He gave a low whistle. “Satan’s Biscuits! You’re going to ask for her. If she says yes, you’d better mean it. That kind of bond doesn’t break.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “That’s the point.”
Kevin’s grin faltered. “You’re not just into her. Youfeelsomething.”
“Yeah.” I stood, pulling on the regulation shirt. “That’s the problem. How do you know if you’re in love?”
Kevin shot me a horrified look, which made me laugh.
He clamped his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s go get your Juliet.”
We filed into the corridor, the air thick with anxiety. My number was called over the speaker. “Subject 37, report to Station Six.”
When I reached the row of chambers, the attendant at the console glanced up. “Preference?” she asked flatly.
My mouth was dry, but I managed, “Ivy.”
The woman’s eyebrows lifted. “Bold choice.” She jotted something down and pressed a button. “Request submitted. We’ll see if she accepts.”
I stood there in the hum of machinery, pulse thudding like a countdown clock.
If she did say yes, I’d have one chance. One impossible, irreversible moment to show her what she already meant to me.
And if she didn’t—well, then maybe that would be my real trial.
Somewhere down the hall, I thought I heard her voice through an open intercom—soft, clear, and alive.
My resolve locked into place.
If this was the last thing I did in Hell, I wanted her to be the one to see me.
She didn’t sweepin like Lucy. She walked in like she’d been trying to avoid being seen and failed, chin up anyway. Her hair was pulled into a messy knot that made me want to be the man who undid it. The scars where wings had caught the light in thin, pale crescents along her shoulder blades—beautiful. Her eyes flicked to the glass, found me, and stuck. I felt it in the base of my spine.
My cock, unhelpful bastard that it was, surged like it had opinions about who its mistress truly was.
Agnus noticed Ivy and softened by an almost measurable percentage. “Demoness Ivy, do you agree to collect the specimen for subject thirty-seven?”
Ivy nodded. “I do.”
Agnus took some notes and then turned to me. “Okay, I have you down with Ivy for the automatic collection.”
“I’d like to,” I heard myself say, voice steady when the rest of me was not. “I’d like… manual.”
Ivy’s face whitened, then flared red.
Agnus made a note. “Max chooses the manual. Collection required.”
The door hissed open. My feet carried me before my brain could talk me out of it. Ivy turned to face me.
She looked terrified.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered.
She shook her head imperviously. “I want to.”
Then louder she said, “Max, do you consent to me using my mouth and hand to milk you to completion while your sample is collected?”
My chest was a drum. “Yes. Please.”
