Page 8

TRINITY

V ael straightens from the doorframe, his massive frame blocking most of the light from the corridor. The crimson Aerasak sky casts strange highlights across his ash-gray skin, turning the sharp planes of his face into something almost beautiful in its alienness.

"I'll leave you to wash up and rest," he says, already turning to go. "There are clothes in the wardrobe. I sent word ahead to have it stocked. We can discuss more details tomorrow."

"Wait." The word slips out before I can stop myself.

He pauses, those unsettling red-gold eyes fixing on me with a predator's focus.

My heart hammers against my ribs. This moment—right here—is what I'm good at. All my training, all my careful study of men's desires, has led me here. I know my role. I understand the transaction. It would be wrong of me not to uphold it now that he has me in his house.

I rise from the bed with practiced grace, closing the distance between us. His heat radiates against me, a physical force all its own. I slide my hand up his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Why are you leaving so soon?" I ask, modulating my voice to that perfect balance of innocent and provocative that I've spent years perfecting.

My fingers trace the edge of his collar, a whisper of contact that usually makes men shudder with anticipation. Vael remains perfectly still, those eerie vertical pupils dilating slightly as he watches me.

"I thought we could begin our... arrangement tonight," I continue, holding his gaze as I trail my hand lower, across the flat plane of his stomach toward his belt. "No time like the present, right?"

His hand catches mine with startling speed, halting my progress. Not rough, but immovable.

"Trinity." My name on his lips sounds like a warning.

I tilt my head, confusion threading through me. "Isn't this what you want? Why you brought me here?"

Vael leans down until his face is level with mine, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. My pulse skitters wildly, prey-instinct screaming danger while something else entirely pools low in my belly.

"Listen carefully," he says, his voice a deep rumble that I feel more than hear. "We have an arrangement, yes. But I'm not interested in whatever performance you're offering right now."

I blink, momentarily thrown off script. "I don't understand."

"Don't you?" His thumb traces a small circle on the inside of my wrist where he still holds me, the unexpected gentleness of the gesture making my breath catch. "I've watched you since the moment we met. The mask you wear is impressive—it fooled many others, I'm sure. But not me."

Heat flushes my cheeks, embarrassment and something like anger tangling in my chest. "This isn't a mask. It's who I am."

"No." The certainty in his voice unnerves me. "It's who you've had to be. There's a difference."

I try to pull my hand away, but he holds firm. Not hurting me, just... keeping me there, in this moment I can't seem to navigate.

"What do you want from me, then?" My voice emerges sharper than intended.

Vael's lips curve into something not quite a smile. "I want you to stop treating this like another transaction where your body is the currency." He releases my wrist finally, but doesn't step back. "I can smell your fear beneath the arousal you're forcing yourself to feel. It's... distasteful."

The bluntness of his assessment lands like a slap. I take a step back, wrapping my arms around myself.

"You don't know anything about me," I whisper.

"I know enough." His gaze slides over me, not lascivious but assessing. "I know there's attraction between us—real attraction. It's written all over you—when you're too busy being irritated or curious instead of scared of what I'll do to you."

My breath catches in my throat at his words, at the impossible accuracy of them. I don't know how to respond to this demon who sees through my carefully constructed facade like it's made of glass.

"We might be in an arrangement, but I'm not interested in having transactional sex with you," Vael continues, his voice low and certain.

"Then what do you want?" I challenge, desperate to regain some control of the situation.

He leans closer again, and this time I force myself to stand my ground despite the hammering of my heart.

"I want you to be real with me." His breath ghosts against my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

"When you're not playing at desire but actually feeling it.

I don't want your body offered as payment, Trinity.

I'll only fuck you when you're begging me for it—and meaning every word. I can breed you while you enjoy it."

The crude language paired with such intensity makes heat flood my face. No one has ever spoken to me this way—direct, demanding authenticity rather than the illusion of it.

