Page 30 of Semper
“I don’t need anyone else,” I added, my fingers tightening slightly on her chin, pulling her closer. “You, Lolita. Just you.”
Her silence was deafening. I let my thumb brush over her lips, the contact sending a jolt through both of us, as though the Isle itself approved of the claim I had just laid down.
There was no escaping it.
I leaned down and kissed her, tasting the sweet residue of the fruit she'd started nibbling on. It was a brief kiss at first, just the soft brush of my mouth against hers, but then I deepened it, savoring her taste, the lingering essence of peaches, and the warm comfort of her presence. I felt her stiffen, just for a second, before she softened under my touch, yielding to me, a sign of her growing comfort, her slow surrender. The progress wasn’t lost on me. She was becoming more accustomed to the rhythm of our life here. Each day, she gave me a little more of herself, even if she didn’t realize it. I tightened my grip, and her breath hitched.
I forced myself to break away, though the temptation to linger was strong. I grazed her lips with mine one last time before returning to my seat. "Finish up," I said softly, my voice carrying more authority than affection. She nodded, her gaze returning to the food before her, lost in her thoughts. She was still wary, still navigating the treacherous waters of our relationship, but there was no denying the pull between us.
As I watched her, my own mind drifted. She hadn't mentioned Anya at all. Not once had she brought up her friend, nor had she asked for more details about the nature of our connection—the bloodlines that tied us together. It was only a matter of time before she did. I knew her too well. Lolita would first immerse herself in denial, to distance herself from what I’d revealed. That was in her nature, to resist until she could no longer pretend it wasn’t real.
As for Anya, she wouldn’t let that go. She was likely already planning how to address it, waiting for the right moment to bring it up. I was prepared for that. I’d been working on it for weeks, carefully curating every move, every word. I had what I needed now—the recording from Carcerem. That conversation had gone precisely as I'd hoped. The pieces were falling into place. She'd have no choice but to listen when the time came.
I watched her, waiting, taking in the way her fingers twitched slightly, and her jaw tightened as she stared at her wrists. She was thinking about what happened in the Chapel, about the pain, the surrender, and the pleasure that had come with it. She was still battling herself, clinging to that last bit of resistance, but that too was slipping.
“How does your back feel?” I asked, knowing the answer but wanting her to say it aloud.
She glanced at me briefly before dropping her gaze back to her wrists. “Whatever gel you use works well. It only stings a little.”
I nodded, pleased. “Good. I’ll apply more tonight. What do you think of the estate?" I asked next, casually picking up my glass, and taking a sip while keeping my gaze fixed on her.
She blinked as if startled by the sudden shift in conversation. "It’s beautiful," she began, her voice soft but steady. "Large, though. Bigger than I imagined."
I smiled. "It has to be. We’ll need space for the family we’re going to have."
Her expression tightened; the subtle deflection obvious as she shifted in her seat. "Some of the doors stayed locked even with my key," she said hesitantly, avoiding the subject of the future I had laid out for us.
"Some doors are meant to remain locked until the right time. You’ll have access to everything eventually. Patience,deliciae."
She hesitated again, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. Then, as if the words were drawn out of her against her will, she said, "I saw the nursery."
"Ah," I murmured, smiling as I set my glass down. "Yes, the nursery. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? My mother helped with the design."
Her eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—fear or denial. Both.
"I wasn’t sure if…" she trailed off, her voice shaky. "If that was for—."
"For us?" I finished; “It is.”
Her unease was palpable as the reality of what I had just confirmed sank in. A future that involved not just her, but our children—the legacy of the Isle itself.
"Don’t worry," I added. "You’ll grow into your role. It’s in your blood."
Silence stretched between us, but I could tell something was weighing on her. I waited for her to speak.
“Can I ask you something?”
I didn’t respond immediately, letting the tension build before nodding. “Of course.”
She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “You talk about my role here... about what I’m supposed to become. What about you?” She paused, as though gathering courage. “What made you like this? Why do you want this life?”
A smile tugged at my lips. She was always searching for answers, trying to rationalize something beyond logic and the ordinary. I leaned forward, my fingers drumming lightly on the table. “I never wanted anything else. From the time I was a child, everyone knew I would becomeDiabolus, just as my father was before me. There was no question of what my life would be, and I never desired anything different. I’ve always fully embraced who and what I am.”
Her brows furrowed slightly as she tried to absorb what I was telling her.
“This,” I gestured to the room around us, “isn’t just a choice. It’s in my blood, in my bones. It’s who I was always meant to be.”
I watched her closely, letting the silence stretch between us, watching my words take root. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, still clouded with uncertainty, that flicker of defiance she clung to like a lifeline. She still viewed me as her captor, the man whohad taken everything from her. She hadn’t yet grasped that I was offering her more than captivity. I was offering her the world—as long as she knelt down inmine.