Page 13

VAEL

M y 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 swell at 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."

"It's fine, Vael. Really." Trinity sighs, suddenly looking tired. "I'm used to demons treating me like I'm nothing. It's not exactly a new experience."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I cross the porch in two strides, crowding into her space. "Is that how you think I treat you? Like you're nothing?"

"No." She doesn't back away, meeting my gaze steadily. "But you're the exception, not the rule. And even with you, I'm still just a means to an end."

Something hot and dangerous unfurls in my chest. Before I can stop myself, I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up toward mine. "Is that what you think?" My voice drops to a growl. "That you're just a convenient womb to me?"

Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers, her pupils dilating. "Isn't that the arrangement? You've been very clear about the transactional nature of this... situation."

"The situation has evolved." The admission escapes before I can contain it, surprising us both.

"Evolved how?" Her voice wavers slightly.

I should step back. I should release her and reestablish the professional distance we've maintained outside the bedroom. Instead, I find myself stroking my thumb across her cheekbone, captivated by the softness of her skin.

"I don't know," I admit roughly. "But I do know I won't tolerate anyone threatening you.

Not Domemri, not anyone. And not because of our arrangement or my honor, but because the thought of you being afraid or in danger.

.." I trail off, struggling to articulate the unfamiliar protective rage surging through me.

"Because what?" she whispers, her breath warm against my wrist.

"Because it enrages me in ways I don't fully understand." I hold her gaze, letting her see the truth of it in my eyes. "Tell me if anyone treats you with disrespect again. I don't care who it is. You deserve better than that."

Trinity's eyes widen at my confession, a flicker of something—fear?

uncertainty?—crossing her face. She steps back, breaking contact with my hands, and a cold feeling settles in my gut.

I've pushed too far, revealed too much of whatever this strange, possessive feeling is that's been growing since I first saw her.

I already knew that she was tentative around demons. I knew she didn't want someone else to use her, claim her. But here I am, crossing lines I set.

"I should..." Trinity wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking small despite her defiant posture. "I need some water."

I nod, giving her space. "Of course."

She takes three steps toward the kitchen before stopping abruptly. Her face drains of color so quickly it's alarming, and I'm at her side before I can think better of it.

"Trinity?"

"I don't feel—" She claps a hand over her mouth, her whole body tensing.

I recognize the signs instantly, sweeping her into my arms and rushing her to the bathing chamber just as she begins to heave. I set her down gently before the waste basin, gathering her long brown hair in my fist to keep it from her face as her body convulses.

"Let it out," I murmur, keeping my voice low and steady. "I've got you."

She retches painfully, her small frame shaking with the force of it. I hold her hair with one hand, my other moving in awkward circles on her back. I've never comforted someone like this before, and the unfamiliarity of it makes me feel strangely vulnerable.

When the heaving finally subsides, Trinity slumps against the basin, trembling and pale.

"Stay here," I tell her, as if she could go anywhere in this state. "I'll get a cloth."

I wet a soft cloth with cool water and return, kneeling beside her to wipe her face. Her skin is clammy beneath my touch, and there's a fragility to her I've never seen before—not even in the dungeons.

"Sorry," she whispers, voice raw. "This is... embarrassing."

"It's pregnancy," I correct her, continuing to dab at her forehead. "Nothing to apologize for."

Trinity's lips twitch in a weak attempt at a smile. "Still not the most dignified way to end an argument."

"We weren't arguing." I help her to her feet, steadying her when she sways. "We were having a discussion."

"Is that what demons call it when they loom over someone and make intense declarations?" There's a hint of her usual spark in the question, despite her pallor.

I guide her to sit on the edge of the bathing pool. "Stay. I'm going to make you some tea."

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.