"Then I want something."
I raised a brow. "Do tell."
"I want the convent's secret exposed," she said without hesitation. "The human trafficking. The girls they sell. The ones who never make it out. The ones who make it to worse circumstances…"
I could hear the unsaid 'like me' hidden in her words.
"I want the world to know about the human trafficking ring they've been running." She finished after a gulp.
That stopped me dead.
I stared at her, unsure of what to say to her. I had thought she'd demand things like her freedom or getting back at her stepfather. I didn't imagine she'd be this selfless, as sassy as she was, putting the other girls before herself.
Her voice cracked, but her stern gaze didn't waver. "I was one of the lucky ones. I got bought. It's obvious I'm in a mess, but at least I have my life. The others… they weren't. Some of them are children. Locked in dark rooms. Taken in the middle of the night. I want justice. I want them burned."
For the first time in a long time, someone provoked a reaction that wasn't anger or disgust in me. Something that felt uncomfortably like… respect.
I couldn't stop the slow and wicked grin stretching on my face. "Consider it done."
She gasped loudly, stunned. "Wait—are you serious?"
"Deadly."
"You'd do that?" Her face lit with something I'd never seen before.
You know when you see hope in someone else's expression? Not just the usual kind but wild, bright, and insane hope. That was it.
"You swear? You promise?"
"I'll raze that damn convent to ash," I vowed. "I'll tear its stones apart with my claws if I have to."
She grabbed my arm, and I, Caligo Knox Sterling, flinched at the contact, like she wasn't just an ordinary human who shouldn't even rouse a hair on my body. I stared down at her hand like it was some holy object.
"You mean it?" she asked again, eyes huge.
Oh, sweet, sweet, selfless Rose. I think you'll make a good mother. But I wasn't done playing with you.
I nodded. "But there's a condition."
Her grip loosened. Oh, yeah.
I leaned closer, brushing a curl behind her ear. "You give me a child first."
Her body throbbed with sensation.
"You carry my heir," I continued softly, "and I'll give you blood, fire, justice… whatever you want."
She swallowed hard. "You're a bastard."
"Yes, maybe. But this bastard is going to be the Father of your kids, so we better get down to business."
And with that, I peeled the dress off completely, and for a moment, I stood there like a fool.
Holy. Hell.
It was like the earth smashed open and served me divinity on a silver platter.
I wasn't expecting this. I don't know what I expected. Bones? Bruises? A frail virgin shivering in shame?
No. She was a goddess, bare and blazing. I should have known from those full breasts of hers.
Her skin was the kind of smooth that made silk look like sandpaper. Her body wasn't dainty; no, she was curvy and thick in all the right places, like she was built for power, for motherhood, for sin. Hips made to cradle life. Breasts too full for innocence. A waist I could span with my hands, and thighs that looked like they could crush male egos.
My eyes… they devoured her. That was the only word for it. Devoured.
She didn't move to cover herself either. She didn't shriek or run for the corner. She was just standing there in the dying light filtering through the window, back straight, chin up, heart racing like a runaway horse. I could hear it, that rapid drumming under her ribcage.
She was trying so hard to act unaffected, but I saw it. I saw the pink creeping up her chest, blooming on her cheeks. That minute tremble in her thighs. The way her lips slit when she caught me looking at the curve of her waist.
God. Damn.
This wasn't just virginity wrapped in white cotton. This wasn't some pure little convent flower.
This was fire dressed in flesh. A woman with a furnace buried beneath all that false meekness. And that furnace was roaring.
"You have," I said slowly, reverently, like I was praying, "the perfect body. Do you know that?"
She wrinkled her face, startled by my tone. And my tone wasn't one of mockery or control. It was just… awefilled.
"You know, flattering me won't give you my consent." She jutted out her hips.
"I'm not, love. Your curves—fuck, you were made to ruin men."
She tried to scoff, but her blush betrayed her. My gaze dropped to her stomach, her hips, her full thighs, and stayed staring with all the hunger of a wolf who hadn't eaten in weeks.
"You realize our kids are going to have unfairly good genes, right? Like... Olympic champions with cheekbones." I muttered almost absentmindedly.
That got me a reaction.
Her eyebrows jumped up so fast they nearly hit the ceiling. "Excuse me?" she snapped, eyes narrowing like little blades.
But her arms were still at her sides. Still uncovered. Still letting me look.
I chuckled. "Just speaking the truth, sweetheart. With a body like that and my… well, everything—we're going to create a whole new race of terrifyingly attractive monsters."
"Okay, that's enough," she barked, stepping back.
Her order would have worked if I were one who takes orders. I wasn't.
"Genetics, sweetheart. It's not every day I find a womb with premium packaging."
She gasped. "You did not just call me a womb."
"You're right," I corrected myself solemnly, stopping in front of her again. "You're a shrine and I plan to worship every inch of you."
Her eyes narrowed like daggers. "If you say another word, I swear I'll stab you with the leg of that chair."
I grinned, revealing my white dentition. "Wouldn't be the first time a woman wanted to murder me for staring too long."
Usually, they threw themselves at me like starving people at an 'all you can eat' buffet.
I took a drooling step forward like I was in a cathedral and she was the altar.
Oh, baby, she IS the altar.