Hellfire – Princess of Hell

The hot pool at the Inferis Bathhouse felt like absolution. Water lapped against bruised ribs, heat seeping into muscles that had been introduced to obsidian repeatedly over the past two hours.

I sank deeper, letting the sulfuric steam fill my lungs.

Minaria had taken one look at us limping through the door and upgraded us to the VIP room again without asking. Either Isabella’s bloodline carried more weight than she wanted to admit, or we looked pathetic enough to warrant charity.

Probably both.

Aria groaned, stretching her arms along the pool’s edge. “Nothing like a warm bath after getting your ass kicked.”

“Agreed.” Isabella sat with perfect posture despite the bruises darkening her pale skin. Even half-dead, she couldn’t fully relax.

I closed my eyes, counted the aches. Left ribs—three distinct impact points. Right shoulder—hyperextended when Kara threw me. Tail—throbbing along the entire length where she’d caught it mid-strike and used it to swing me into Valentina.

“So.” Aria’s voice cut through the comfortable silence. “What are you actually researching?”

My eyes opened.

“Just satisfying curiosity.”

“Oh come on.” Aria shifted, water sloshing. “Don’t be mysterious. I saw the circle.”

Cold spiked through my chest despite the bath’s heat.

“Circle?”

“In the bathroom.” She waved a hand. “The glowing one. Woke me up for like two seconds before I passed out again.” Her grin widened. “Getting yourself summoned already, Miss Overachiever? Occult Law doesn’t even touch that until end of year.”

Fuck.

I kept my face neutral, cataloguing options. Deny it—but she saw it. Claim it was something else—implausible. Redirect—

“And here I thought you were just burying yourself in books.” Aria’s tail swished through the water. “But no, you’re out there snacking on wild mortals while we’re stuck playing with the tamed ones.”

Oh.

That’s what she thought.

I watched her expression—teasing, a little impressed, no suspicion beyond mild curiosity about why I hadn’t mentioned it.

Better than explaining I’d been trying to contact my current body’s original owner.

“Maybe.” I let myself smile. Slight curve, noncommittal.

Aria laughed. “I knew it!”

“It’s reckless.”

Isabella’s voice cut clean through Aria’s celebration. Her eyes fixed on me, ice-blue and evaluating.

“Reckless how?”

“You can get stuck.” She said it matter-of-fact, like stating the properties of elements in alchemy. “If you agree to an impossible request, the binding holds until the contract is fulfilled or you’re banished. That’s why students wait the full year—Professor Zellaris covers the failure cases in detail before the practical exam.”

“I’m not stupid.” The words came sharper than intended. “I won’t agree to anything like that.”

Isabella studied me. Long enough that I felt the weight of it.

Then she nodded.

Aria’s head swivelled between us. “Wait, that’s it? No moralizing? Not even saying it’s irresponsible?”

“Lily’s not you.”

“Hey!” Aria sat up straight, water cascading off her shoulders. “I’m not that irresponsible.”

Isabella just looked at her.

“Okay fine, but still—” Aria turned to me, expression shifting from playful to something more serious. “You shouldn’t do it alone.”

“I’m fine—”

“We’re friends.” She said it simply. Statement of fact, no room for argument. “Which means you don’t get to hog all the fun.”

Isabella made a soft sound. Almost agreement.

Aria’s tail wrapped around my wrist under the water. “Promise. Next time you go, we’re coming with you.”

I looked at her. Purple eyes bright, genuine concern underneath the enthusiasm. Then at Isabella, who watched with that careful expression that meant she was three steps ahead of the conversation.

They thought I was feeding. Sneaking off to hunt mortals because Bellas wasn’t enough or because I wanted the thrill of wild prey instead of tame.

The lie sat there, perfect and complete. All I had to do was wear it.

“Fine.” My voice came steady. “Next time.”

Aria beamed. Isabella’s shoulders dropped a fraction.

My tail moved on its own, coiling around Aria’s in return.

I noticed but didn’t stop it.

