Page 22 of Lustling

And she has no idea.

I rip my eyes away from him, my molars grinding. Let him starve. Let him chase the idea of purity and ruin like a fucking idiot. We’ve seen how this ends. They always break. Every soft thing that wanders into our world ends up torn to ribbons. The question isn’tifshe’ll bleed. It’show much.

And fuck me, part of me wants to see it.

Cassiel sidles up, quiet and sharp as ever. He doesn’t say anything at first, just takes the bottle of whiskey I hand him and watches Deimos.

“He’s slipping,” Cassiel says at last, voice low.

“No shit.” I scrub a hand down my face and take the bottle back.

Cassiel doesn't look at me when he speaks again. “If she’s a succubus…”

“She’s dangerous,” I finish. The words sting. “And if she can feed him—really feed him—then what happens to us?”

Cassiel shrugs, but there’s tension beneath it. “He won’t leave us.”

I want to believe him. But the silence that follows is too long. Because he’s not sure. Because deep down, we both know Deimos might choose her over us.

And if he does… then what are we?

A sharp crack splits the air—the sound of a shift. Not physical. Not visible. But real. I feel it like a string pulled tight in my gut, a sudden snap of energy that turns the world on its axis. Deimos stiffens, his aura pulsing outward in jagged waves.

I follow his gaze.

She’s here.

The crowd parts instinctively, moving around her like animals sensing the arrival of a predator they can’t see. Her presence is quiet, but it draws. It demands. Long, dark hair shines with a copper-red glint beneath the firelight. A short skirt barely covers those fishnet covered thighs, and the sweater she wears does nothing to hide the body beneath it—soft, curved, meant to ruin men.

And she’s not alone.

She’s holding another man’s hand.

My jaw tightens.

I don’t know why it bothers me. She’s not mine. She’s his obsession. His curse. But there’s something in me that twists violently at the sight of her with someone else. Something primal. Possessive. Ugly.

I’ve never felt that before.

Cassiel exhales beside me, his voice hushed. “She’s more than just human.”

“She doesn’t even know what she is,” I mutter.

But I do.

And fuck, I want her to wake up. I want her to realize just how far from normal she is. I want her to shatter. Not gently. Not with grace. I want her to break in a way that screams.

I want her to fall into us.

Into me.

Deimos moves then, stalking forward like a shadow dragged by instinct. His voice, when it comes, is a blade.

“Keep your eyes on her,” he says. “I won’t let him claim what’s mine.”

Cassiel lifts a brow, unimpressed. “Which is?”

Deimos doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe.