Chapter 5

ASHER'S POV

But it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to feel full, to feel stretched. I moved my hand down, my fingers finding my aching core. I slipped a finger inside, my thumb finding my clit, rubbing in tight circles.

I bit my lip, trying to stifle my moans, trying to be quiet. But it was so hard to control.

Everything blurred into heat and instinct.

My control slipped further, my body moving faster than thought.

My other hand moved from my breast, tracing a path down my body, over my ribs, my stomach, until it reached my mouth. My eyes never left Draven, his image burned into my mind. I imagined him naked, his body pressed against mine, taking control of me completely.

I wanted it more than anything as my body stretched to accommodate me. It was so tight, but it felt so good. I could feel the pleasure building, could feel my body tensing, ready to explode.

Everything blurred into pressure. “Please…” I didn’t even know who I was begging anymore. “Please… stop…”

And then, just as I was about to push myself over the edge, I heard it. A knock on the door. "Lord Draven," an unfamiliar voice called out.”

I froze, my fingers still buried deep inside me, my body tensing. Oh gods, what if someone came in? What if they saw me like this? I quickly withdrew my fingers but before I could reply I heard Draven's voice.

“I’m here,” Draven’s voice said calmly. “Clean it up.”

Finally I stepped out, wrapped in the robe, my breast tightly bound beneath it. My hands pressed tight to my chest, trying so hard to hide myself, praying the moon goddess would help me.

The place looked neat, cleaner than before, like someone had already fixed the mess I made. My stomach growled again, painfully reminding me I hadn’t eaten in days. But the air between us still felt strange, like nothing had fully reset after what had happened earlier.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said quickly, my voice shaking. “I will take my leave now.”

“Have I dismissed you?” he asked, his voice cutting through me like ice.

“No… um…” I stammered, my cheeks burning.

“You look like you’re going to die if you don’t eat,” he said casually, and my mind screamed. “How did he know that?”

“Sit there,” he said, pointing to a chair at the table. “Morgan will get you food to eat.”

“Morgan?” My eyes widened.

He looked at me and asked, “Do you have any issues with Morgan?”

“No, I… I…” My voice caught in my throat, and I couldn’t finish.

“Do you stammer all the time?” he asked and somehow I felt smaller than ever.

Just then, Morgan entered, carrying a tray filled with so many delicious dishes that my stomach twisted painfully, my mouth watering even though I was still shaking.

Our eyes met for a moment, and something shifted in her expression, subtle but sharp. Maybe because Kaffe had warned me, or because of my own nerves but I felt it, the energy, that she was a woman. Did she feel it too?

She looked at me for a few seconds, studying me carefully. Then she asked softly, “Have we met before?”

I opened my mouth to answer when Draven’s voice cut in sharply. “Leave now, Morgan.”

Morgan nodded, bowing slightly and left. The first thing Draven said once she was gone was, “Morgan forgets things easily,” he said flatly, as if it meant nothing.

I blinked at him, confused, my heart still hammering. Why was he telling me this? Why was I even here in the first place? Moments ago he had yelled at me like I was a pest, and now… I was sitting at the same table, about to eat, and he acted like nothing had happened, like he was just a normal man.

“Eat,” he commanded, and I obeyed without a second thought, because one order from him was not to be disobeyed.

I took the spoon and stuffed the food into my mouth, feeling it warm and soft and delicious for the first time in days, my hunger making every bite taste like heaven. I wondered if moments like this ever lasted in a place like this or if I would ever feel a full stomach and not worry about hiding or running.

At one point he stopped me and said, “Slow down, Asher, you need space to drink.”

“Drink?” I asked, my voice high with panic. “I can’t even hold liquor. I don’t drink. How am I supposed to do this? I whispered to myself

“This is homemade,” he said, tilting the bottle. “It is tradition to drink with someone, not alone, until the bottle is empty.”

“Until what?” I asked, my stomach twisting.

“You’re too slow, Asher,” he said, frowning slightly.