* * *

The walk to Isabella’s apartment took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of Aria bouncing between us like the combat class hadn’t happened, like her ribs hadn’t been cracked three hours ago.

I touched my own side. Nothing. Not even residual soreness.

“Lucky we’re not fragile like mortals, yeah?” Aria spun on her heel, walking backward to grin at us. “Imagine Bellas taking that beating. He’d be a pile of broken bones.”

The image came unbidden. Bellas’s body crumpled on obsidian, bones jutting at wrong angles. Kara’s boot coming down—

I shoved it away.

“Even with his modifications.” Aria turned forward again, tail swishing. “One good hit and you’d spend weeks nursing him back.”

“That’s why having an unmodified one is such prestige.” Isabella’s voice held no emotion. Statement of fact. “The logistics of maintaining one make it expensive.”

Bellas wasn’t unmodified. They’d rebuilt him to survive being food.

My stomach didn’t turn. I noted that it should have.

“So.” I looked at Aria. “That potion you were brewing on the side. How’d it turn out?”

Aria’s face lit up. “Ha! Not only you can get ahead, Nightstar.”

“I thought you hated studying.” Isabella raised an eyebrow.

“That’s different.” Aria pulled a small vial from her bag—pink liquid that caught the streetlight wrong, almost glowing. “Alchemy’s less about thinking and more about feeling. You just… know when the mana’s right.”

I leaned closer. The liquid moved like oil but reflected light like water.

“What is it?”

“Arousal potion.” She said it proudly. Like she’d solved dimensional travel instead of bottling horniness.

“So basically you. Just in liquid form.”

Aria stuck her tongue out at me. “Don’t underestimate the tactical advantages of arousal.”

“What advantages?”

“Well for example—” She held the vial up, examining it against the red sky. “An enemy is less likely to attack you if they can’t think of anything but sex.”

Isabella made a considering sound. “There is a point to that.”

I stared at them. “And what if they decide to satisfy that sudden urge on you?”

“Then we drain them. Duh?” Aria slipped the vial back into her bag. “Either way, problem solved.”

The logic was airtight. Horrifying, but airtight.

I didn’t sigh out loud.

Isabella’s building rose ahead, obsidian catching the eternal twilight. Six stories of wealth that screamed old money even by Hell’s standards.

Aria stopped at the entrance. “Oh right, I forgot about Bellas!”

She turned and sprinted back the way we’d come, wings flaring for balance.

I watched her disappear around a corner.

Counted to three.

Turned to find Isabella watching me.

“She wanted to include everyone.” The words came flat. Defeated.

Isabella’s lips curved. Not quite a smile.

She opened the door.

* * *

Isabella’s apartment was quiet without Aria’s constant motion. Just the two of us on the low-backed sofa, glasses of wine in hand. Brutus had delivered them with perfect silence before disappearing into his quarters.

The wine was good. Rich, dark, probably expensive. I took another sip and watched the liquid catch the light from the recessed crystals overhead.

Isabella sat at the other end of the sofa, one leg tucked beneath her, perfectly composed. Her glass rested in her hand like she’d been born holding crystal stemware.

The silence stretched.

I didn’t mind it. Quiet meant less performance, less maintaining the mask. Just existing in proximity.

“How much of your mortal life do you remember?”

I looked up. Isabella’s ice-blue eyes were steady on mine. Not judging. Assessing.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re always tense.” She tilted her head slightly. “Not in the typical way. Not nervous. Just… uncomfortable. Like you’re constantly translating.”

My fingers tightened on the glass stem.

“My mother has a friend, well more of acquaintance than friend.” Isabella continued, her voice even. Clinical. “Transformed about sixty years ago. She retained most of her mortal memories. It’s rare, but it happens. You move like she does.”

The wine suddenly tasted like ash.

I set the glass down on the obsidian coffee table. Carefully. Precisely.

“What does she move like?”

“Like someone learning to walk in someone else’s skin.” Isabella’s gaze didn’t waver. “Like every gesture requires conscious thought instead of instinct.”

The accuracy of it hit harder than I expected.

I picked up the wine again. Drank. Bought time.

“I remember almost everything.” The words came out flat. Matter-of-fact. “I didn’t tell Aria.”

Isabella’s expression didn’t change. No surprise, no pity, no disgust.

“That’s not something you should be ashamed of, you know.”

I laughed. Couldn’t help it. Short, sharp, bitter.

“Ashamed?”

“You were mortal.” She stated it like a mathematical proof. “So what? Now you’re something more. Something strong and beautiful. You’re no longer insignificant. No longer food.”

The words should have been absurd. Insulting.

Instead they hung in the air between us, undeniable in their logic.

“Every demon in Hell comes from mortal souls eventually.” Isabella leaned back, perfectly relaxed. “Natural transformation just takes centuries. You simply skipped ahead.”

I stared at her.

She meant it. Genuinely believed it.

Isabella had completely misunderstood my situation. Assumed I’d been some random human who got turned, who’d clawed my way from livestock to predator through sheer fortune.

Part of me wanted to laugh. Part of me wanted to scream.

I did neither.

Because in its twisted, infernal logic, there was merit to the point. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Adapt or die. Survival of the fittest wrapped in philosophical justification.

Except.

Except I wasn’t transformed. I was misplaced.

The real Lily was somewhere else—somewhere on Earth, wearing my face, living my life. Or failing to. Or already exposed as an imposter.

And I wasn’t staying here forever.

I couldn’t be.

Could I?

My tail curled against the sofa cushion. Unconscious movement I didn’t try to stop.

“You’re probably right.” I heard myself say it. Watched Isabella’s shoulders ease slightly, tension I hadn’t noticed draining away. “It’s just… weird. Knowing what I used to be.”

“What were you?”

The question caught me off guard.

Images flashed. Spreadsheets. CAD models. The tube station at rush hour. Daniel’s laugh over terrible pub quiz answers. Faith’s smile before everything went wrong.

“An engineer.” The word felt foreign. Like describing someone else. “Nothing special. Just… normal.”

“And now you’re extraordinary.” Isabella raised her glass. “That’s an improvement.”

She meant it as comfort. Reassurance that transformation was upgrade, not tragedy.

I lifted my glass. Clinked it against hers.

Drank to the lie.

Because the issue wasn’t shame. It wasn’t even the memories.

The issue was that I wasn’t supposed to be here at all.

And every day that passed, every friendship forged, every moment of comfort or pleasure or belonging—it made leaving harder.

Made staying feel less like imprisonment and more like choice.

Isabella smiled. Small, genuine. The kind she saved for friends.

I smiled back.

Wondered which of us I was lying to more.

* * *

Isabella refilled my glass without asking. I let her.

“Your mother,” she said. “The merchant. What does she trade in?”

The question hit like ice water.

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Because Lily’s mother—my supposed mother—was the Queen of Hell. And if Isabella had noticed the way I moved, the way I translated everything through a mortal lens…

Wouldn’t Lilith have noticed too?

She’d spent hours with me those first days. Watching. Touching. Her fingers on my face, studying me like she was cataloguing every micro-expression.

She’d called me her daughter without hesitation. Showed me genuine warmth that felt so real I’d almost believed it myself.

But Lilith was ancient. Powerful. The progenitor of an entire race.

If an academy student could clock my tells, what had the Queen of Hell seen?

My tail curled tight against my leg.

“Textiles,” I heard myself say. “High-end fabrics. She supplies a few boutiques in the merchant quarter.”

Isabella nodded like that made perfect sense.

The lie sat in my throat like broken glass.

Because if Lilith knew—if she’d known from the start—then everything was performance. The maternal concern, the careful questions about my amnesia, the gentle reassurances.

She’d been testing me.

And I’d failed to notice.

Or maybe—

The door chimed.

Isabella’s posture didn’t shift, but her gaze tracked toward the entrance. “That’ll be Aria.”

