10. Calix

10

CALIX

A fter dragging the dark elf's corpse into a different realm and depositing it into the void, I return to the opulent bedchamber, just like she wanted me to. Geneva's still there, her posture tense as she continues to sit on the edge of the bed. Smart girl.

"It's done," I announce, sprawling across the bed. The silken sheets feel cool against my skin. "Our pointy-eared friend won't be bothering anyone ever again."

Geneva's eyes dart to the spot where the body had been. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

I arch an eyebrow. "What's that? I didn't quite catch it."

She clears her throat, meeting my gaze with slight annoyance. "I said thank you. For... taking care of him. I couldn't stand looking at him anymore."

"Look at this. Manners from a human. Will wonders never cease?" I smirk, enjoying the way her cheeks flush. "Though I must say, your aversion to corpses might prove problematic in our line of work."

Geneva's brow furrows. "Our line of work? I'm not?—"

"Aren't you?" I interrupt, sitting up. "You made a deal with a demon, my dear human. That puts you squarely in my world now."

She grimaces, her hand unconsciously reaching for the remaining crystals hidden in her clothes. I feel them pulsing gently underneath the lace fabric. "I don't think I'm like you," she insists.

I laugh, the sound echoing off the ornate walls. "Oh, darling. You're more like me than you realize. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

Geneva's jaw clenches, her eyes flashing with that delicious defiance that has enthralled me since the moment we met. "I'm nothing like you," she spits. "I'm just trying to survive."

"And what do you think I'm doing?" I counter, rising from the bed in one fluid motion. "Survival takes many forms, Geneva. Some more... entertaining than others."

I close the distance between us, relishing the way her breath catches as I lean in. Standing over her, I'm quick to notice how much I enjoy seeing her glance up at me with those green eyes.

"Speaking of entertainment," I purr, "how about we find a more enjoyable way to pass the time?"

Geneva lets out a shaky breath. She scoots away from me slightly, tugging the dress fabric over her legs. I chuckle slightly, returning to my spot at the center of the bed.

"Suit yourself."

I settle back against the plush pillows, watching Geneva as she fidgets with the hem of her dress. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. Finally, she breaks it.

"I still can't believe I summoned you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I arch an eyebrow. "Enlighten me. What drove you to such lengths?"

She takes a deep breath, her green eyes meeting mine. "I was left with Miss Pickett as a baby. Just... abandoned on her doorstep."

"How pathetic," I drawl, but motion for her to continue.

"Miss Pickett always said that she was doing me a favor by taking me in. She used to talk about how no one wanted me, not even my parents, so she was doing me a great kindness. But it came with a price." Her fingers clench on the fabric of her dress. "When we turn eighteen, we're sold to clear our 'debt'. A debt for simply existing."

I lean forward, intrigued despite myself. "And you thought summoning a demon was the answer?"

Geneva laughs, a hollow sound. "It was my only option. I tried so many things. Believe me, I did everything I could to get out of that situation, but…" She trails off, shaking her head. "Nothing worked."

"So you turned to the dark arts," I finish for her. "Clever girl."

She shoots me a look. "Don't mock me. You have no idea what it's like to be powerless, to have your fate decided by others."

I can't help but chuckle at that. "Oh, darling. You'd be surprised."

Geneva's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

I wave a hand dismissively. "Another story for another time. For now, let's focus on your predicament."

She nods, her posture relaxing slightly. "I know it was a long shot, summoning a demon. But I couldn't just... give up. I couldn't let them win."

"And now here you are," I muse, studying her. "Making deals with a demon."

Geneva's chin lifts defiantly. "I'd do it again."

"What happened to just… running away? That seems like the easiest option. Just take a few clothes, some food, and leave."

"…I tried that," she explains gently. "But it didn't work. And I paid the price for that."

I watch as Geneva shifts on the bed, her fingers toying with the ends of her long, dark hair. There's a moment of hesitation before she sweeps it to the side, revealing the back of her neck.

"This was my reward," she says softly. "For my disobedience."

My eyes narrow as I take in the sight. A brand, seared into her flesh like she's nothing more than an animal. The mark is crude but unmistakable—Miss Pickett's insignia, a permanent reminder of ownership.

"Fuck," I mutter, leaning closer. Without thinking, I reach out, my fingers hovering just above the scarred skin. "Can I touch it?"

Geneva nods, her shoulders tense. I trace the outline of the brand, feeling the raised edges where the skin has healed over. The touch sends a jolt through me, an unexpected surge of... I don't know. I push the feeling aside.

"Branded like a damn animal," I growl, my voice low and rough with barely contained fury. The sight of the mark on Geneva's skin makes my blood boil. "That bitch Pickett has a lot to answer for. And believe me, she will."

Geneva flinches slightly at my remark, her body tensing under my touch. She frowns deeply, tears gleaming in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "An animal, huh?" she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion.

I shrug, trying to maintain my composure despite the rage simmering beneath the surface. "It's true, isn't it? That's how they treated you. Like you were less than human."

She's quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely audible. "...I suppose." The slight defeat in her tone makes something twist painfully in my chest.

Fuck. She's eliciting sympathy out of me.

Suddenly, she lets out a big yawn, and she lays on the bed next to me. Next thing I know, she's shifting her body to rest against mine, her breaths evening out as she drifts off to sleep. I'm frozen, my muscles tensed, as her body presses against mine. What the fuck is she doing? I glance down at her, eyebrows raised, waiting for some explanation, but she's out cold.

Her dark hair spills across my chest, blending in nicely with the dark fabric of my shirt. The elaborate neckline of her dress has shifted, revealing the soft curve of her breasts. My gaze travels down, taking in the smooth expanse of her thigh where her dress has ridden up. She's a mess of contradictions—strength and vulnerability, innocence and seduction. It's fucking infuriating.

And fucking arousing.

I scoff, shaking my head. Since when do I find humans attractive? They're all the same—weak, pathetic creatures, barely worth my time. But this one... there's something different about her. Something that makes me want to trace the line of her jaw, to feel the silk of her skin beneath my fingertips.

Without thinking, I reach out, my hand hovering just above her cheek. Her skin is flushed, warm to the touch. I let my fingers drift down, brushing against the pulse point at her neck. Her heartbeat is steady, calm. She must be exhausted.

I let my hand trail lower, skimming over the swell of her breast. Her dress is a ridiculous concoction of lace and silk, designed to entice and titillate. It should look absurd on her, but it doesn't. Instead, it highlights her strength, her defiance. She's not just a plaything, a toy to be used and discarded. She's a force to be reckoned with.

And that makes her dangerous.

I pull my hand away, clenching it into a fist. What am I doing? This is a human, for fuck's sake. I don't care about humans. I use them, manipulate them, but I don't care about them.

But as I watch Geneva sleep, her breaths soft and even, I can't help but admit that maybe, just maybe, I've been wrong. About her, at least.

I shift, trying to put some space between us, but she just snuggles closer, her hand resting gently against my chest. I let out a sigh, resigning myself to my fate. It's going to be a long night.

"You better not drool on me, human," I mutter, even as my arm wraps around her, pulling her close. Her warmth seeps into me, chasing away the ever-present chill. It's not entirely unpleasant.

Not unpleasant at all.

Fuck.