Chapter 38: You’re doing it wrong.
Damon’s first sensation was heat.
Not the searing heat of fire, nor the incandescent pulse of his demonic core. It was sothing different, softer, more human. A warmth that enveloped his body in a silent embrace.
When he opened his eyes, it took a few seconds to realize where he was. The low ceiling, the plain stone walls of the servants’ quarters, the dim light streaming through the narrow window—everything seed distant. His senses were heightened, as always since his cultivation had advanced, but there was sothing else that caught his attention.
The calm breathing.
The delicate weight resting against his chest.
The golden hair spread like a veil over his skin.
Aria.
She slept in his arms, curled up as if seeking refuge, her lips parted, her face relaxed in an almost angelic expression. The contrast hit him like a blow: he, an incubus, a creature born of temptation and darkness, and she, a simple maid, so pure she seed to belong to another world.
For a few monts, Damon simply stood there, motionless, listening to her heartbeat mingling with his. But inevitably, mories of the night before surfaced.
The whispers.
The tremors.
The complete surrender.
The mont he’d given in to hunger... but also sothing beyond hunger. Sothing he couldn’t na.
The tightness in his chest grew. He hadn’t regretted the act itself—the essence he’d absorbed had strengthened him absurdly, pushing his cultivation to new limits. But the way it had happened... the intimacy, her vulnerability to him—all of it now weighed heavily like invisible chains.
"I shouldn’t have let it go this far."
Still, the sight of her, peacefully in his lap, was a scene he never thought he’d witness.
Damon lifted a hand and, on a foolish impulse, gently brushed away a strand of golden hair that covered her face. His fingers lightly brushed the soft skin of her forehead, and for an instant, he felt sothing inside him warm in a way that had nothing to do with power or essence.
And then he heard it.
A sigh.
Aria stirred in his arms, her delicate body stretching lazily before her eyes fluttered open, still bleary with sleep. When her mind finally registered where she was, who she was with, and most of all how she looked—naked, exposed in the rumpled sheets—her expression completely transford.
"Uh-oh!" Her voice trembled, a muffled sound of pure panic.
Aria’s cheeks flushed like fire. She jumped away from him awkwardly, pulling the sheet to cover herself, but it was useless. The mory was etched into her skin, into her breath, into the invisible mark his touch had left.
"I... I..." she stamred, unsure of what to say, her eyes wide with a mixture of sha and disbelief. "That... that really..."
Damon rose slowly, supporting himself on his elbows, but before he could say anything, Aria was already on her feet, nearly tripping over her own legs as she ran to the corner of the room.
There, on the simple trunk where she kept her clothes, she hurriedly pulled out her worn maid’s dress. Her hands trembled so badly that it took her a few seconds to get it on, the cloth slipping down her shoulders as she tried to cover her body.
Every gesture she made was accompanied by a heavy silence. Damon watched, mute, wanting to call out to her, to explain, to at least say a word. But none ca. The mories of the previous night seed to tie her tongue, and more than that, there was the expression on her face.
Sha.
Fear.
Sothing in between.
When she finally managed to get dressed, Aria clutched the dress to her body, as if the fabric could erase everything that had happened. She looked at Damon for just a mont—her blue eyes t his, filled with a mix of conflicting emotions.
And then she turned her face away, unable to sustain the contact.
"I-I... I need to go," she said quickly, her voice cracking.
"Aria..." Damon tried, finally finding his voice.
But she was already running toward the door. Her hurried footsteps echoed on the stone floor, her golden hair swaying behind her like a ray of light escaping the darkness.
The door slamd, and silence returned to the room.
Damon sat up in bed, the sheets tumbling around his waist, his skin still marked by her heat. His fists clenched against his knees.
"Damn." He fell back onto the bed, staring at the empty ceiling. "What a strange feeling... so strange..."
[Mission: Completely conquer Aria Winters. 60%]
Damon lay there for a few seconds, listening only to the oppressive silence Aria had left behind. The echo of the door slamming still vibrated in his ears, a cruel reminder of the distance that now existed between them.
He took a deep breath, trying to erase the nagging feeling that was gnawing at him. Her scent still clung to the sheets, sweet and disturbing, mixed with the invisible imprint of the essence she had absorbed.
But no matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts away, sothing in him pulsed strongly. His body felt different. The energy in his core danced in violent spirals, as if a new kind of fury had been awakened after that night.
There was no way to stay still.
He got up, dressed hurriedly, and left the room. The mansion’s cool corridors led him to the outer courtyard, where the morning wind blew lightly, carrying the distant scent of damp earth.
There, alone, Damon gripped his spear. The dark wood felt more alive in his hands, as if recognizing the change in its master.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
His demonic energy, normally a river contained within his core, responded imdiately. Like black flas coursing beneath his skin, it spread up his arm until it reached the weapon.
The instant it touched the spear, a wave of pressure spread across the courtyard. The wood groaned softly, absorbing the dark force. Thin lines of energy traced the weapon’s surface, like cracks illuminated in a deep crimson hue.
"Hhh..." Damon felt his heart race. The power was almost intoxicating.
He raised the spear and struck the first blow.
The air crackled.
The blade of the weapon slashed violently, leaving a dark trail that took a mont to disappear. The leaves of the surrounding trees were torn away, swirling in the wind created by the movent.
Damon swung the weapon again, and each thrust seed to carry a new, almost savage intensity. The courtyard was soon marred by fissures in the stone floor, caused by the energy escaping from the blade’s contact with the air.
"Faster..." he muttered through clenched teeth.
He advanced in sequence, thrust after thrust, twist after twist. Demonic energy rged with each movent, as if it were a natural extension of the weapon. The spear was no longer just a combat tool; now it was a channel, an extension of his will.
[Cultivation Technique Progress — 78%]
An involuntary smile ford on Damon’s lips. Every crack, every cut in the air, every vibration of dark energy responding to his will fueled one certainty: he was growing stronger. Much stronger.
But there was also sothing unsettling.
Each ti he bathed the spear in his energy, he felt a strange weight in his chest, as if hunger were growing again. Not ordinary hunger, but that sa dark need that had gripped him last night.
Aria.
The thought surged like a blade, cutting through his concentration. The image of her, blushing, stuttering, fleeing... The desire to see her again mixed with the urge to absorb even more essence.
The spear trembled in his hands, and he gritted his teeth.
"Concentrate, damn it..." he muttered.
He took a deep breath, spreading the energy through his body and weapon again. The blows continued, now even heavier, as if trying to expel that internal conflict with each thrust.
The courtyard floor cracked, and the wind created by his movents roared like a contained storm.
[Cultivation Technique Progress — 82%]
Damon paused for a mont, panting, resting the spear on the ground. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but it wasn’t just physical exertion. His body was in a state of ecstasy and tornt, strengthened and ravenous at the sa ti.
Damon was resting his spear on the ground, taking a deep breath, when a cold, almost amused voice sounded behind him.
"You’re doing it wrong."
Reviews
All reviews (0)