Footsteps. Multiple sets. Then Brutus’s deep voice, respectful and quiet.

“Gods, this place is gorgeous.” Aria’s voice carried through the apartment like a thrown stone. “Bellas, you seeing this? This is what happens when you’re born with an actual last name that matters.”

I set my wine down.

Aria appeared in the doorway, Bellas a step behind her. She’d changed into something short and purple that left very little to imagination. Her tail swayed in broad, lazy arcs.

“Seriously, how do you live here and still show up to our disaster of a dorm room?” Aria crossed the space and dropped onto the sofa between Isabella and me. “This is like comparing a palace to a storage closet.”

“Your room has character,” Isabella said dryly.

“Our room has Lily’s research notes covering every flat surface and a bathroom that smells like alchemical experiments.” Aria grinned at me. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

Bellas stood near the entrance, hands clasped behind his back. Waiting.

Aria leaned back, arms spread across the sofa’s backrest. “Anyway. I’ve decided you two are way too serious tonight.”

“We were having a perfectly pleasant conversation,” Isabella said.

“Exactly. Pleasant. Boring.” Aria’s grin widened. “Lucky for you, I’m here to fix that.”

She pulled a small cloth pouch from—somewhere. Her spatial storage, probably. Set it on the coffee table with a soft thunk.

“We’ve got everything ready now.”

I stared at the pouch.

Isabella reached for it, but Aria swatted her hand away.

“Nope. Tonight’s agenda is proper bonding. Over a meal.” She looked at me. “And Lily gets to relax because she’s been stress-studying herself into an early grave.”

“I don’t need—”

“You’re the target of today’s pampering,” Aria announced. “No arguments.”

Isabella’s lips curved. Just slightly.

My stomach dropped.

* * *

The wine hadn’t been poisoned.

That would’ve been simpler.

One second I was sitting between them, glass in hand, listening to Aria outline her brilliant plan for “proper bonding.” The next, her hand was on my thigh and Isabella’s fingers traced my collarbone and I’d lost track of when exactly the shift had happened.

“You’re so tense,” Aria murmured against my ear.

I wasn’t. My shoulders had dropped somewhere between the first touch and the second glass of wine. My tail curved lazily against the sofa cushion.

It was my mind scrambling to catch up.

Isabella’s thumb brushed the hollow of my throat. “We should help with that.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Aria’s hand slid higher.

My breath caught.

This was—

Strategic. A bonding exercise. Team-building for our alliance.

Except Aria’s mouth found the curve of my neck and my head tilted back on pure reflex and the rationalizations scattered like dropped coins.

I’d done this before. With them. Separately and together.

So why did my pulse spike like it was new?

Aria pulled back just enough to grin at me. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out the lollipop.

The purple, penis-shaped lollipop.

My stomach dropped.

“Remember this?” She unwrapped it with deliberate slowness. “I’ve been dying to try it.”

Isabella produced hers from—somewhere. Spatial storage, probably. Hers was darker, almost black.

“Wait.” The word came out breathless. “What are you—”

Aria popped hers into her mouth. Isabella followed a second later.

They both closed their eyes.

I should’ve looked away. Should’ve stood up, made an excuse, claimed I needed to study or bathe or literally anything that involved being somewhere else.

I didn’t move.

The transformation took maybe thirty seconds.

The fabric of their clothing shifted. Aria’s skirt tented, and Isabella’s tailored pants strained against something that definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Oh no.

Aria’s eyes opened first. She looked down at herself, then at me, and her grin turned absolutely feral.

“Holy shit. Lily, look at this.”

Isabella’s expression remained composed, but her tail curled in a tight spiral that suggested she was less calm than she appeared.

“Interesting,” Isabella said. Her voice was lower. Rougher.

My mouth had gone dry.

This was—

I didn’t want to think about what this was.

Except my body had already figured it out. Heat pooled low in my belly, and my thighs pressed together without conscious input, and some treacherous part of my brain supplied extremely specific images of what came next.

