Page 10

TRINITY

I wake to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows, the crimson Aerasak sky casting a bloody glow across the plush bedding tangled around my legs. For one disorienting moment, I can't remember where I am—not in the dungeons, not on the cold stone floor surrounded by other captive women.

My body aches in strange places. Between my legs, a pleasant soreness reminds me of what happened last night. With Vael. The demon who now owns me.

I sit up too quickly and wince, my muscles protesting after activities they haven't engaged in for quite some time—at least not like that. Never like that. It's a different kind of soreness knowing I wanted it.

The room around me is spacious and well-appointed, nothing like the cramped, filthy cells I've grown accustomed to.

A wardrobe of dark wood stands against one wall, and plush rugs cover the stone floor.

It's beautiful, in a severe, minimalist way that seems to fit what I've learned of demon aesthetics so far.

But it's the bed that truly startles me—wide enough for three people, with linens softer than anything I've felt since being taken from Protheka—even before that. I run my fingers over the fabric, marveling at its smoothness.

No one is watching me.

The thought hits suddenly, making my breath catch. For months, there has always been someone—guards, other women, demons visiting the dungeons to leer at us. Never a moment truly alone, never privacy.

I slide from the bed, my bare feet meeting cool stone, and make my way to the wardrobe Vael had mentioned. Inside hang several garments in varying dark shades—blacks, deep purples, midnight blues. Very demon, but the sizing looks approximately right for my human frame.

I select a deep violet tunic and black leggings, both made from a fabric that flows like water between my fingers. The tunic has strange silver fasteners along one side that take me a moment to figure out, but once donned, it fits surprisingly well, if a bit loose around the shoulders.

As I dress, questions tumble through my mind. What now? What is expected of me? Last night was... not what I anticipated. Not transactional, as he'd said. But what does that make me? Still a breeder? A concubine? Something else entirely?

My stomach growls, breaking through my spiraling thoughts. Food. I need food first, then I can worry about defining my new position in this demon's household.

I pad barefoot from the room, trying to remember the layout Vael had briefly shown me the previous day. The hallway outside my chamber stretches in both directions, lined with doors of various sizes and decorated with strange metal sculptures that seem to move slightly in my peripheral vision.

Following the scent of something cooking—unfamiliar but enticing—I make my way down a curved staircase and along another corridor before finding myself at the entrance to what appears to be a kitchen.

I step inside, drawn by the delicious aroma, and freeze mid-stride.

A demon woman stands at the large stone counter, her back to me as she works over some sort of cooking surface.

She's tall—not as imposing as Vael, but still towering over what a human woman's height would be.

Her skin is a lighter shade of gray than Vael's, almost silvery in the morning light with blue undertones, and instead of hair, a mane of what looks like spun platinum falls down her back in elaborate braids interwoven with small metal charms that clink softly as she moves.

Most startling are her horns—delicate compared to Vael's massive ones, curving up from her temples and then forward in elegant spirals that remind me of the twisted shells sometimes found on Protheka's beaches.

She turns suddenly, sensing my presence with that unnerving demon awareness, and I gasp involuntarily.

Her eyes are a pale violet, and I hate that now that I'm really taking her in, she's pretty. Like, really pretty. What I don't understand is who she is or why I'm here if Vael has her .

I hate the feeling that starts to work its way under my skin, and I ignore it.

The demon woman's eyes sweep over me, her lips thinning into a line so tight they nearly disappear. She doesn't say anything at first, just assesses me with a gaze that feels like an icy knife sliding between my ribs.

"So," she finally says, her voice melodic despite the edge to it, "you're the human."

The way she says 'human' makes it sound like 'vermin.' I straighten my spine, refusing to cower. I've spent too many months perfecting the art of appearing unafraid when I'm terrified.

"I am," I reply, matching her coolness. "And you are...?"

She turns back to whatever she's cooking—something that smells like roasted meat and unfamiliar spices.

"Domemri. I manage this household." She stirs something in a large pot. "Have for many seasons."

Before I can respond, heavy footsteps approach from behind me. My pulse quickens even before I turn, recognizing the cadence of Vael's stride.

He fills the doorway, dressed in dark leathers that hug his muscular frame. His gaze flicks between Domemri and me, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

"You've met," he observes, voice neutral. He doesn't reach for me or acknowledge what happened between us the night before. Why would he? What did I expect—for him to sweep me into his arms in front of his... servant? Friend? Something else?

"Vaelrix," Domemri practically purrs, her entire demeanor shifting. She straightens, shoulders back, the movement emphasizing the elegant curve of her neck. "I've prepared gormash with dreelk. Your favorite."

I shift uncomfortably, feeling like an outsider watching a familiar ritual. She knows his favorite foods. Of course she does.

Vael grunts in acknowledgment, his attention shifting to me. "Hungry?"

"Yes," I reply, then belatedly add, "Thank you."

The three of us settle at a table carved from what appears to be a single massive slab of ebony stone.

Domemri serves Vael first, placing a steaming bowl before him with a flourish that brings her close enough that her arm brushes his shoulder.

He doesn't react, but she lingers a moment longer than necessary.

She serves me last, the bowl landing with a dull thunk that nearly sloshes the contents over the rim.

The meal passes in uncomfortable silence.

The food—chunks of meat in a savory broth with unfamiliar vegetables—is delicious, but I barely taste it, too aware of the simmering tension.

Domemri watches Vael with naked longing while pretending I don't exist. Vael eats with single-minded focus, offering no conversation.

When he finishes, he rises abruptly. "I have matters to attend to. I'll return later."

I set down my spoon and follow him from the kitchen, feeling Domemri's glare burning into my back.

Once we're in a corridor far from the kitchen, I touch his arm. "Wait."

He stops, turning to face me. His expression is unreadable, red-gold eyes narrowed slightly.

"Who is she?" I ask, hating the uncertain quaver in my voice. "Really."

"I told you. She?—"

"You told me someone would cook and clean," I interrupt, then immediately regret my boldness. But Vael doesn't strike me or even snap at me. He simply watches, waiting for me to continue.

I take a breath. "You didn't say it would be another female demon who looks at you like she wants to devour you."

A flicker of something—amusement?—crosses his face. "Jealous, little human?"

"No," I lie. "Confused. If you have her, why did you choose me from the dungeons?"

Vael leans against the cool stone wall, crossing his arms. "Domemri works for me. She cleans, she cooks. That's all."

"That's not how she sees it."

"What Domemri sees isn't my concern."

I press my lips together, uncertain why this bothers me so much. I'm property, not a partner. What do I care if Vael beds every demon female in Aerasak?

Yet something in my chest twists at the thought.

"She looks at you like she owns you," I murmur.

Vael's laugh is sharp and sudden. "No one owns me."

I raise my eyebrows. "So you've never...?"

"I didn't say that." He pushes off from the wall, stepping closer until he looms over me. "But she doesn't own me. And she knows it. And you were the one I was buried deep inside last night." His finger traces the line of my jaw. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

It doesn't, but I nod anyway, fighting the urge to lean into his touch. I have no claim on him, and I need to remember that. No matter what happened last night.

It'll happen many more times, and I cannot afford for my heart to get wrapped up in this. He asked for real, but I can't let it get too real.