Semper: A Dark Cult Romance (Stygian Isles Book 2), page 15
At first, the kiss was soft, controlled—a mere brush of lips that was meant to coax me in, to ease me into his rhythm, but it didn’t stay that way. The gentleness evaporated in a heartbeat. His hold on me tightened, pulling me against him with an urgency that made my stomach dip. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the possessiveness behind every movement, every shift of his body.
The kiss deepened, spiraling out of control as I melted into him. It was a claim, a reminder of who I belonged to. His mouth was demanding, consuming, like he was trying to pull me deeper into him, into the life I wasn’t sure I had the strength to resist anymore.
My hands clung to him, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit as his tongue brushed against mine, sending a shock of heat through me. Every part of me reacted to him, betraying the part of my mind that was still trying to hold on to something beyond him. He broke the kiss, but not by much. His lips hovered just above mine. His beautiful eyes had a predatory gleam in them as they searched my face. “You can greet me like that every time I come home from now on."
Before I could respond, he fluffed my hair playfully. “Come on, deliciae,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, leading me toward the kitchen. Once we reached the sleek marble island, he gently placed me on a barstool, then loosened his tie in one fluid motion. “I want to make something clear before I say anything else,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine.
“You no longer have a boss. There is no man above you—other than myself, of course.”
I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. I hadn't expected his possessiveness to extend to my past job, to that part of my life that I had thought was separate from all this, but then Alexander had been a part of that too.
He moved to the liquor cabinet, beginning to make himself his usual drink with methodical precision. I had noticed, over time, that the servitors never did this for him—this small ritual was something he always took care of himself.
“They are our cousins, the Erebus,” he said casually as he poured the liquor over ice, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. “And they weave certain ideologies of Impío into their off-Isle operations.”
“Operations?” I echoed, frowning slightly.
He glanced at me as he stirred his drink. “That’s a whole other story, much different than the recruitment chapels being built.”
“Recruitment?” My confusion deepened. “I thought everyone here was...”
“Related?” He finished with a grin, a knowing glint in his eyes.
He was fully aware of what I was still avoiding, the line of thought I hadn’t been ready to confront. “Our people are all rooted to this Isle, yes, but we rotate in long-standing disciples from outside. Fresh blood,” he said with a smirk, “to avoid a batch of children that look like something the Devil shit out.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed, the sound slipping out despite the dark and twisted nature of his words. It was sick and wrong, but the absurdity of it cracked something in me for just a moment. And when he heard me laugh, Alexander paused, his gaze locking onto mine with an unreadable expression.
"I love that sound," he murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. "Did you know when you laugh or smile, your entire face lights up? It's beautiful." His smile widened slightly, the warmth of it disarming for a moment. "I need to make sure you do it more often." He turned back toward the ice chest, placing the cubes inside with a slow, deliberate movement.
Then, almost as an afterthought, his voice dropped. "The only sound better than that is when I'm inside of you."
My face heated instantly, my skin flushing as his words hit me. There were two sides to him, both dangerously possessive but in diverse ways. The darker, intense side that commanded my submission without question, and this—this softer, yet still relentless version of him that wrapped around me like a velvet snare.
I swallowed, trying to regain my composure.
"Tell me," I began, keeping my voice steady, though my heart raced. "How far does this reach? How much of my life... have you been involved in?"
He paused for a moment, the clink of the ice in the glass the only sound in the room as he processed my question. "I haven’t always known about you," he admitted slowly. "But when I did find out you existed, a few years ago... everything changed. I’ve spent every waking minute since preparing for your arrival on the Isle." His voice was smooth, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him.
"This house, everything you see around you—it was all built for you. I made sure no other woman could claim we were together, that none of them mattered enough." He smirked, teasing me as his gaze roved over my face. "That one matters to you, doesn’t it?"
Without giving me a chance to respond, he continued, his tone deepening.
"And yes, I made sure you were always somewhere I could have eyes on you. That shitty apartment of yours aside." He chuckled, the sound dark and knowing. "But short of burning it to the ground, I knew you'd never buy the idea of moving into the manor I bought a few blocks from the resort."
My eyes widened. "You bought a house... near the resort?"