“So.” Aria shifted closer, one hand already moving to the waistband of her skirt. “Who gets what first?”

“Aria.” Isabella’s tone carried warning.

“What? We should plan this out.” Aria looked past me to Isabella. “I’m thinking I get first pick since it’s my first time having one of these.”

Isabella’s lips twitched. “That seems fair.”

They were negotiating.

While I sat between them.

While their hands hadn’t stopped moving.

Aria’s fingers traced patterns on my inner thigh that made coherent thought increasingly difficult. Isabella’s touch mapped the curve of my waist, then lower, sliding beneath the fabric of my shirt.

“We should get her ready first,” Isabella said.

“She’s already ready.” Aria’s hand pressed higher, and I bit back a sound. “Aren’t you, Lily?”

My mind screamed that I should protest. Object. Establish boundaries.

My hips tilted forward into her touch.

“See?” Aria’s breath ghosted across my jaw. “Completely ready.”

Isabella made a low sound that might’ve been agreement. Her hand cupped my breast through the thin fabric, thumb brushing across the peak until it hardened.

Bellas and Brutus stood near the wall, silent and watchful. Waiting for orders that hadn’t come yet.

Aria turned her attention to them. “Brutus, you’re with Isabella. Bellas—” She grinned. “You’re with me. We’ll switch halfway through.”

“Understood, Mistress,” Brutus said.

Bellas just nodded.

My pulse hammered in my ears.

This was happening.

They were planning it like a military operation, and I was the objective, and some part of me that still remembered being Liam wanted to laugh at the absurdity except I couldn’t because Isabella’s mouth had found the side of my neck and Aria’s hand had slipped beneath my skirt and—

I made a sound.

Not quite a moan. Not quite a whimper.

Aria pulled back just far enough to look at me. Her pupils were blown wide, and her tail lashed in sharp, excited arcs.

“You okay with this?”

The question should’ve been my exit. A clear opportunity to say no, to stop this before it went further.

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because the honest answer—the one I couldn’t say aloud—was that my body had been anticipating this from the moment I saw what those lollipops did. That every threshold I’d crossed before had made this one inevitable. That the protests echoing through my skull sounded thin and distant compared to the need building in my core.

I looked like I couldn’t wait anymore.

Aria’s grin widened. “That’s what I thought.”

She kissed me.

Deep and claiming and absolutely certain, and I kissed back because of course I did. Because my hands had already moved to grip her thighs, and then lower, fingers wrapping around the hard length that strained against her clothing.

Isabella’s hand joined mine, guiding my touch. “Like this.”

I followed her lead. Stroked. Squeezed.

Aria broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Fuck. That’s—” She laughed, breathless and delighted. “Okay. New question.”

She cupped my face, tilting it up so I met her eyes.

“I really want to know what it feels like when you use your mouth on it.” Her thumb brushed across my lower lip. “Think you can do that for me?”

My brain short-circuited.

Mouth. She wanted my—

“Lily?” Her voice softened. “Is that a yes?”

I couldn’t form words.

She smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She shifted position, moving to kneel on the sofa beside me. Her hands guided me down, and Isabella helped, supporting my weight as Aria arranged us exactly how she wanted.

No.

No, this was—

I should stop this.

Should say something.

Should—

Aria’s hand threaded through my hair, gentle but firm. Positioning me.

“Just enjoy it,” she murmured. “We’ve got you.”

* * *

I should’ve turned away.

My lips parted.

Aria’s cock slid past them, hot and hard and impossibly real, and my mouth closed around it on instinct—muscle memory I didn’t have thirty days ago taking over without permission.

“Oh fuck.” Aria’s hand tightened in my hair. “Is this—is this what incubi feel all the time?”

“Quite different, isn’t it?” Isabella’s voice came from somewhere behind me, amused and dark.

My tongue moved. Traced the underside of Aria’s length, wrapped around it, found the ridge, pressed.

Aria groaned.

