Chapter 17

The bed was soaked with sweat, the scent of sin heavy in the air. She lay there, body trembling—not in pleasure, but in sheer exhaustion.

Her silver hair clung to her damp skin, the sheets tangled around her legs like restraints she couldn't escape. She had stopped fighting long ago. Not because she had given in. But because resistance had become meaningless.

She had learned the hard way that Asmodeus always won.

The Demon King of Lust laid beside her, his body an unholy masterpiece—perfectly sculpted, unnaturally powerful. He didn't breathe heavily. He never did. Even after taking what he wanted from her for hours, he was as composed as ever, two hearts beating in eerie synchronization, fueling the monstrous endurance that made him inescapable.

"You were distracted again," his voice rumbled, smooth as silk, yet laced with the promise of punishment.

She didn't respond immediately. She knew better than to rush her words. Every syllable had to be calculated.

"I'm sorry, my king," she murmured, forcing herself to stroke his chest with a sensual touch. "I was lost in the pleasure you gave me."

A lie.

A necessary one.

Asmodeus studied her, his golden, slit-pupil eyes glowing in the dim light. He could tell when she was lying. But the fact that she still tried seemed to amuse him more than anger him.

"You have learned well," he chuckled.

Then, just as suddenly, his amusement faded.

"I know you can't smell it," he said, voice shifting to something darker. He inhaled deeply. "But your daughter's scent is getting stronger."

Her blood turned to ice.

She sat up slightly, clutching the sheets instinctively around her body. "What… what do you mean?"

Asmodeus's lips curled into a satisfied smile as he rose from the bed. He didn't bother covering himself—demons had no shame.

"She's close," he mused, stretching, his body casting an overwhelming shadow over her smaller frame. "Only a few more weeks in the Tehom Waters, and her fairy blood will be fully realized."

His gaze flicked to her, predatory and hungry.

"Once that happens… she will be ready."

Her stomach churned.

She had known this day was coming. For ten years, she had lied, endured, survived—all to keep his attention on her instead of Nia. She had whispered false promises, moaned fake devotion, played the role of his favourite toy just to buy more time.

But time was running out.

"You remember what you promised me, don't you?" His voice was low, threatening. "You're not having second thoughts… are you?"

She couldn't hesitate. Not even for a second.

She lowered her gaze, pressing her forehead against the sheets in submission.

"I can't wait to serve you alongside my daughter, my king," she whispered. "I will personally teach her how to worship you properly."

Disgust crawled under her skin like a thousand insects. But she didn't let it show.

Asmodeus laughed. A deep, booming laugh that echoed through the chamber.

"You truly are my favourite, woman," he smirked, striding toward the door. "You always know exactly what to say."

He didn't even bother dressing himself before stepping out into the grand halls of his palace, she knew this was his version of mercy, as strong as her physique was now that her fairy bloodline had been partially activated, she still couldn't match the demon kings stamina. The demon harem would welcome him with open arms though. They always did when he was in a good mood.

The moment the door closed, she collapsed.

Her whole body shook.

Her fingers dug into the sheets as she silently screamed into them, every ounce of rage, hatred, and despair pouring out of her in soundless agony.

Nia.

Her daughter. Her beautiful, innocent daughter.

She had to get her out.

She had to save her.

But how do you escape hell… when hell itself is watching your every move?