Chapter 65 The demon possessed toy is my beta?
Vuk Kael Lasković
One week, three days, thirty-four minutes, and forty seconds.
An eternity.
Since I’d laid down the law in that cursed study—one month to prove the child could live inside her without burning her from the inside out.
Seven days of watching healers come and go like carrion birds, of forcing infernal wine down my own throat just to keep my hands from shaking when I touched her.
“Alpha… let me help.”
Livia’s voice from the doorway again—for the millionth time in the past hour. Soft. Careful.
I didn’t look up from the mortar.
“Never mind,” I muttered, grinding the last of the starbloom petals into fine dust. “No one tends to my queen like I do.”
She lingered a second longer, then the door clicked shut.
The herbs were ready: pale green paste of moonwort, silverleaf, and crushed starbloom—gentle enough not to feed the flame, strong enough to coax her lunar essence back toward the surface.
I scooped it into the silver bowl, thinned it with chilled spring water, and carried it back to the bedchamber.
She lay exactly as I’d left her.
Pale. Still. Breathing so shallow the silk barely moved.
Golden coils of lunar light had wrapped around her in the last few days—thin, shimmering threads like living moonlight, cradling her, protecting the fragile life inside. They glowed brightest over her stomach, as though the child itself had learned to hold her close.
And curled at her feet, tail draped possessively over her ankle like a living scarf, was Gold.
The cat lifted her head when I entered—golden eyes narrowing in that judgmental way only cats can manage. She gave one slow blink, as if to say: You’re late. Again.
I snorted softly.
“Guarding her better than half my guard, aren’t you?” I murmured to the cat as I set the bowl down.
Gold flicked an ear, unimpressed, then went back to kneading the sheet with tiny paws.
“Little moon,” I began, voice dropping to that private register only she ever heard—even when she couldn’t answer.
I reached for the cool, damp towel and gently wiped her face. Her cheeks were fever-flushed, but the rest of her was cold. Always cold now.
I traced the cloth along her brow, her temple, the delicate line of her jaw.
Her once-dyed ginger hair had given up the fight completely—long, pure white-gold strands spilled across the pillow like moonlight caught in silk. Her true color. The color I’d first scented on her in the snow.
I smiled—small, cracked at the edges.
“I’m having difficulties with Tyrant here,” I said, keeping my tone light, as though she might laugh any second. “Stubborn little beast. Goes into the kitchen, takes whatever she likes, and leaves chaos. Yesterday she knocked over three jars of infernal spice just to watch them shatter. I think she misses you yelling at her to behave.”
Gold let out a tiny, haughty mrrp from the foot of the bed, as if agreeing.
“Also planted jasmine flowers just across the balcony,” I continued, moving the cloth down her neck. “Right where you used to sit and read. The scent drifts in at night now. Sweet. Clean. Like your skin after a bath.”
I paused, throat tight.
What more…
“Oh—look here.”
I lifted the edge of my jacket just enough for the light to catch the fresh ink on my ribs—her face, fine black lines and subtle silver shading. The curve of her cheek, the tilt of her eyes, the soft part of her lips when she was thinking.
“I had my precious little mate carved on my skin,” I said quietly. “Perfect, isn’t it?”
I waited.
No answer.
But in my mind she answered—clear as if she were awake.
She smiled—soft, sleepy, the way she used to when I surprised her with gentleness. Her fingers traced the lines of her own face on my chest.
“I like it,” she whispered in my imagination. “I want more flowers, Vuk. Plant the whole balcony. I’ll sit there when I wake up and smell them every morning.”
And when she saw the tattoo she would gasp—small, delighted—then blush so deeply my dead, cold heart would stutter back to life.
Gold stretched, bumped her head against Maureen’s ankle once, then settled again with a contented purr that vibrated through the mattress.
What a blessing to have such a woman.
What an honor to have her beside me—even like this.
With a tiny golden guard cat who clearly thought she was in charge.