“You should try it next time, Lily.” Her hips shifted forward, pushing deeper. “Having a cock is—it’s something else entirely.”

I knew what it felt like.

Liam had known what it felt like.

This was better.

The thought struck before I could stop it, immediate and certain, and I tried to rationalize—maybe demons felt things differently, maybe the translation between bodies magnified sensation, maybe—

Isabella’s hands gripped my hips.

She lifted me like I weighed nothing.

Aria’s cock left my mouth with an obscene wet sound that should’ve embarrassed me. Should’ve made me pull back, reassess, remember who I was supposed to be.

Instead I whimpered at the loss.

Isabella settled beneath me on the sofa, her body warm and solid against my back. Her cock pressed between my thighs, hard and insistent.

Before I could process what was happening, she lowered me onto it.

I gasped. Stretched. Took her inside in one smooth motion that my body executed without conscious input.

Aria’s hand cupped my jaw, turning my face toward her. She stood on the sofa cushions, knees on either side of Isabella’s legs, positioning herself.

Her cock found my lips again.

I opened for her.

Isabella started to move.

I moaned around Aria’s length, and the vibration made Aria buck forward with a strangled sound.

Brutus appeared behind Aria. His hands settled on her hips, positioning, and when he pushed into her she thrust deeper into my throat on a sharp exhale.

“Fuck,” she breathed. “That’s—that feels—”

Bellas knelt between my spread thighs. His mouth found my clit, tongue pressing firm circles while Isabella stretched me from the inside and I tried to breathe around Aria and failed.

Isabella’s lips brushed my ear.

“Isn’t this better than your old mortal self?”

I couldn’t answer.

Couldn’t think past the sensation building in every nerve, the way my body moved without instruction, the hollowness of my internal protests against the sharp reality of pleasure.

But the question sparked something. A flicker of doubt I immediately buried beneath the next thrust, the next swirl of Bellas’s tongue, the next time Aria hit the back of my throat and I didn’t gag.

I was supposed to want my old body back.

I was supposed to be fighting this.

Instead I was—

Bellas’s teeth grazed my clit.

The thought scattered.

“If you keep making those sounds,” Aria panted above me, “I don’t know how long I can—”

I moaned again.

Couldn’t stop.

Didn’t want to.

Aria’s rhythm faltered. Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling just shy of painful, and she thrust once, twice—

Heat flooded my throat.

I swallowed reflexively, braced for the foul taste, the urge to vomit, for anything except what came.

Pleasure. Warmth spreading through my chest like good wine.

Just like Isabella said. Just like Aria had told me a dozen times. I was overthinking.

But how could I not? Even drowning in sensation, my thoughts sharpened instead of blurred. The only choices were overthink or surrender completely—lose myself to this—and I couldn’t afford that. I had to get back. Had to find a way home to—

Isabella lifted me.

Sudden emptiness screamed louder than any protest my mind could manufacture.

Then she dropped me back down.

Wrong angle. Different hole. Same devastating pleasure that made my spine arch.

“Figured I’d give Bellas some space,” Isabella murmured against my neck.

Bellas rose to his knees. Positioned himself. Pushed inside my pussy.

Two cocks. Both holes. Stretching me in opposite rhythms that shouldn’t have worked except they did, perfectly, like my body was designed for exactly this.

I made a sound I’d never heard myself make before.

My hand moved without conscious thought, wrapping around Aria’s softening cock, coaxing it back to hardness, guiding it to my lips because apparently two weren’t enough anymore and when had I decided that?

Time blurred.

Positions shifted.

I lost track of who was where—Aria’s cock in my mouth while Brutus took me from behind, Isabella beneath me again but facing forward this time, Bellas replacing her, someone’s fingers in my hair and someone else’s on my clit and I didn’t care who as long as they didn’t stop.

I was a vessel.

Just a body responding to stimulus.

That should’ve horrified me.

It didn’t.

At some point—I couldn’t say when—something shifted inside me. Not in my body. Deeper than that.

Like a door I’d been holding closed finally gave way.

