CHAPTER 522: EMOTIONAL EMERGENCIES

Chapter 522 – Emotional Emergencies

"I don’t know how to stop," he admitted. "I live for it. I trained for it."

"You don’t have to stop. Just... slow down."

Her hands cupped his cheeks gently, tilting his face up. His eyes, bright with restrained fire, softened.

"You’re allowed to be tired," Naomi whispered. "Even kings need sleep. Even demons need arms to fall into."

Lux pulled her closer. Not with hunger. Just need.

She curled against his chest, and he didn’t pretend to be okay.

The warmth between them was quiet, like a half-forgotten lullaby hummed in the dark. Naomi kept her arms wrapped around him, one hand moving in lazy circles at the base of his neck. It was a slow rhythm, grounding. Her heartbeat was steady. Her breath tickled the edge of his jaw. And even with everything unsaid... this felt like peace.

And then he broke the silence.

"Am I..." his voice was hoarse, too low, almost embarrassed. "Am I a burden?"

Naomi froze.

He didn’t wait for her to answer. His eyes stayed closed. "I mean... all I’ve done tonight is complain. Just dump thoughts. Drama. Shadows. I don’t like it. It’s not like me."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her expression soft but clear. "Lux..."

He still wouldn’t meet her eyes. "It’s pathetic, right? I hate this part. The part where I vent. It’s noisy. Selfish. Useless. I should be doing something, not sitting here moaning like I’m cursed."

"No," she said firmly, fingers lifting his chin. "You have the right to it."

Finally, their eyes met. Red and brown. Fire and earth.

His gaze searched hers. Quiet, conflicted. "Still... it feels wrong. Complaining. I don’t do that. I fix things. I manipulate. I move pieces. I don’t..." he trailed off, scowling at himself. "I don’t whine. It’s annoying. I don’t like it. I need to stop."

Naomi started to speak. "Lux—"

He cut her off gently. "No. I don’t want this to become a habit. That’s how it starts. One soft night. One emotional spiral. And then suddenly I’m weak. I’m not letting this become my thing. It’s a bad habit."

She stared at him, lips parting. "That’s not—"

But again, he stopped her. This time with a smirk, faint but definitely Lux.

"You know what is a good habit?" he murmured, leaning a little closer. His voice dropped to that deep, teasing tone that always sent a tingle down her spine. "Doing something while you’re here. Something that doesn’t involve stress. Like..."

A pause.

"...seducing you."

Her eyebrow twitched. "Oh?"

He hummed. "Or maybe," he whispered near her ear, "you can pamper me. You know. I am an incubus. You’ve got to keep my morale high. That’s the best way to cheer me up."

Naomi blinked. Her cheeks flushed, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "You’re unbelievable."

"And heartbroken," Lux said, placing a hand over his chest with faux drama. "And possibly traumatized."

She sighed, laughing softly. "Fine. But just because you’re cute when you act like this."

"Excellent." He stood up, gently guiding her off his lap and onto the plush couch. His mood visibly shifted, like the weight of that internal storm finally cracked open to let some light through.

He walked to the far side of the room, toward his grand wardrobe. The tall obsidian doors shimmered faintly with enchanted locks, sigils curling across them like molten ink. He waved a hand and they slid open with a quiet hiss.

Inside? A treasure hoard.

Tailored suits. Layered cloaks. A glass case of enchanted accessories. And nestled between them...

"Ah. There you are," he murmured.

Naomi leaned forward slightly, already knowing where this was going.

He pulled it out carefully, holding the hanger like it was sacred.

It was... barely a dress.

A thing of sheer black silk and crimson stitching. Thin straps. Zero coverage on the back. The chest area looked like it had been designed by a very drunk tailor with an obsession for boobs. And the lower part? Slit high enough to legally qualify as not there.

Naomi’s jaw dropped. "You keep that in your wardrobe?"

Lux grinned like a satisfied devil. "Custom order. Never used. You know, just in case of emotional emergencies."

She raised an eyebrow. "That’s your emergency outfit?"

"Only for you." He turned, holding it out with two fingers like a peace offering. "I’ll cheer up immediately if you wear this."

Naomi squinted at it. "Lux. That doesn’t even cover my hips."

"That’s the point."

She stood slowly, walking over to him with deliberate steps. The soft rug muffled her movement, but her eyes didn’t blink once.

"You’re really turning your breakdown into foreplay, huh?"

"I call it emotional adaptation," Lux replied, dead serious.

Naomi took the hanger, holding the flimsy garment up between two fingers like it might bite her. "And you want me to just... put this on?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

Her eyes narrowed. "And then?"

He tilted his head. "Then you pamper me. With your body. Possibly with your thighs. I’m open to suggestions."

Naomi laughed again, despite herself. "You’re lucky you’re hot."

"I am hot," Lux said, already turning to grab the wine glasses again. "And sad. That makes me double dangerous."

She looked at the dress one more time. Then back at him. Then? She rolled her eyes and walked toward the private bathroom, the sheer black thing swinging on her finger like a noose made of temptation.

Lux leaned back on the couch with his wine glass, licking a stray drop from his bottom lip as the door clicked shut behind her. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe too deep. Just waited. Slowly counting seconds like interest on a dangerous loan. Every tick of the clock felt like it pulled a string somewhere in his chest.

Then the door creaked open.

And Naomi stepped out.

Lux froze.

His eyes widened instantly, pupils dilating like someone hit a dimmer on the world just to spotlight her.

Holy hells.

The outfit wasn’t just sexy. It was criminal.