His grin grew wider, the playful malice in it unmistakable. "And now you know we have another vacation home." He took another sip of his drink and ran a hand through his dark hair. "When I tell you that you were always meant to be mine, it goes beyond the physical, Lolita. From the moment I learned of you, I made sure nothing could stand in the way of that."
He turned away and grabbed another glass, filling it with ice, the soft clinking sound echoing in the quiet room. His words, his revelations, swirled around my mind, tangling with the uncertainty of what I knew and what I still didn’t. We’re tied together by blood. That was the part I couldn’t shake. I swallowed hard, feeling the question rise in my throat, the one I’d been avoiding for so long.
"You told me we’re tied together by blood... but what does that mean?"
He glanced at me, his lips curling into a half-smile. He was enjoying the power he held over me, savoring the way he controlled the flow of information.
Without answering, he finished preparing the other drink and brought it to me, setting the glass down in front of me with a quiet clink.
"Drink this," he said softly.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice wary.
"It's called Elixir Obscura," he replied, his tone smooth and nonchalant. "A special blend from the Isle. Curated from our land, aged to perfection." He took the stool beside me, his presence overwhelming even in the stillness.
"Is it laced with anything?" I couldn’t help but ask.
He laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Didn’t I tell you I’d warn you if I did that?" His hand grazed my arm, a casual touch that felt anything but innocent. "Taste it."
Hesitantly, I lifted the glass to my lips, the scent of the liquor sharp and rich. The first sip was smooth, the taste of honey and dark berries blending with a subtle hint of smoke.
It was surprisingly good, the warmth of the drink spreading through me almost immediately. I took another sip, the edges of my apprehension softening.
"You like it?" His voice was low, and smooth as he watched me, his gaze never leaving my face.
I nodded, a little surprised by how quickly I responded. "It's really good."
"I thought you would."
We sat together for a few moments, the warmth of the drink creating a strange sense of calm. My mind was moving more slowly now, and the questions I had been holding onto started to slip out, one by one.
"Is it because of... devil babies that Jamison doesn’t sleep with Cassandra?" I asked, the words sounding odd even to me.
Alexander made a muffled sound, then started to laugh, the kind of deep, genuine laugh that added to the warmth the drink was spreading through me.
"Devil babies?" He shook his head, still grinning. "Jamison is frequently fucking her. I’m sure you’ll see it at future gatherings."
I blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
He looked amused, as if I were missing some obvious point. "The services you’ve witnessed are just a small portion of our faith, deliciae." He leaned in slightly, his tone teasing but dark. "We are a very visual... and carnal religion. And we have the best parties."
I stared at him, completely at a loss for words. "You do that too?"
He chuckled again, the sound rich and dangerous. "Do you really want the answer to that?"
My brow furrowed, and he laughed again, affectionately. "Cassandra cannot have children. Normally, that would be grounds for her to be... respectfully removed." His tone remained casual, but I knew what he meant.
It was death hidden beneath the veil of tradition.
"Their relation, and Jamison being a close friend, spared her,” he continued.
I processed his words, my mind piecing together more reality of the Isle. "He sleeps with Emilia too," I stated slowly, testing the waters of this strange conversation.
"Sometimes both at once," Alexander mused, a dark smile playing on his lips. "But that's not the norm. Most men keep their progenitors and fidelis separate from their wives. They aren’t permitted to bring them to gatherings."
“What are fid-fidelis?”
“Men kept by other men.”
I was mid-sip when he said that, nearly choking. "You have same-sex couples here?"
His brows raised slightly. "You make it seem as if we’re some stone-age society. Of course, we do. As long as they take a wife and still contribute to the Isle, we accept all of our disciples."
I stared at him, processing this. It was an oddly progressive yet deeply twisted way of doing things. It didn’t escape my notice this arrangement still catered to men, not women.
"Cassandra doesn’t like Emilia," I murmured, more to myself than to him.
He laughed lightly. "I'm aware."
"Is that how it usually is?"
He shook his head. "Progenitors are meant to be treated with the same respect our servitors are. Some wives struggle with the arrangement despite needing them. If a woman cannot give her husband children, they either are removed from the Isle, knocked down to a servitor position, or their husbands apply for a Progenitor. We—my Magistri and a few other officials‑‑decide who should be granted one. Not everyone needs to reproduce."
