Chapter 10

Lilith

He lay soft on my sheets when I slipped free — a damp curl of sweat at his temple, lashes sticking where he'd cried out my name too many times to count. I watched him for a breath longer than I should have — the hush of his breathing, the scent of his heat still clinging to my mouth like a promise I'd taste again before dawn fell away.

Too much, I thought, smoothing a stray strand of hair from his cheek. And yet never enough.

I let him sleep. He needed it — I'd taken him apart piece by piece, fed too deep, filled every hollow I didn't know I had. He'd wake raw, sweet, empty enough to crawl right back under my hands if I so much as crooked a finger.

Good.

I left him bare under the silk, slipped my robe back over my hips, and stepped into the hush of my private corridor. The walls breathed soft — velvet drapes, candlelight, the faint echo of the club still purring below.

But my office was quiet. Always quiet — warded deep enough no noise ever bled through, no secrets slipped out. Only the sharp scent of old books, warm oil on polished wood, the faint burn of wards pressed like gold veins into the stone floor.

He was waiting for me when I stepped in — sprawled in the chair across my desk like he owned the shadows I'd built with my teeth.

Lucien. Incubus. Older than my mortal housekeepers guessed — old enough to fear me, wise enough to know when my smile meant blood instead of velvet.

He looked up — slow grin curving sharp over his teeth. "Lilith. Always so sweet to watch you slip away from your little treats."

I didn't bother to sit yet. I traced a finger over the decanter on the sideboard instead — poured something dark and warm into a crystal glass, watching the way his pupils tracked every drop.

"Lucien." I gave him the glass without asking if he'd earned it. He always thought he had. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

He tipped the glass to his lips — mouth red, eyes glittering. "Business. Pleasure. You know how thin the line is for our kind."

He spoke of territory — a club two streets over, a mortal broker who owed him more than he could bleed out of his pretty throat. I let him talk — my mind drifting back to the soft warmth tangled in my sheets, the pulse that would greet me the second I returned to taste him again.

Lucien leaned forward — elbow braced on my desk, smile curving soft and cruel all at once. "You look… different tonight. Full." His tongue darted over the rim of the glass. "Did you find something new to drain?"

I didn't answer. Didn't need to.

But then — footsteps. Soft. Bare. The faint brush of silk over skin that shouldn't have been out here at all.

I turned — just as Kael stepped through the half-open door.

He wore nothing but one of my silk shirts — too large, slipping off one shoulder where his collarbone glowed soft in the ward lights. His hair was a tangled halo, eyes glassy from sleep, lips still pink from where he'd bitten them when he begged.

I felt Lucien's breath catch — tiny, sharp, buried under the soft chuckle he pressed behind the rim of his glass.

"Well now." Lucien's grin spread slow, wolfish. "What's this?"

Kael blinked — tail flicking shy behind his bare thigh, hands twitching at the edge of the silk as he tugged it lower like he could hide the scent that poured off him sweet and helpless.

I moved before Lucien could stand — crossing the floor to catch Kael's wrist, pulling him close enough that his warmth pressed into my side like a promise.

"Sweet boy," I murmured, tucking his hair behind his ear with a claw that scraped just enough to remind him who he belonged to. "You shouldn't be out here. I told you to rest."

He opened his mouth — small, raw, a sound half-formed on his tongue. I hushed it with my thumb, pressing it soft over his lips until his lashes fluttered low again.

"Go back to bed," I whispered — low enough that the shadows swallowed the promise hidden in it. "I'll come to you soon. You need rest."

His tail flicked — a soft tremor down his spine as he nodded. He turned — slow, reluctant, the silk shirt slipping lower down his bare back as he drifted for the door again.

But Lucien's voice stopped him.

"Lilith," he purred, grin slick with too many teeth. "You're not going to share?"

I turned — slow, sharp. "No."

Lucien's smile curled meaner — hunger glittering in the dark slip of his pupils. "Don't pout, darling. It's just a taste. I haven't touched anything that sweet in decades." His eyes flicked over Kael — the raw line of his throat, the faint bruise at his collar. "Gods, I can smell it from here. Let me borrow him. A single hour."

