Page 14

TRINITY

I jolt 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 find another girl? 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.

I must make some sound, because she turns, ice-blue eyes landing on me. Instead of surprise or guilt, her face breaks into a wide, genuine smile.

"There you are! I was wondering when you'd wake up." She wipes her hands on a cloth tucked into her waistband. "You look like shit, no offense."

I blink, taken aback by her bluntness. "I... what?"

"Sorry, that's just my way." She gestures to the kitchen table. "Sit before you fall over. You're greener than dreelk leaves."

I remain frozen in the doorway. "Who are you?"

"Oh! Right." She laughs, the sound bright and uncomplicated. "I'm Jackie. Your new cook and cleaner, courtesy of your brooding demon." She extends a hand. "And apparently your pregnancy assistant, from what I hear."

I don't take her hand, processing her words. "Vael hired you?"

"Sure did. Showed up at my door at dawn, looking all serious and important." She drops her hand without offense. "Said he needed someone who understood human pregnancies and wouldn't try to poison you." She winks. "I've got excellent references on both counts."

Relief floods through me, followed immediately by confusion. Why would Vael go to such trouble?

"You look like you could use this." Jackie turns back to the counter, pouring steaming liquid into a mug. The scent reaches me—ginger and something else, mild but aromatic. "Special blend for pregnancy nausea. Helped three women through their first trimesters with this stuff."

I approach cautiously, accepting the mug. "Thank you." I take a small sip, surprised by the pleasant, gentle flavor. "It's good."

"Course it is. I don't make shit things." She resumes chopping herbs. "Your demon mentioned you had a rough night. Morning sickness hitting early, huh?"

"My demon," I mutter, settling into a chair. "He's not my anything."

Jackie shoots me a knowing look but doesn't comment. "First pregnancy's always the worst. Your body's like, 'what the fuck is happening' and just rebels against everything."

Despite myself, I smile. There's something refreshing about her directness.

"So, Vael hired you just for... cooking and cleaning?" I try to keep my tone casual.

"And to keep an eye on you when he's away hunting." She shrugs. "He was very specific about making sure you eat properly and don't strain yourself."

A strange warmth spreads through my chest. I quickly tamp it down. This is practical, not personal. Vael is protecting his investment.

"I don't need a babysitter," I say, even as I take another sip of the surprisingly effective tea.

"Good, because I'm not one." Jackie tosses ingredients into a bowl with practiced efficiency. "I'm just here to make sure you don't keel over from eating the wrong things or cleaning too much. Pregnant humans have different needs than demons, and that man clearly has no idea what to do with you."

The way she says it—matter-of-fact and without judgment—makes me relax slightly. But a new feeling surfaces, a prickle of something uncomfortable as I watch her move confidently through Vael's kitchen.

Envy.

How easily she occupies this space, how naturally she speaks of Vael. How many others has she helped? How many other women has Vael brought into his home?

The questions swirl in my mind, irrational but persistent. I grip my mug tighter.

"Been working for demon households long?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"Most of my life." Jackie cracks something that looks like an egg but with a blue shell into the bowl. "Good money, if you can handle the attitudes. Better than the alternatives for humans here."

I open my mouth to ask more when heavy footsteps approach from the hallway. My pulse quickens before I can control it.

Vael appears in the doorway, his imposing frame filling the space. His red-gold eyes sweep the kitchen before landing on me. Something in his expression shifts.

"You're awake." His deep voice disturbs the air between us. "How are you feeling?"

Jackie glances between us with barely concealed interest. I swallow, suddenly aware of how I must look—hair unbrushed, face likely still pale from sickness, caught off guard in his kitchen with another woman.

"I'm fine," I manage, lifting my chin. "I see you've been busy."

Vael's gaze sharpens as he approaches me, those red-gold eyes studying my face with unsettling intensity. He moves with the fluid grace of a predator, even in the domesticity of his own kitchen, dark hair tousled as if he's been running his fingers through it.

"Are you still feeling nauseous?" His voice drops lower, almost private despite Jackie's presence just feet away.

I nod, clutching the mug between my palms. "A little. The tea helps."

My eyes dart to Jackie, who's busying herself with breakfast preparations but clearly listening to every word. The ease with which she moves through Vael's space still bothers me in ways I can't rationalize. She belongs here more than I do, clearly.

Vael follows my gaze, something flickering across his features. "Jackie," he says without looking away from me, "would you give us a moment?"

"Sure thing, boss." She wipes her hands again, amusement playing at her lips. "I'll go check the pantry supplies anyway. You're running low on zynthra, and the pregnant lady needs her vegetables."

As Jackie disappears into the adjoining pantry, Vael takes a step closer. A smirk slowly spreads across his face, transforming his severe features into something unfairly handsome.

"You know," he says, voice pitched low enough that only I can hear, "Jackie has a wife."

I blink, processing his words. "What?"

"A wife. Her name is Donna. Half-nymph, completely devoted to Jackie." His smirk deepens as understanding dawns on my face. "But I needed someone to take care of the house, and I thought it might be easier for you to have another human woman around. One who doesn't pose any... complications."

Heat rushes to my cheeks. I stare into my mug, mortified that he's read my jealousy so easily.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter.

Vael leans down, one hand braced on the table beside me. I catch his scent—something like smoke and spices, uniquely him. "Don't you?"

I force myself to meet his gaze, determined not to let him see how flustered I feel. "Why would I care who works for you?"

"I didn't say you cared." His voice drops another octave. "But the look on your face when I walked in... very interesting."

"I was surprised to find a stranger in the kitchen," I counter, lifting my chin. "Nothing more."

"Of course." His mouth quirks up at one corner. "My mistake."

The amusement in his eyes makes something flip in my stomach that has nothing to do with morning sickness. I hate how easily he sees through me, especially when I've spent years perfecting the art of concealing my true feelings.

"Well," I say, struggling to regain my composure, "thank you for thinking about my comfort. It was... considerate."

"I can be considerate when it serves a purpose." He straightens, still looking too pleased with himself. "A human who understands your needs seemed practical."

Practical. Of course. Everything about this arrangement is practical for him.

I shouldn't feel touched that he went out at dawn to find someone to help me through this pregnancy.

I shouldn't care that he chose a woman with a wife to spare my nonexistent feelings.

I shouldn't feel anything beyond the physical when we're together.

But I do, and that terrifies me more than any demon ever could.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I ask, unable to keep the accusation from my voice. "Making me uncomfortable."

"Immensely." He doesn't even try to deny it. "I've never seen you flustered before. It's... refreshing."

I roll my eyes, but something warm unfurls in my chest. This banter feels dangerous, too close to something real.

"I wasn't jealous," I insist, one last feeble attempt.

Vael just raises an eyebrow, silent challenge in his expression. Then he turns toward the pantry. "Jackie, you can come back now. Stop pretending you're counting spice jars."

Jackie emerges with a sheepish grin. "Not my fault you two are more entertaining than inventory."

I groan, burying my face in my hands as Vael chuckles, a deep rumble that I feel more than hear.

This is just sex, I remind myself. Just a transaction. These feelings—this warmth, this jealousy, this delight in our exchanges—they're nothing but hormones and proximity.

So why does it feel like so much more?