Chapter 31 – Not Helpless
Rava's desire.
Fiera's dangerous interest.
Elyndra's cold confession.
Mira's suspicion—layered with something deeper. Something sharper.
It was like listening to a quartet of empires plotting war.
But instead of weapons, they spoke in heels, glances, and whispered fantasies.
Naomi noticed the smile curling on his lips.
"You look like you're enjoying all the attention, Lux," she said, her voice light but edged with curiosity.
Lux turned his head. "I do."
She rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."
"I mean," he went on, swirling his wine lazily, "if you could hear them, you'd be smiling too."
Naomi raised a brow. "What's so funny?"
He gave a low chuckle, the kind that always made people lean in without knowing why.
Naomi waited. And then, just when she thought he wouldn't answer.
"I mean…" she hesitated, looking down into her glass. "From what I know, every time they talk about boys or men, it's never a good thing. It's always like... 'tame the man,' or 'break him in,' or... money." She sipped again, softer this time. "Never something like… understand him. Or even respect him. It's always about what they can take from the guy."
Lux smiled wider.
"Exactly what makes them funny."
Naomi's eyes flicked back to him. "Why?"
He tilted his head, and the city lights caught in the red gleam of his eyes.
"Because…" he said slowly, "they think they can do it."
His grin sharpened. "But they can't."
Naomi stared at him for a moment.
Then, quietly, she nodded. "It's true."
Then Lux leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice lower now—seductive without trying.
"You know…" he said, "since we're here… wine, stars, ambiance… Wanna get your mark now?"
Naomi blinked.
Her breath caught just a little. Her eyes flicked up to meet his—those eyes—still glowing, still unreadable.
They weren't just red.
They were alive. Like rubies cursed by a god and blessed by a devil.
She pouted slightly, hesitating. "But…" she said quietly, "if you mark me here… they might know."
"Know what?"
"That you're a demon."
Lux sat back slightly, lips twitching into something darker, something wicked.
"I mean…" Naomi added quickly, "your magic, your… aura, it's different. You don't just radiate mana. It's something else."
He nodded slowly.
And she wasn't wrong.
In the mortal world, some people could use magic—spells, family enchantments, runes passed down through bloodlines. There were elite families with 'blessed' sigils on their bones, and nobles who wore legacy tattoos that shimmered when they whispered names older than kingdoms.
But that kind of magic?
That was mortal.
Lux's magic wasn't.
It wasn't woven.
It was born.
Power from a realm so deep, so old, even the light didn't try to reach it. His energy carried weight, gravity. It could collapse entire illusions with a whisper, or bend reality if he gave it shape.
Including Naomi.
She had that kind of exception.
Not the loud, blazing kind of power that drew attention like fire. No, Naomi's strength was quiet. Subtle. A legacy buried in grace and silence.
It came from her bloodline—old, refined, and carefully concealed. Most people missed it.
Her elegance, her soft voice, her poised gestures… They painted her as a delicate woman. Harmless. Polished and proper.
And people believed it.
Even Lux.
He'd scanned her the first time they met, observed her mannerisms, the way she spoke, the careful cadence of someone raised behind walls of gold. And yet… he hadn't truly seen her.
Not until she wrapped her hand around his neck and held him like she'd done it before.
That moment?
That was the first fracture in his perception.
Because Naomi wasn't helpless.
She was dangerous in a different way.
It was the reason she didn't mind following him that first day.
Why she walked into his suite without flinching.
Because unlike most heiresses, who came with retinues of bodyguards and a pocket full of emergency scrolls, Naomi had only herself.
And Naomi could fight. Melee combats. Gun fight. Sword combat.
She wasn't weak.
She could land a punch that broke ribs. Move like someone trained to escape a mansion. She didn't need bodyguards. Not against people.
But against demons?
Against angels?
Against things like Lux?
She wasn't ready.
And she knew it.
"I just…" she murmured, voice smaller now, "if they see your power… if they sense it…"
Lux reached across the table and touched her wrist—just barely.
His warmth, the strange electric calm that poured off his skin—it grounded her instantly.
"Don't worry," he said, voice low and wrapped in shadows. "They won't see it as something bad. Or corrupted. Or dark."
He leaned closer again, lips curling at the corner.
"It's just a mark."
His tone—like velvet laid over a dagger. It wasn't comforting.
It was tempting.
Naomi's eyes searched his face, her heart thudding. She couldn't lie to herself anymore.
She wanted it.
Even though she didn't fully understand it.
Even though it would change something.
Even though it might mean something more than just protection.
"…Where would it go?" she asked softly.
Lux smiled.
"Back. Right shoulder blade," he said. "Close to your heart."
Naomi exhaled slowly.
She glanced back toward the indoor lounge.
The girls were laughing again. Mira's tail flicked lazily near the wine bar. Fiera was tossing her hair like she wasn't trying to get Lux's attention from across the glass. Rava was sipping something dark and oceanic, her gaze half-lidded—but still tracking Lux like he was prey swimming too close to the reef.
"They'll know," Naomi whispered again.
"I know," Lux replied. "But they won't understand. That's the difference."
A beat passed.
Naomi looked at him.
Really looked.
His presence wasn't a façade. It wasn't charm magic. It wasn't glamor.
It was him.
Lux Vaelthorn.
The demon who made billionaire heiresses blush and reconsider their life plans.
The creature that made her feel… seen.
Naomi set her glass down.
"Okay," she said. "Do it."
Lux didn't move.
He only held her eyes for a moment.
"You sure?"
"Yes," she whispered.
He stood slowly, the shadows curling around his frame as he extended a hand.
Naomi took it.
And the moment she did—
The candlelight bowed.
The skyline blurred.
And the air bent around them like they'd stepped outside of time.
The mark would come.
The pact would settle.