1
WHAT ARE YOU?
OBLIVION
My club always responded to me before I asked it to.
Just like my throne room in the realm of Limbo, where I once sat as Hell’s high judge alongside my father. But then again, most who entered there did so to be judged so, naturally, the room would only breathe when I permitted it to do so.
However, here on this mortal plane, I had changed. Adapted, I should say. And now I found myself adapting once more, this time to having a mortal mate. A fated life that had known nothing but the freedoms of human society. Which was why, despite how she had thrown herself head-first into my world, I was still determined to ease her into the rest of it.
Although in the end, kidnapping her had proven inevitable. It had to be said, she had certainly given me the run around, keeping me on my toes in ways only a few had ever managed before. In truth, I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken such dark pleasure in a pursuit. Which was perhaps why I couldn’t even find it in myself to be annoyed when I appeared at her apartment door. And even when she ran from me in herpanic, it merely granted me the excuse to capture her in my arms.
Something that had tested my limits when it came to stopping myself from taking it further. Being in her space like that, surrounded by her scent and all that was uniquely hers… well, it had pushed at my demon like never before. In fact, had I not felt her shuddering against me, had I not sensed the way her pulse spiked in distress rather than desire, I doubted I would have stopped myself from tasting her. Her blood practically sang to me, and it continued to do so, making it increasingly difficult to restrain myself.
But that was not my only issue where she was concerned. I knew there was someone still driving this fear she carried of me. A thought that infuriated me beyond reason. Especially knowing it was someone she continued to protect. It made me fucking furious and threatened the last remnants of my Fae restraint. I had never been jealous of anything in my entire existence. I was an ancient being. Yet the mere knowledge that there was a demon connected to her, whispering poison into her ear, was enough to make me want to scorch its presence from the Earth entirely.
It was also the reason I had forced myself to leave her when we reached my bedchamber. Because, had I stayed, I would have been tempted to keep her there by other means. Tempted to pin her beneath me and extract every answer from her body rather than just her lips. A step that would have been too far, too soon.
I had, at least, taken comfort in knowing my room was reinforced with wards strong enough that not even a king of Hell could have broken them. Nor a delicious little mortal with an unsettling habit of disappearing on me. Though, even now, the question of how she had managed it the first time still lingered at the back of my mind. I had wanted to press her for answers and had tried more than once, but I knew pushing too hard wouldonly drive her further from me. Had she been anyone else, I would have extracted the truth from her that very first night.
But she was not anyone else.
She was my Siren.
And as much as I desired to know everything about her, I didn’t want her fear of me to grow any more than what was already there. So, I was taking it slowly, even for my own patience. Yet I didn’t know how much longer that restraint would last. Because the thought of another creature with its claws in her made something primal rise within me. Something that wanted to drag her over my shoulder, claim her openly, and snarl to the world that she was mine.
I released a frustrated sigh at the thought of it all. As for my club, Veneficus was in full swing by the time I took my seat. Although, the room had never needed theatrics to feel my presence, for every soul in here already knew who commanded it. The music didn’t stop, the lights didn’t flicker, and yet the atmosphere adjusted the moment I settled back against the throne. The bass lowered half a tone, conversations along the balcony softened without visible instruction, and even the air itself seemed to thicken. As though it preferred to move more slowly around where I was seated. It had always been this way. Power didn’t need to announce itself.
Vor stood precisely where he should. My staff moved with seamless efficiency. The patrons below indulged, negotiated, and performed within the invisible boundaries I permitted, each and every one of them. All were instinctively aware of the limits of my tolerance without ever having to be reminded.
Everything functioned exactly as it should.
And yet,I did not.
My fingers tapped once against the armrest before I stilled them, an unconscious tell that went unnoticed by anyone in the room. Irritation flickered through me, uncontrollable andunwelcome. I wasn’t known to fidget. Even less was I known to wait for anything. I was, however, known for my steely command. And yet tonight, each of these things made a mockery of me. For here I was, fidgeting as I waited, powerless over the one being I had no right to command.
My gaze drifted toward the entrance before I could restrain it, then shifted back across the crowd as though I had meant to observe something below. No one noticed the difference, but even if they did, no one would dare comment.
Not even Torin, had he been here, would have asked why my attention refused to focus anywhere but at the entrance. The one I knew she would soon appear through. I shouldn’t feel this restless. I had presided over wars. I had watched empires fracture at my word. I had delivered judgment without hesitation or doubt, reshaping destinies with the lift of a hand. A mortal woman entering my club should not disturb the equilibrium of my mind.
And yet she did.
So, with nothing else to do, I found my mind wandering back over the last few days. I replayed her presentation as though it were unfolding before me again. The way she stood behind that desk, attempting confidence while her fingers betrayed her, tightening faintly around the edge of the table. The subtle inhale she took before beginning, as though bracing herself against my scrutiny. The momentary tremor in her voice that she smoothed over with visible effort.
She believed I did not notice.
Yet I noticed everything.
The frogs on her screensaver had irritated me before I understood why. Lily-pads scattered across the background of her computer, small green shapes against a pond-blue backdrop. Frogs, of all creatures. The annoyance hadn’t come from seeing them but from not knowing why they were there in the firstplace. From realizing there was still so much about her I didn’t yet understand. The simplest things. Her favorite food, her favorite music, whether she liked the rain or not. Books, movies, hobbies, the things she was passionate about, all of it was an unknown at this point. Just a conversation away from being discovered, and I wanted to know it all. Every small facet. Every insignificant detail.
I needed it all!
Frogs and Lily-pads. Who knew that such a small thing could captivate me so? When I had asked her why, her answer had disarmed me in a way very few things ever had. A childhood memory of running over one with her bicycle, of weeping over something so small and inconsequential in the grand design of the world. Of feeling personally responsible for the fragile life of a creature most would dismiss without pause. Yet she had spoken of it without performance, without dramatics, as though the weight of that memory still belonged to her.
I have ended lives without blinking. And yet, when she told me that story, I could see it. I could see her as a child, stricken with guilt over a mistake no one else would have carried beyond that afternoon. I did not find it foolish. I did not find it weak.
I found it intolerably endearing.