I leaned down, pressed my lips to Maureen’s forehead—lingering until I tasted salt.
“I’m not losing you,” I whispered. “Not to the flame. Not to the moon. Not to anything.”
Then I glanced at Gold.
“And you—keep guarding her, little tyrant. When she wakes up, she’s going to spoil you rotten. And I’m going to let her.”
The cat blinked slowly once.
I took that as agreement.
I’ll wait.
Forever if I have to.
I lifted the spoon again, scooped the last of the moonwort paste, and leaned over Maureen. Her lips parted slightly in sleep.
I pressed my mouth to hers—gentle, lingering—and let the medicine trickle from my tongue to hers. Her throat moved on instinct, swallowing.
I stayed there longer than necessary, breathing her in, tasting the faint sweetness that still clung to her even now.
When the bowl was empty, I set it aside. My fingers traced her cheek—soft, fever-warm—then down to her jaw, her throat.
I bent and kissed the gentle swell of her stomach where the golden coils pulsed brightest, lips lingering against the skin.
“Come back to me,” I murmured against her. “Come back so I can tell you I love you without the words tasting like goodbye.”
I straightened. Kissed her forehead one last time.
Then I turned and left the chamber, closing the door with a soft, final click.
I still had several decrees to issue and a handful of newly fated mates awaiting my blessing.
With a final glance at the corridor behind me, I turned toward the throne room.
The moment I stepped inside, the silence hit like a physical weight. It was the deep, suffocating hush that presses against the eardrums, thick with expectation—the kind that exists only in the heartbeat before a scream rips the world apart.
I watched them enter from the shadows of the dais—Eryx first, broad and steady as always, but his hand was locked around hers like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go.
Nyxara trailed half a step behind, shoulders hunched, the fresh bite on her throat glowing faintly under the torchlight like a brand of shame she hadn’t yet learned to wear.
She looked small. Fragile. Almost human.
I hated it.
I hated how he looked at her—like she was the only thing keeping the world from spinning off its axis.
I hated how she leaned into him, trembling, as if his body could shield her from what was coming.
They stopped at the foot of the dais.
Eryx bowed—deep, formal.
Nyxara dipped her head, barely, voice so soft I almost didn’t hear it.
“My lord…”
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just let the silence stretch until it hurt.
Eryx cleared his throat. “Alpha Devil. We’ve come to—”
“We?” I cut him off, voice flat.
I rose slowly, boots echoing on the black stone as I descended one step at a time.
“There is no ‘we’ here, Eryx. There is you—my second, my blade, the only one I’ve ever trusted with my back—and there is her.”
My gaze flicked to Nyxara.
“The thing you dragged in off the street like a stray.”
Eryx’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look away.
I stopped two paces from them. Close enough to smell the jasmine on her skin, the smoke of black magic clinging to his coat, the faint copper tang of the bond they’d already sealed without my permission.
“Speak,” I said. “Before I decide you’ve wasted enough of my time.”
Eryx swallowed. “We’ve come to ask for your blessing. On our… relationship.”
The word landed like spit on stone.
I stared at him. Then at her. Then back at him.
A laugh clawed its way out of my chest—low, jagged, ugly.
“Blessing.”
I stepped closer. Eryx didn’t flinch. Nyxara did.
“You want me to bless a wolf tying himself to an incubus?” I asked softly. “To a creature that feeds on desire the way rats feed on garbage? To a thing that’s been fucked and fed on by half the Dominion’s underbelly while you were out bleeding for me?”
Nyxara flinched harder this time. Her free hand came up, trembling, like she wanted to cover the mark on her throat.
Eryx stepped half in front of her. “Alpha—”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t you dare shield her from the truth she already knows.”
I turned my full attention to Nyxara. She tried to meet my eyes. Failed. Looked at the floor instead.
“Look at me,” I ordered.
She obeyed—slowly, reluctantly. Tears already brimming.
