond the breeding part—but something twists painfully in my chest.