Page 39

A knock at my door interrupts my thoughts.
"Come in," I call, quickly composing my expression.
Vael steps in, tall frame filling the doorway. His red-gold eyes scan the room before settling on my face, and my traitorous pulse quickens.
"Jackie sent me to tell you breakfast is ready," he says, maintaining his position by the door, as if afraid to enter my space. "She made those pastries you liked yesterday."
I nod, forcing a smile. "Thank you. I'll be down in a moment."
He lingers, one hand still on the doorframe. "Are you feeling well this morning? No sickness?"
"Better today," I admit. "I think we're past the worst of it." My hand unconsciously drifts to my stomach, still flat beneath my nightdress. "They're being kinder to me lately."
Something flickers in his expression at the word "they." Pride, perhaps, or something deeper I can't name.
"Good." He shifts his weight, a rare display of uncertainty from the usually confident demon. "If you need anything..."
"I'll let you know," I finish for him.
When he leaves, I sink onto the edge of the bed, exasperated with myself. This wasn't supposed to happen. Sex with Vael was meant to be a means to an end—a way to secure my freedom while giving him what he wanted. I wasn't supposed to want him, to catalog the details of his expressions, to miss the feel of his hands on my skin.
I slip out of my nightdress, selecting a simple green gown from the wardrobe. As I dress, I catch sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror. My body hasn't changed much externally, but I know what's happening inside—two new lives taking shape, shifting my future in ways I never imagined.
"Get it together," I whisper to my reflection, twisting my hair into a simple knot at the nape of my neck. "This is physical. Just physical."
But as I make my way downstairs, drawn by the scent of fresh pastries and the prospect of seeing Vael across the breakfast table, I know I'm lying to myself. And that realization terrifies me more than any demon ever could.
I manage to make it through breakfast, even with Vael's eyes all over me. Even as I'm dying for him. I bite my tongue when he leaves and goes down the hall to his study.
I've been fidgety all morning, unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. Jackie notices, of course, but mercifully doesn't comment beyond a knowing smirk when I knock over a vase while pacing the sitting room.
"Maybe some fresh air would do you good," she suggests, righting the vase with practiced efficiency.
"Maybe," I agree, though I know fresh air isn't what I need.
By midday, I'm practically crawling out of my skin. The restless energy has only built, a persistent thrumming beneath my skin that makes it impossible to sit still. I find myself wandering the house, trailing my fingers along the cold stone walls, seeking something I can't name—or rather, something I refuse to name.
When I pass the kitchen and see Jackie preparing a tray with lunch, an idea forms.
"Is that for Vael?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
Jackie nods, adding a small black pitcher to the tray. "He's been holed up in his study all morning. Said he had correspondence to catch up on."
"I could take it to him," I offer, too quickly. "You've been on your feet all day."
Her ice-blue eyes flick up to me, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Have I? Hadn't noticed." She steps back from the tray with a flourish. "But if you're offering..."
I lift the tray before she can change her mind, ignoring her knowing expression. The walk to Vael's study feels both too long and too short, my heart picking up speed with every step. I pause outside his door, balancing the tray on one hip to knock.
"Enter," comes his deep voice from within.
I push the door open with my shoulder, stepping into the warmth of his study. The room smells of him—that distinctive blend of smoke and spice that clings to his skin. Vael sits behind his massive desk, quill in hand, surrounded by stacks of parchment. He looks up, surprise flickering across his face when he sees me.
"Lunch," I announce unnecessarily, moving toward him.
"I didn't expect you to be the one delivering it," he says, setting down his quill.
I place the tray on his desk, careful not to disturb his papers. "Jackie was busy," I lie, knowing full well he can probably hear the quickening of my pulse.