His eyes scan over me, thoughtful and intense. Those vertical pupils dilate slightly in the dimming light, and I wonder if he can detect the way my desire is starting to flare beneath my confusion and fear—not manufactured this time, but real and unwanted and impossible to deny.

Before I can formulate a response, Vael moves with that unnatural demon speed. Suddenly my back is against the wall, his massive frame caging me in without touching me. He braces one arm above my head, leaning down until our faces are mere inches apart.

"Tell me honestly," he growls, voice rougher than before. "Do you want me to kiss you right now because of our arrangement?" His free hand hovers near my face, not quite touching. "Or because some part of you actually wants me?"

The question hangs between us, heavy with implication. I could lie—I've become so good at it, after all. But something about the way he's looking at me, like he's peeling back all my layers to the vulnerable core beneath, makes me reckless with honesty.

"I want you." The confession comes out hoarse, barely audible. "Not because of any arrangement."

Something flashes in those predatory eyes—satisfaction, hunger, something I can't name. Then his mouth crashes against mine, swallowing my gasp of surprise.

There's nothing gentle about this kiss. It's possession, pure and simple. His lips are hot, demanding, claiming mine with an intensity that steals my breath. I've been kissed countless times, but never like this—never like I'm something precious and wild that he's determined to tame.

My hands find purchase against his chest, feeling the impossible heat of him through the fabric. His tongue slides against mine, and I moan into his mouth, the sound embarrassingly needy. When his teeth graze my bottom lip, a jolt of pleasure-pain shoots straight to my core.

I'm dizzy with it, drunk on the taste and feel of him. I arch instinctively, seeking more contact, and he responds by pressing me harder against the wall, one thigh sliding between my legs.

After what feels like forever and not nearly long enough, he breaks the kiss, leaving me gasping for air. His forehead rests against mine, his breathing just as ragged as my own.

"Strip," he commands, the single word vibrating through me like a physical touch.

I blink up at him, dazed and hesitant. This is familiar territory—being commanded, being naked and vulnerable while a fully clothed man takes his pleasure. But something in the way Vael looks at me feels different from anything I've experienced before.

My fingers fumble with the fastening of my clothing, suddenly clumsy under his intense gaze. I shed each layer slowly, half-expecting him to grow impatient and take over. He doesn't. He watches with that same burning focus, tracking every inch of skin I reveal with those unsettling eyes.

When I stand naked before him, I fight the urge to cover myself. I've never been shy about my body—it's been my weapon, my currency, my only value for so long. But Vael's scrutiny makes me feel exposed in ways that have nothing to do with my lack of clothing.

I expect him to spin me around, to bend me over something and thrust into me the way most men do—efficient, impersonal, focused solely on their own pleasure.

Instead, he drops to his knees before me.

The sight of this powerful demon kneeling at my feet sends a shock of confusion through me. "What are you?—"

His hands grasp my thighs, and he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder, opening me to him. "Hold onto me," he growls, his breath hot against my most intimate place.

"I don't understand what you're—" My words cut off in a strangled cry as his mouth closes over me.

The sensation is so foreign, so unexpected, I nearly collapse. No one has ever done this to me before—put their mouth on me, tasted me like I'm some rare delicacy. His tongue flicks against that sensitive bundle of nerves, and my fingers clutch desperately at his horns to keep myself upright.

"Vael," I gasp, not even sure if I'm protesting or begging.

He growls against me, the vibration adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as his tongue explores every fold and crease of me with devastating precision.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmurs against me, the words sending another shock of pleasure through my system.

I'm trembling now, caught between the cold wall at my back and the scorching heat of his mouth. Every stroke of his tongue builds something inside me, a tension coiling tighter and tighter until I'm certain I'll shatter.

I can't breathe, can't think, can only feel as Vael's mouth works me with single-minded determination. His tongue traces maddening patterns against my sensitive flesh, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on that bundle of nerves that's turning me into a quivering mess.

"Vael," I gasp again, my fingers clutching his horns for purchase. The strange texture of them—smooth yet ridged— grounds me somehow as pleasure builds to nearly unbearable heights.