Her gaze roamed over to the two dim candles sitting on her oak bedside table. They were just enough to illuminate the scarcely furnished room. A brown scratchy blanket lay beneath her on a bed made of hay, a layer of wool added for warmth and ‘comfort.’ A chest at the end of her bed stored her few personal items, and a plain wardrobe to her right held her clothing.
The only other piece of furniture was a small writing desk that had just enough room to fit her elbows on it, with a piece of parchment between them.
Her sleeping chamber was hollow of life, overly small, and almost identical to the many others housing her fellow guildmembers.
But it was hers, which was all that mattered.
Bryce groaned above her, and she looked over his sweat-slicked forehead.
At least he’s enjoying himself.
How long had she been dating him now? Eight months, maybe more?
Honestly, when he’d asked her out, she’d been surprised someone had taken an interest in her. She’d liked him enough. He was decent looking, seemed to have a kind heart, and was dedicated in his work.
At first, she’d enjoyed being with him, especially when their relationship had quickly formed into something physical, then sexual. She’d missed being touched, had missed feeling like… a woman worth getting hard for.
Her heart had ached for the intimacy, as much as her pussy had pulsated with the need she’d often tried to take care of on her own.
But… it’d been a while since Bryce’s touch had ignited anything within her. Now, she worried she was just placating him, allowing her body to be used so she didn’t have to face the ugly truth.
When liquid warmth filled her inner walls, each spurt nipped at her chest like a horrible parasite. Not once had he asked if he could, just doing as he pleased because they both knew there were no repercussions.
She was starting to feel like a cum dump.
It didn’t help that the moment the last of his twitches receded and he was done rudely crushing her underneath all of his heavy weight, he was quick to pull himself out and tie up his pants.
She leant up on her elbow when he searched for his shirt.
“Where are you going?” Emerie asked, her brows furrowing. He was already dressing to leave – without saying a word. “I haven’t come.”
“So?” He glanced at her and must have noticed her jaw muscle twitching. “You’re better at it than me anyway.”
“So?” she mimicked. “Pleasure is supposed to be equal. If I didn’t come, you should help.”
Bryce rolled his brown eyes as he combed his fingers through his wavy blond hair, the length of it barely even two inches. He smoothed it back, as if she had gripped and tugged it out of place in the wild throes – which she hadn’t.
“I have the third round on the watch, which you already know, Co-ordinator.”
Emerie stood so she could find her pants, then stabbed her foot through one of the legs, followed by the other. “Yeah, but that’s not for a few more hours.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice pitched higher as his eyebrows rose suggestively. “I thought you were going to finish?”
Brushing her hands over the skintight shirt of her uniform, she sulked to herself. I’m not in the mood anymore. Out loud she retorted, “Everyone has to do the shitty watches, Bryce.”
His upper lip twitched in annoyance. “You don’t.”
This time, Emerie was the one to roll her eyes. “There are other, more gruelling tasks I must complete that keep me up until that time.”
Yeah… like a mountain of freaking paperwork and recordings that needed transcribing. Then again, the watch on the wall was just as boring, although colder.
“I still can’t believe you’re ranking up before me,” he grumbled, side-eyeing her. “They said there weren’t any positions opening up in the guild.”
A sigh deflated Emerie.
Considering Emerie had been a Demonslayer two years longer than Bryce, there were many other reasons why he’d been told this.
One being that he was aloof and didn’t like taking direction from others. A Master had to be obedient in their prior training, had to take orders and follow the instructions given to them, and execute them perfectly. Every failure, no matter how small or minor, was added to a tally. A mark against their name would see them taking longer to rank up, if at all.
Emerie had been told she only had one mark against her name, but it had also aided in her favour. Her sacrifices had made her worthy of ranking up – although the Elders had taken their sweet time about it.
The other reason was because, although he was strong, he had very little else going for him. He could be cunning, but he wasn’t particularly smart.
Emerie, on the other hand, wasn’t overly strong, but she had always been a formidable opponent. She was smart, well-read, swift, and… lost. Lost to be nothing but a slave to the Elders and their wants. She was hollow, Bryce wasn’t.
Many of the other Demonslayers weren’t. They still had hopes, dreams, desires.
Emerie had one need, and it was the death of Demons.
Which aligned perfectly with the guild’s goals.
She was also acutely aware that the reason the position had been offered to her was because the Head Elder had her sights set on Emerie. She was a little too interested in her training, as they were two of the very few who shared certain similarities: a lack of proper identity, and a steely heart – one of which… was a lie on Emerie’s part.
“Look, if you’re still awake when I finish my watch, I’ll finish you off,” Bryce offered, tossing her a grin. “Even if you’re not, I can come wake you with this.” He gripped his junk through his pants, before leaning forward to kiss the right side of her face. “Just leave your door unlocked.”
Bryce had just guaranteed that she’d not only be locking her door, but she also wouldn’t be around to hear him bashing at it. For all she cared, he could release into his own hand.
I might go sleep in the library tonight. The Elders had never cared that she often found peaceful rest there.
Peaceful because she was so fucking exhausted from studying, that she passed out with her head on a table and her nose in the spine of her book.
When he straightened, her eyes flicked side to side as she looked over his attractive face. He was clean shaven, his brows high and masculine, with one sporting a scar through it. He wasn’t the sexiest man she’d ever laid her eyes upon, but he was pleasant.
Why do all my relationships end up like this?
It didn’t help that they all involved guild members.
She clenched her fist. No. I can’t just throw in the towel. I haven’t even sat down with him and told him how I feel. That he made her feel like shit, even if he didn’t mean to – or maybe he did! Who freaking knew? She was making up assumptions, because she hadn’t sat him down and had a proper talk with him.
Then again, chatting between them was limited to while he was either undoing or redoing his fucking pants.
Her insecurities nagged at the nape of her neck. She rubbed it with her palm.
“Hey. Tomorrow, could we sit down and tal–”
An alarm bell echoed down the halls, booming and reverberating against the stone.
Emerie and Bryce shared a look between each other, one where he appeared paler and her own expression was filled with surprise. Rooted to the spot, his mouth opened and closed.