Kael froze in the doorway — my shirt slipping off one shoulder, eyes wide and soft, heat blooming warm enough I felt it prickle under my palm.

Lucien's tongue flicked over his teeth. "What's the harm? You never keep your toys to yourself, Lilith. You've always been generous. Why this one?"

I stepped forward — just enough for my shadow to swallow the edge of his grin. My hand drifted back, fingers brushing Kael's hip as I guided him behind me — my warmth coiled tight around his pulse like a collar.

"No." My voice was silk wrapped around steel — soft enough to cut him if he licked it too close. "He's mine. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Lucien's eyes narrowed — the grin stayed, but the silence between us cracked sharp at the edges. "Oh, Lilith. Stingy now? How… interesting."

Kael shivered behind me — his hands curled in the silk of my sleeve, breath warm against my spine. I felt him lean in, soft and helpless and so sweet I almost smiled.

"Go back inside, darling," I murmured — my hand slipping into his hair, tilting his head just enough for my lips to brush his temple. "Be good for me. I won't be long."

He obeyed — sweet, silent — the door whispering shut behind him as Lucien's laughter slid cold under my ribs.

"Well, well," Lucien breathed. "Now I have to know what makes that pretty thing worth hoarding."

My smile sharpened — silk and knives. "You'll never know."

And when I stepped closer — teeth bared behind my tongue — he finally remembered why he'd always called me Mistress, whether he meant to or not.

Lucien leaned back in my chair — all lazy charm and the cold edge of hunger buried behind his sharp grin. He twirled the empty glass in his fingers, the soft ring of crystal against his claws filling the silence I refused to let him break.

"Well," he drawled, voice all honey and poison. "I see how it is, Lilith. All these centuries of sharing your scraps — and now you hoard the sweetest bite for yourself."

I didn't smile. I watched the slow curl of his throat as he swallowed the last taste of my good wine — the only drop he'd get tonight. My claws drummed soft on the arm of the chair I hadn't sat in yet.

He flicked his eyes to the door — the one Kael had slipped through moments before, trailing heat and that soft wild scent that made even a jaded old thing like Lucien twitch in his seat. He wet his lips. "He smells… exquisite. And raw. You can't blame me for wanting a taste."

I tilted my head. Just enough that the runes under my skin hummed, the wards coiling tighter around my voice when I let the words slip free.

"I don't share what's mine, Lucien. Not this one. Not ever."

Something flickered behind his grin — an old memory, maybe, of the last thing he'd touched that belonged to me without asking first. The wineglass stilled. His tongue flicked once over a sharp canine, but he laughed it off like a man brushing frost from his collar.

"You always were the cruelest of us," he purred. "Fine. Keep your pet."

I didn't reply. I didn't need to. I only watched — still and smiling — as Lucien rose, every inch of him wrapped in borrowed silk and polite shadows that didn't fool either of us.

He tipped an invisible hat as he stepped backward toward my door. "Enjoy him, Lilith. Just don't come begging when you get bored and need someone to clean up the mess."

I stood there a moment longer — the silence heavy, the faint warmth of Kael's scent still caught in the silk sleeve he'd clutched when I sent him back to bed. Lucien's hunger clung to the air like old perfume — but it wouldn't last. I wouldn't let it.

I slipped through the hush — down the corridor, past the velvet drapes that held the world at bay. The door to my suite opened at the brush of my palm — no lock here. Not for him. Not anymore.

He was curled on the bed — my silk shirt tangled around his hips, one bare leg hooked over the coverlet like he didn't know if he meant to hide or offer himself all over again. His ears twitched when I stepped close. His eyes found mine in the low flicker of the candles — wide, soft, waiting.

He didn't ask if I'd come to feed again. He didn't need to. He knew.

I slipped out of my robe, let it slide silent to the floor. When I crawled back into the bed, his warmth found me like he'd never left at all.

Mine, I thought, tasting the edge of the word behind my teeth as I drew him into my lap — his heat, his softness, every tremor that said he was hungry for me alone.

I'd chased Lucien off. I'd chase off every shadow that thought it could taste what only I was allowed to devour.

And when I brought my nose into Kael's throat — slow, gentle, patient — I knew he'd never crave anyone else again.