CHAPTER 152: WHAT DID YOU DO?

Ariston

The sheets beneath me were surprisingly soft. Warm, too—maybe a little too warm, like the room was steeped in a low, indulgent heat meant to coax muscles into melting. I stared at the floor through the hole in the massage bed, silent except for the occasional quiet knock of footsteps beyond the curtain.

This was my idea.

I let out a breath, eyes narrowing at the floor. This was all my stupid, ridiculous idea.

Out of jealousy.

God, I couldn’t believe myself. One move from Vesper, and suddenly I was booking the most absurd, decadent massage appointment in the entire capital. Just to prove I didn’t care. Just to... what? Compete?

Vesper and Drakkar weren’t even doing anything intimate, she was just very frank with them. Like a close friend

Pathetic.

I shifted slightly, the crinkle of the paper under me reminding me how exposed I was. At least I still had my underwear on. Small mercies. No one would see... well, that.

No one would know.

I rubbed my face against the pillow and let out a soft groan of shame.

What was wrong with me?

I’d spent so long telling myself I was over Drakkar. That I’d moved on. That I left for a reason. I had tired to convince myself I hated him—resented the way he’d fought beside me so easily, how he made everything look effortless, how he could be charming even in blood and fire.

But I never really let go.

Not truly.

Deep down, I know. I know how useless this all is.

I closed my eyes and let the silence press in around me. It was quiet in here, too quiet. And the moment I wasn’t distracted by noise or action, the thoughts came creeping back.

Maybe... maybe I’d been lying to myself this whole time.

I said I came to the demon kingdom for the Princess.

But

Maybe I came to the demon kingdom to see him. Even though I was the one who walked off that battlefield. Even though I never looked back. I was the one who left in the quiet of the night even though Drakkar said he didn’t want to lose contact with me even though the war was over.

I told myself I left for a reason. That there was no way a demon and a human could be together.

That it was ridiculous. That a demon prince would want a weird human like me who didn’t even have a defining gender.

But maybe the reason was fear. Fear of what he made me feel. Of how real it all was.

I clenched my hands into fists beneath the table.

Because every time I push him away, every time I tell myself I don’t need him—I just end up wanting to run into his arms. Every time I try to sever whatever’s left between us, some part of me wants to curl up against him instead. Wants him to chase me, even when I’m halfway out the door.

Stupid.

Stupid heart.

Why does he still have that hold on me? Why is he still here even though I push him away like this? Are all demons like this?

And why, despite everything... does part of me hope he never lets go?

What am I going to do with myself? I’m torturing myself with this... and I’m dragging Drakkar along too. I know I’m giving him pain too

...

I have to come to a firm decision

But...

The soft creak of the door opening made every muscle in my body tense.

Footsteps padded softly across the polished floor. I didn’t look. I didn’t move. My arms lay stiff at my sides, breath shallow.

The person stopped by the oil trolley and I heard him open up some oil and pour it on his hands.

Then I felt it—fingers, smooth and firm, pressing gently at my shoulders, moving with practiced ease.

WOAH! This was a new sensation.

The incubi didn’t speak.

Good. I didn’t want to explain myself.

I laid there awkwardly, body still wound tight. But then... the pressure shifted. Slow, steady strokes worked down my back, easing into the knots in my shoulders, kneading away the tension in my spine like melting candlewax.

My God...

I didn’t want to admit it.

But it felt... good.

Unreasonably good.

I blinked up at the ceiling, trying to stay angry at myself—trying to stay tense—but my body was already betraying me. Muscles loosened. My thoughts blurred. My breath evened out.

The warmth of the room, the incense, the rhythmic motion of those hands—it all blended together.

And the next thing I knew... darkness pulled me under.

Just like that, I fell asleep.

.

.

.

Warmth prickled through my limbs.

Pleasure—light and buzzing—crawled under my skin like heat from the sun, except it wasn’t the sun. It was something else. Too deep. Too... wrong.

??

My eyes flew open.

I bolted upright, heart pounding, my breath shaky as I tried to make sense of what the hell was happening to my body. Instinctively, I closed my legs tight as I felt the tingly sensation there

That’s when I saw him.

Drakkar.

He was sitting at the edge of the massage bed, arms crossed, smirking like he’d just caught me stealing royal jewels. His golden eyes flicked lazily over my stunned expression.

