Chapter 1092: Wanna Join Us?

Chapter 1092 – Wanna Join Us?

"You took too long with her," Lullaby purred, her voice a low, melodic hum. "I thought my turn would never come."

He chuckled, a low, resonant sound that vibrated through Lullaby’s body. "You just got your turn. Besides, patience is a virtue, Lulla."

"I’m Sloth," she countered, rolling her hips in a slow, torturous circle. "Virtues are optional." She leaned down further, her long hair brushing against his chest as she captured his lips in a slow, deep kiss.

Lux felt it.

A stare.

There were many kinds of attention in his mansion.

This one was different.

A gaze touched the side of his face like a claw that had not decided whether to scratch or retreat.

Lux did not break the kiss.

Lullaby’s mouth was soft and demanding against his, her body draped over him with lazy confidence, her hands braced on his chest. Gula lay nearby, flushed and dazed, still trying to collect herself from too much heat, too much feeling, too much Lux.

But his eyes shifted.

Toward the door.

There, hidden behind the narrow crack, stood Runa.

Not in cat form.

Lux’s shirt hung from her body. Oversized. Black. Too large at the shoulders, slipping just enough to reveal one pale collarbone and the fragile line of her throat. The hem reached low enough to preserve dignity but high enough to make her look like dignity had been forced into emergency negotiations.

Her golden hair was still messy, loose around her face in waves. Cat ears twitched above her head, betraying every emotion her face tried to murder. Her tail curled behind her, tense and stiff at first, then flicking once when her eyes lowered too far and snapped back up.

She looked cute. Like a war mage had been stuffed into an oversized shirt after losing a duel against curiosity.

Runa should not have been there.

She knew it. That was why her face looked like a scandal was happening to her personally.

Her eyes had found him before anything else.

Lux Vaelthorn was impossible to ignore in that room. Even tangled in sheets, even marked with desire and heat, even half-lost beneath Lullaby’s sleepy claim, he looked like desire had chosen a king and given him no permission to be modest.

His hair was damp and dark against his forehead. His lips were parted beneath Lullaby’s kiss, swollen from too much hunger, still curved faintly as if even pleasure had to negotiate with his arrogance. His throat moved when he breathed. His chest rose beneath Lullaby’s palms, hard muscle shifting with every slow exhale, the kind of body built by demonic blood, discipline, battle, and a complete lack of fairness.

Runa’s gaze traveled despite herself.

From his face.

To his neck.

To his shoulders, broad enough to make the shirt she wore feel suddenly more intimate, because this was his cloth, his scent, his size wrapped around her smaller frame. The sleeves swallowed her wrists. The collar carried the faint darkness of him. She had stolen a layer of him and only realized how dangerous that was when she saw the original.

Her eyes lowered further.

His chest was exposed beneath the ruined order of the bed. Lean muscle. The lines of his abdomen tightened when Lullaby moved over him. There was a V-shape that drew the eye downward with cruel inevitability.

Runa stopped breathing.

No.

Absolutely not.

Her gaze snapped up so fast her ears twitched.

She was not looking.

She was inspecting.

A sorcerer inspected threats.

Lux was a threat.

Therefore, looking at his body was threat assessment.

Perfectly reasonable.

Unfortunately, her eyes did not agree with her reasoning and tried to fall again.

Down along the hard plane of his stomach to his shaft, that thick and hard shaft.

Runa’s face turned red.

No, no, no!

She was not a pervert.

Lux was the pervert.

He was the incubus.

He was the one releasing pheromones strong enough to turn corridors into velvet traps. He was the one whose scent seeped into the air, dark and sweet and shameless, curling into Runa’s lungs even from the doorway.

He was the problem!

Not her.

Never her.

Her fingers tightened on the doorframe.

The room smelled overwhelming.

It was not the stench of tavern lust or cheap brothel perfume. It was warm, rich, intimate. Like honeyed wine, smoke, clean skin, and something primal enough to make her cat instincts flatten low and shiver. Lux’s pheromones did not command. They invited. They brushed against thought and whispered that wanting was not shameful.

Runa hated that whisper.

Wanted to burn it.

Wanted to hear it again.

Lullaby shifted against him, her pale hair falling around Lux’s face. She kissed him like sleep had become hungry. Slow, deep, possessive in a lazy way that made Runa’s stomach twist. Lullaby was not embarrassed. Not hesitant. Not afraid of his body, his heat, his power, his attention.

She treated him like comfort and danger belonged together.

His hand moved over Lullaby’s waist with control that looked effortless but was not. His fingers spread against her skin, possessive but careful. His body answered her, yes, but his eyes remained sharp, watching, measuring, choosing restraint even when restraint looked thin enough to tear.

Then his gaze met Runa’s.

Directly.

Runa froze.

Her ears stood straight up.

Lux did not speak.

He did not need to.

His mouth remained close to Lullaby’s, his expression dark with amusement, heat, and that unbearable calm that made him look as though he had expected her curiosity before she had accepted it herself.

His eyes said it clearly.

’Wanna join us?’

Runa’s soul nearly left her body out of pure offense.

Her mouth opened.

She almost hissed.

The sound climbed her throat, familiar and defensive and very cat.

But she stopped it.

Because hissing at a man while wearing his oversized shirt and peeking at him in bed would not help her argument that she was dignified.

It would damage the case.

Lux’s eyes warmed with silent laughter.

That decided it.

Runa fled.

She moved too quickly for her unstable body, stumbled once in the hallway, caught herself against the wall, and kept going with as much pride as an embarrassed sorcerer cat woman in stolen clothing could salvage.

She reached the guest room.

Shut the door.

Then hurried straight into the bathroom as if marble walls and running water could protect her from what she had just seen.