I woke to the soft rise and fall of Adrien's breathing, curled safely against my chest. The room was quiet. My head rested lightly on Kieran's shoulder; his steady heartbeat under my ear was a rhythm I never knew I'd crave. Adrien had finally settled, his tiny body trusting, asleep in our care.
For the first time, I allowed myself to breathe, to feel the warmth of my small, fragile family. Kieran, sitting rigidly at first, had relaxed into a quiet contentment I'd never seen. Seeing him like this—watching me cradle our son—he seemed… whole.
Kieran shifted slightly, and I stirred awake. "Everything is perfectly fine now," I whispered, reaching up to touch his hand. "Dante won't disturb us again. You made sure of that, right?"
"He's in the dungeon, Aurielle—Chains, guards, and enough concrete to bury a city. He isn't going anywhere."
But we both underestimated Dante.
I smiled, closing my eyes. "I never imagined this," I murmured. "That a one-night stand would lead to... this. Do you think it was destiny?"
Kieran shifted, his grip on my shoulder tightening just a fraction. "We've passed through too many hurdles for it to be an accident."
He sounded certain, but there was a shadow in his tone.
"You look like you're thinking about something else."
"I was just thinking," he said softly, his gaze drifting to the darkened window. "I always wanted a daughter....I had one— I never got to see her."
"We had one. What's stopping us from having another one?" A little girl with his eyes and my stubbornness. The thought was intoxicating. It was the final piece of the puzzle to make this family real.
I stood up slowly, turning to face him, my voice dropping to a seductive lure.
"Let's try, Kieran. Let's have a daughter."
Kieran's eyes darkened. I saw the hunger there, but also a flicker of something I couldn't read—guilt? Hesitation? He reached out, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "You need rest, Aurielle. It's been a long time since I've had you home."
I placed my finger over his lips, silencing him. "Shh. Adrien is asleep. And I... I've missed you."
I leaned in, my breath ghosting over his skin. "I'm tired of talking about the past. Let's go to our room."
Kieran chuckled. He stood, towering over me, and pressed a lingering peck against my forehead.
Is this love? I wondered, watching the way his hand gripped mine. Is the Devil actually in love with me?
I didn't know the answer yet, but for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid to find out.
...
"Again," I whispered.
We had just finished the second round, our bodies slick and tangled in the rumpled silk sheets. Kieran hovered above me, his muscles corded and trembling from the effort of holding his own weight, his breath hitching in his chest.
Kieran's eyes, usually so cold and calculating, were clouded with a thick, syrupy lust. "Are you sure, baby?"
"I'm sure," I said, my gaze locking onto his. "But this time... I'm on top."
Before he could protest, I used every ounce of adrenaline still buzzing in my veins to flip him over. He landed on his back, momentarily stunned by my sudden aggression.
"Where did you get that strength?" he rasped, staring up at me as if seeing a ghost.
I shrugged, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my lips. "A survivor always finds strength where others find exhaustion, Kieran. Don't underestimate a woman who has walked through fire."
I crawled over him, "I'm going to ride you," I murmured, leaning down until my breath ghosted over his ear. "But there's a catch. You aren't allowed to touch me."
"What?" Kieran's eyes widened, a flash of genuine horror crossing his face. It was almost adorable to see him so powerless. "Aurielle, that's... that's torture."
"Consider it a punishment."
I reached down, grabbing his discarded leather belt from the floor. With practiced ease, I looped it around his wrists, binding them together. He didn't fight me; he just watched with a mixture of agony and adoration.
"Fiore ... please," he begged, his voice a low, broken growl.
I ignored his pleas. I started slow, placing wet, lingering kisses across his collarbone and down his chest, tracing the scars that mapped out his violent life. Then, I slid lower.
He was already standing, a hard, pulsing testament to how much he wanted me. I took my time, my head moving in a slow, rhythmic dance as I tasted him, teasing him until he was arching off the bed, his bound hands fisted in the sheets.
"Fuck, Aurielle..." he groaned, his head tossing back against the pillows.
When I had him at the edge of losing his mind, I pulled away. I sat up, straddling him, and guided him inside me in one smooth, deep motion. The sensation was overwhelming—a bridge of heat that connected us. I began to ride him, my body finding a rhythm that was entirely my own.
Kieran's jaw was clamped shut, his veins popping in his neck as he fought the urge to break the belt and grab me. He watched my breasts bounce with every movement, his eyes dark with a hunger that was almost frightening.
He was helpless, completely undone, drowning in my dominance and his own need.
...…
They slept in each other's arms, oblivious to the fact that the walls of their fortress were already crumbling.
Miles away, in the bowels of the D'Angelo dungeons.
A hooded figure fumbled with the heavy, rusted locks, their hands trembling so violently that the key nearly slipped from their grasp.
"Hurry up," his voice was terrifyingly calm.
With a final, agonizing clink, the last iron chain hit the stone floor.
Dante D'Angelo stepped forward, the light of a single flickering bulb catching the jagged edges of his smile. He rotated his wrists, the skin raw and bloody from the shackles, but he didn't seem to feel the pain. He looked at his hands as if he were seeing a new weapon for the first time.
"About time," Dante purred. "Finally, you've done something right for once in your miserable life."
The hooded figure stepped back, their voice a frantic whisper. "I risked everything to get in here. I've betrayed the Devil himself for you. Are you going to help me or not?"
Dante turned his head slowly, his eyes glinting with a chaotic, unhinged light. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and gripped the person's throat—not to kill, but to feel the pulse of their fear.
"Help you?" Dante let out a dry, haunting chuckle. "Little bird, I move on my own accord. I do what I choose, when I choose. Did Kieran really think a few links of iron could hold a god?"