“No, my lord,” I said, hurriedly, “I’m just… surprised that you would drink with me.”

“Don’t feel special,” he said, shrugging. “I can drink with anyone. Out here titles don’t matter, only survival does. We are all demon hunters. Any one of us might not come back from a mission, it might be your neighbor, your cousin, your best friend. That is why I do what I can to enjoy the little life I have while I can.”

I swallowed hard as I hesitated to ask the question I had been dying to ask since I arrived. “Why… why aren’t women allowed here or killed if they are?”

He poured more wine into my cup, ignoring my question. “Drink,” he said as his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, like he was trying to read something I was hiding.

Hours passed.

We drank. We ate. The wine made our heads heavy, the food made our stomachs warm, and the fire in the room made the cold night fade, but slowly everything blurred together, and I didn’t know how I had come to this point, how I had ended up sitting here, sharing wine with him, my hands shaking, my stomach full but my mind screaming.

The tension between us had shifted, but it hadn’t disappeared.

I looked at him and realized… he was drunk, too, his sharp eyes softening, his posture loose, his voice slower, calmer, and for a moment I saw not the terrifying Lord Draven who could crush me with a word, but a man, vulnerable and human in a way I didn’t expect.

I was tipsy, too but he had most of the wine.

And I knew in the deepest part of me, with a cold, panicked feeling in my chest, that I was a goner, because when I’m like this, nothing feels safe, nothing feels simple, and everything feels sharper, heavier, and impossible to predict.

And yet… I couldn’t stop drinking, couldn’t stop looking at him, because maybe, somehow, surviving tonight meant learning everything I could about him, about this place, before the world ended us both.

He was more drunk than I was, and when I saw his head slowly fall forward until it rested on the table, I knew this was my chance to end the night and run, because Kaffe’s warning kept ringing in my head, reminding me that kindness now did not mean safety later, and I could not let my guard down, not even for a second.

I stood up carefully, my legs unsteady.

Then I moved towards him, my heart beating fast as I placed my hands under his arms and tried to lift him, surprised by how heavy he was, how strong even in this state, and step by slow step I walked him toward the bed, my breath coming out in short gasps as my body strained to hold him up.

When I finally reached the bed and gently lowered him down, I thought I was free, I thought I could slip away quietly, disappear into the halls before anyone noticed.

But then his hand closed around my wrist.

He pulled me closer, his grip firm even in his sleep, his face turning toward mine as he murmured softly, “You smell… different,” he said, almost to himself.

My breath caught.

Then he added, his words heavy, like they carried a memory I didn’t understand, “And you smell like her.”

I was scared, fear and confusion twisting together, and in that moment I knew something about me, about my scent, about who I was, had reached him in a way I never meant to.

He held me tighter and whispered two words, soft and heavy, “Stay… please.”

That word made my chest feel warm and calm, and I did not know why, but it felt like a safe place for just a moment, and I told myself I could stay only for a little while, because he would not remember any of this when morning came, and I would be gone long before then.

His hand was still around my wrist as I slowly sat on the bed, my body stiff, my mind racing, waiting for the right time to run.

Then his hand moved from my wrist to my side.

“Lay down,” he said quietly.

And I did.

I don’t know why I obeyed, or what pulled me toward him, but in that moment my body moved before my mind could stop it, like it no longer needed permission and suddenly I was lying there, my face only inches from his.

He lifted his hand and touched my cheek gently, like he was afraid I would disappear, and then he whispered, “Hold my face… like you used to… and tell me you love me.”

My heart stopped.

This was not the plan.

This was going too far, too fast, and fear rushed through me, but before I could speak, before I could pull away, he leaned in.

His lips met mine.

They were soft, warm, and the taste of wine on his lips was sweeter than when I drank it myself, and for one short, dangerous moment, the world faded away and there was only that feeling, that closeness, that breath between us.

Then the door burst open.

Everything in me froze.

Standing there in the doorway, staring at us with wide eyes, was Morgan.