"Finally up?" he drawled.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in confusion

"What else?" He showed me his hands, "I came to give a massage and apparently I have a talent for it," He smirked as my mouth hung open, "Because you fell asleep."

"You!" I pointed at him, "My masseuse was you!?"

His eyes dropped to my body, "Yep," He said and my cheeks flared up, the sensation in my body increasing.

My hand darted for the nearest sheet, yanking it around myself like a shield. "What did you do to me?" I snapped, glaring at him. "Why does my body feel like—like this?"

Drakkar raised a brow. "Feel like what?" he asked innocently, but there was amusement dancing on his face.

"You know exactly what I mean," I muttered, still reeling from the heat surging through my chest and belly. "It’s hot—and tingly. What did you do?"

"I didn’t do anything," He folded his arms, "You’ve known me long enough to know I don’t mess with anyone like that."

"It has to be you!" I blamed him, "Why else do I feel so hot!?"

He scoffed, the sound utterly unimpressed. "It’s a special pheromone therapy, Ariston. It was in the damn brochure."

I blinked. "What?"

Drakkar rolled his eyes and leaned toward the side table, grabbing a slick, oil-stained services menu. He flipped it open with a clawed finger and jabbed at the page with exaggerated precision.

"Right here," he said, his fingernail tapping the small line of text under the most basic package. ’Includes complimentary pheromone therapy.’

I stared at it.

"No," I muttered. "No one said anything about that. This was the most basic tier!"

"Basic in a sin den still means demon-basic

," Drakkar said flatly. "Why the hell would you come to a place like this if you didn’t know how your body might react?"

"I’m mostly human," I snapped defensively.

He leaned back and crossed his arms again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Mostly," he repeated. "Except humans don’t go into heat."

My stomach dropped. "I’m not in heat," I muttered quickly, too quickly. "This is just... a reaction. An allergic reaction. Or the oils."

Drakkar gave me a dry, pointed look. "You’re flushed. Your pulse is going wild. You’ve got the scent of someone who’s half a step from dragging me into the nearest corner."

I scowled and looked away. "There shouldn’t be anything sexual in a basic package."

"There usually isn’t," Drakkar said with a shrug. "Unless the client doesn’t know their own biology."

!!!

He was mocking me and I had no retreat.

Shit

I had no idea my body could react like this to pheromone therapy. I mean, how would I know? I’ve just recently started living here

I wrapped the sheet tighter around me and tried to will the heat away from my face. I couldn’t believe this. I’d booked this damn session out of jealousy—trying to get under his skin—and now here I was, unraveling like a fool while he was perfectly composed.

Perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

I always seem to land myself in trouble, especially when it comes to drakkar.

I stood up too fast, nearly stumbling as the blood rushed to my head—and elsewhere. The sheet fell away, forgotten, and I grabbed my clothes from the nearby bench with clumsy hands.

"I’m leaving," I muttered, not meeting his gaze.

Behind me, Drakkar didn’t move. He just sat there, quiet and unreadable. Watching.

"You can try," he said finally, voice low and calm, "but I can smell you."

I froze halfway through pulling on my shirt.

"If you walk out of this room with that scent," he continued, "everyone in the palace will know you’re not just a normal human."

My hands paused, clenched in the fabric.

Shit!

He’s right

I hated that he was right. I hated even more that he sounded amused.

Scowling, I shoved the rest of my clothes on, jerking the hem of my shirt down over my hips and refusing to look at him.

"I’ll leave through the window," I said quickly. "No one will see me. No one will ’smell’ me."

Drakkar gave a soft chuckle. "Is that what you really want?"

I whirled around, glaring at him. For a moment I paused when I saw his wide open legs. Then I looked at his face, "I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself."

He stood now, slow and composed, like a beast that didn’t need to pounce because he already knew the rabbit was trapped. His golden eyes glinted.

"Oh really?" He stepped closer, "Can you satisfy yourself alone?" he asked, voice dipping low, dangerous. "Your body is used to mine, Ariston. It’ll crave what it knows." He looked into my eyes, stepping closer and I stepped back, but I hit the wall gently, but my eyes didn’t leave him

"So?" he asked again, his hands tied behind his back, "Do you really think you can satisfy yourself alone?"