“You think you’re special because he’s chosen you?” I said. “You think that bite makes you anything more than a warm hole he’s decided to ruin his life over? You’re a demon, Nyxara. A leech. A walking temptation that’s been passed around like cheap wine. You don’t love him. You hunger. And right now, you’re hungry for his loyalty, his power, his position. You’re using him the way you’ve used every man before him.”
Her lips parted. No sound came out at first. Then, barely a whisper:
“That’s not… I’m not…”
“Shut up,” I said, not loud. Just cold. Final. “You don’t get to speak unless I allow it.”
She closed her mouth. Tears spilled over. She didn’t wipe them away.
I turned back to Eryx.
“You. Look at what you’ve become. On your knees—figuratively, for now—begging for a demon’s cunt. You were my second. My brother in blood and blade. And now you’re this? A lovesick pup whining for a forbidden toy?”
Eryx’s voice cracked. “She’s not a toy. She’s—”
I moved before he finished.
My hand cracked across his face—open palm, hard enough to snap his head to the side. The sound echoed like a whipcrack.
Nyxara gasped, hand flying to her mouth.
Eryx didn’t move. Didn’t raise a hand to his reddening cheek. Just stared at the floor, breathing hard.
I grabbed his chin. Forced his face up so he had to meet my eyes.
“Wake up,” I hissed. “Look at me and tell me you’re not under her thrall. Tell me this isn’t some incubus trick twisting your mind until you forget who you are. Who your father was. Who your blood demands you be.”
Eryx’s eyes were wet. Not from pain. From something worse.
“I’m not under her thrall,” he said, voice raw. “I love her. I chose her. The bond is real. It’s done. And I won’t undo it.”
I released him. Stepped back. Looked at him like I was seeing a stranger.
“Then you’re a fool,” I said quietly. “And fools don’t hold rank in my court.”
I turned to Nyxara. She was shaking so hard her teeth chattered.
“You wanted to prove you’re more than a whore who feeds on lust? Then watch this.”
I looked at the guards lining the walls.
“Take him.”
They moved like shadows—four of them, armored, silent. They seized Eryx’s arms.
He didn’t fight. Just looked at me—eyes wide, betrayed, pleading.
Nyxara lunged forward. “No—Alpha please!”
She grabbed at Eryx’s coat. One guard shoved her back. She stumbled, caught herself on the dais steps, and looked up at me with pure devastation.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered. “I’ll leave. I’ll disappear tonight. Just don’t—don’t take him. I’ll do anything. Please.”
I stared down at her. “Anything?”
She nodded frantically.
“Then disappear,” I said. “And never come back. If I see you within the Dominion’s borders again, I’ll have you chained in the pits and let every wolf who remembers what your kind did to their packs take turns reminding you what it means to be nothing.”
She sobbed once—sharp, broken.
Eryx struggled then. Not against the guards. Against his own restraint.
“Let her go,” he rasped. “Punish me. Not her.”
I walked to him. Close enough that he could feel the rage radiating off me.
“You think you’re protecting her?” I asked. “You’re damning her. Because now she’ll spend every night wondering if you’re alive. And you’ll spend every night in chains wondering if she’s starving without you. That’s what love gets you in my world, Eryx. Pain. And nothing else.”
I nodded to the guards.
They dragged him away.
He didn’t look back at her. Couldn’t. But his shoulders shook.
Nyxara collapsed to her knees, hands pressed to the stone, sobs wracking her whole body.
I turned away.
The doors slammed shut behind them.
I stood there in the empty room. Chest heaving. Hands clenched.
I poured infernal wine with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling.
I drank.
It burned.
Not as much as the look in Eryx’s eyes when I slapped him.
Not as much as the knowledge that I’d just broken the only man who’d ever called me brother.
But I’d do it again.
Because bloodlines matter.
Legacy matters.
And I will not watch the Dominion fall to a demon’s hunger.
Even if it costs me everything I ever valued.