Page 45 of Devotion

Damien

My helmet clatters to the pavement, and Cole quickly retrieves it, placing it on the seat of my bike. I’ve barely tucked the keys into my pocket when I give in to what I’ve been fighting my entire ride home.

“Where the fuck is Aria?”

“She’s—I’m not sure, Sir.”

“Then find out. Now!”

“Right away, Sir.”

Cole’s steps trail behind me, following my path down every corridor, through every door while he makes calls. It takes three tries before getting a satisfactory answer to my question.

“She’s in the root cellar giving instruction to new members of the flock.”

I don’t respond, just redirect my steps toward the back door.

“Can I be of any further assistance to you, Sir?” he asks, and when I wave him off, he stops, pivots, then heads back toward the house.

Soft grass gives beneath my steps as I head toward the wooden door built into the side of a hill. I’m filled with unspent tension, and that never ends well for anyone. All because touching Layla—and not having any relief of my own—has left me feeling… unwell.

The sound of several women gasping greets me when I burst into the small space, startling them. Thick wooden planks creak beneath my feet as I duck inside, unable to stand to full height in the small space, but I’m distracted enough that I’m only slightly annoyed.

The aroma of damp earth and fresh herbs fills my nostrils as I lock eyes with Aria. She’s clearly shocked to see me, but pleased.

“Good evening, Sir,” she says, her breath quivering. “I was just giving these lovely women a lesson on rotating crops to avoid spoilage.”

I force a smile, pretending to care. “Ah, that’s very… interesting.”

The women smile back, and I’m searching for a kind way to dismiss them, but Aria beats me to it.

“Ladies, if it isn’t too much trouble, we can resume our lesson tomorrow morning.”

Without delay, they exit in silence, closing the door behind them. Aria steps closer, her cherubim face framed in red hair that glows like the fires of hell. Even in this small, dark place. Several months ago, her hair was my favorite trait of hers. But now, with its stark contrast to Layla’s dark mane, it only disappoints me.

“Was I expected in your bed tonight?” she asks. “My apologies for conducting the lesson so late. I’ve just been so busy today that I—”

“Stop. Speaking.”

Her breath falls away with the command, and a smile curves her lips. Slow, intentional steps bring her closer to me, until she’s gripped the collar of my dark shirt in her fingers. Her breasts heave beneath her dress as she pulls me to her, kissing me.

I’m at war with myself. I’ve come to her for a reason, to put out a fire that’s been lit and stoked by the object of my obsession. But on the other hand, I’ve found myself repulsed by Aria’s very existence lately. Her touch feels foreign to me, her kiss causing bile to churn in my stomach.

She’s confused when I pull away, but she smiles when I replace my tongue in her mouth with my fingers. Holding my gaze, she sucks them hungrily, savoring a flavor I’m curious whether she’ll even detect. But then recognition fills her eyes, and although she doesn’t stop, I’m aware of the exact moment she tastes the mixture of Layla’s arousal and the sweetness of her perfume on my skin.

Before she can speak or react to what she’s discovered, a gasp leaves her swollen, pink lips as I turn her from me. I press my hand against the top of her back until she bends, letting her breasts flatten against the table.

Her movement is damn-near frantic as she hikes her dress to her hips, revealing that she isn’t wearing underwear. She peers at me from over her shoulder with lust in her eyes, likely believing this is all for her. Not realizing thatnopart of me is meant for her.

Not anymore.

I reach inside my pocket, and then rip open a condom. The disappointment that spreads across her face next is damn-near tangible. She hates that I use them with her, and she’s pointed out more than once that they’re unnecessary—due to her strictly monitored birth control regimen and scheduled health checks performed by our physicians. It’s never been a matter of her cleanliness or fear of accidentally planting my seed in her womb… it’s merely the fact that I’d rather not have her wet cunt touching my dick.

A moan leaves her mouth as I push into her—rough, angry, feeling as though she’s merely a means to an end. I’m desperate to come, a reality induced by the feel of Layla’s tight pussy soaking my fingers. But Aria’s here, and she’s always a ready and willing participant, so it’s simple math for me. Fucking her tonight is merely an opportunity seized.

She pushes her ass back, locking our bodies tightly against one another, and I lift my head toward the ceiling, letting my thoughts leave this place. I’m no longer fucking an empty vessel in the root cellar, but rather, I’ve got Layla bent over the small desk against her wall. One of her black and white TV shows plays in the background, and her headset clatters to the floor when I thrust harder.

I know she wants this. Wantsme.The small box she peeks inside of when she thinks no one’s looking—the one beneath her bed, filled with mementos of my kills—is proof of that.

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