My hands pressed against Isabella’s shoulders. Pushed.

She went down onto her back with a startled laugh.

Aria was saying something, words that registered as sound without meaning until they resolved into: “—think we finally woke her up.”

I turned my head. Found Aria’s mouth. Kissed her hard enough to bruise, swallowing whatever else she’d been about to say.

When I pulled back, she was breathless and grinning and exactly where I wanted her.

I pushed her down beside Isabella.

My tail curled around Bellas’s wrist, guiding him to kneel at the edge of the sofa.

Brutus I positioned with a gesture, and he moved to obey without question because of course he did.

If we were doing this—if I was doing this—it would be on my terms.

The protests in the back of my mind had gone silent.

Or maybe I’d just stopped listening.

* * *

I lay between them, Isabella’s cool skin against my left side, Aria’s warmth on my right. My pulse still thundered in my ears. The apartment smelled like sex and sweat and something demonic I couldn’t identify.

Aria shifted, her hand tracing lazy circles on my stomach.

“I love that side of you.”

I blinked at the ceiling. “What side?”

“The one that just fucked us senseless.” She propped herself up on one elbow, grinning down at me. Purple eyes bright with satisfaction. “The one that took over and made us all follow her lead.”

Isabella made a low sound of agreement. “Mm. Most common succubi take decades to develop that kind of presence. Sometimes centuries.”

My tail twitched against the floor.

I should say something. Deflect. Make a joke.

Instead I just stared at the obsidian chandelier overhead and tried not to catalogue exactly how much vital essence I’d drained from Bellas and Brutus while I was—

No. Not thinking about that.

Not thinking about how I’d positioned them like chess pieces. How I’d directed the whole thing without conscious thought. How I’d known exactly what I wanted and took it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Aria laughed. Actual laughter, clear and bright. “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Her fingers walked up my ribs. Found a ticklish spot I hadn’t known existed until now.

I caught her wrist.

Held it.

Felt the pulse beneath her skin, steady and strong, and had to consciously stop my thumb from stroking the inside of her wrist because that was—that would be—

I released her.

“We should probably clean up.”

The words came out flat. Professional. Like I was suggesting we review engineering schematics instead of lying naked in a puddle of our own—

Aria’s grin widened.

“I could clean you with my tongue.”

My mind went blank.

Then filled with an extremely vivid image of exactly that. Of Aria kneeling between my legs while Isabella watched and I threaded my fingers through that short black hair and—

For one terrible second, I actually considered it.

Worse: I considered returning the favor.

I sat up too fast. My head spun briefly before the room stabilized.

“Bath,” I said. “I’d prefer a bath.”

Isabella rose in one fluid motion, utterly unbothered by her nudity or the state we were all in. She extended a hand.

I took it.

Let her pull me to my feet.

Tried not to notice how natural that felt. How right.

Aria bounced up on her own, somehow still energetic despite the past three hours. Her tail swayed behind her, tip flicking in that way that meant she was amused.

“Your loss,” she said. “I give excellent tongue baths.”

I didn’t doubt it.

That was the problem.

I followed them toward the bathroom, acutely aware of Bellas and Brutus still recovering on the floor behind us. Of how much I’d taken from them. Of how good it had felt to drain that essence while I used their bodies for my pleasure.

Of how I’d stopped pretending halfway through that I was doing anything other than exactly what I wanted.

The bathroom door opened.

Steam from the enchanted heating vents already clouded the mirror.

Aria stepped into the massive tub first, sighing as the water—always perfectly heated—rose to her waist. Isabella followed with her usual grace.

They both looked at me.

Waiting.

I stepped in.

Let the heat soak into muscles I’d used in ways Liam’s body never could have managed. Ways I was becoming frighteningly good at.

Aria immediately pressed against my side again. Her head found my shoulder like it belonged there.

Isabella claimed my other side with less obvious affection but equal certainty.

I should pull away.

Maintain distance.

Remember this was temporary.

My arms went around both of them instead.