"And that’s where the stone-age thing comes from," I muttered without thinking.
He chuckled, his gaze lingering on me.
"You pick up on things quickly. How did you notice the tension between Cassandra and Emilia?"
I hesitated, the memory flashing in my mind. The sharp looks, the subtle undercurrents. "It’s not hard to see when you’re looking closely," I admitted, choosing my words carefully.
There was an immediate shift in his demeanor as he tilted his head. “She did something then, something that upset you.”
I froze, caught off guard by the directness of his statement. “How do you assume that?”
“I don’t assume anything, I know.” His voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll handle it.”
“She just lost a baby,” I reasoned, the weight of the day's events still heavy on my chest.
“What does that have to do with upsetting you?” he asked, his tone too casual.
I swallowed hard and took another drink, my throat suddenly dried. This side of him was suffocating at times, and I had no idea what “handling it” meant. Desperate to steer the conversation away from whatever dark turn it was about to take, I blurted out, “Wait—why don’t you have kids?”
It was an unexpected question, even for me. Alexander’s eyes flickered, and for the first time, he seemed caught off guard, which I secretly loved. He paused, considering my question with a thoughtful expression, as if weighing how much to reveal. "I've always been discreet about who I touch," he began to explain. "I can tell you the exact number of women I’ve been with and where each of them is now."
I felt an uncomfortable tightness in my chest. The thought of him with others, of him cataloging each encounter, sent a wave of unease through me.
"Given my position and because I have certain expectations, I could never get just any woman pregnant," he continued. "The Isle has measures in place to prevent accidental pregnancies. Anyone seeking pleasure beyond their home uses the Pleasure House, or they go off the Isle to those operations I mentioned that the Erebus is in charge of."
His words felt clinical and detached, and I hated this conversation more with every passing second. My stomach twisted as I forced myself to ask the next question. "But you wouldn’t have used those measures with your wives, right?"
He turned to face me fully, a faint, almost amused smile gracing his gorgeous face. "No," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "But that just further proves they were not meant for me. The first sign the Isle had already chosen you." His eyes locked onto mine.
I studied his side profile, searching for a crack in his façade, something that might hint at doubt or hesitation.
There was none.
Emboldened by the warmth of the drink, I dared to push a little further. "Are you sure you can...?"
He turned toward me again, a slow grin spreading across. "Is that a challenge?"
I swallowed hard, shaking my head quickly. "No, of course it isn’t."
His grin widened, the look in his eyes dangerous. “Good. Because when I take what’s mine, it’s not a challenge—it’s a certainty.”
"Alex..." I sighed.
“Our people have been waiting for you since the false Diaboli was stripped of her place,” he continued smoothly. "The Isle knew that a false bride was standing in your place and then dared to do what she did as everything unraveled."
I frowned. "What she did? Do you mean her cheating on you?"
He ignored my question, his gaze hard and unyielding, refusing to be sidetracked. "Haven't you noticed? Our birth rates have never been lower. And it isn’t for lack of medical care. You’ve seen the facilities we have here, and I assure you, our methods are advanced enough that people are desperate to get approval just to come to the Isle for treatment or cosmetic procedures." He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle over me. "What happened today is a direct reflection of the Isle’s rejection. Had you been here sooner, that child would have lived."
My voice wavered as I tried to grasp the weight of his words. "This... I don't know how to believe what you're telling me."
He placed a hand on my thigh, the possessiveness in his touch making my skin tingle.
"Then let your body and the Isle show you. Let me."
I blinked, confusion swirling in my mind. "What?"
"Today, the Isle took a child. But you... you’re ready to be filled with one. Bringing new life forth will give our people the security they need to do the same. It will be a sign from the Isle itself."
I couldn't stop my thoughts from spiraling, torn between the woman I had once been and the one he claimed I was always meant to be. How could I reconcile the mundane life of a hotel housekeeper with this twisted destiny, one that seemed to bind me to something ancient and unyielding?
"You really believe I can do that?" The question slipped from my lips, even as I struggled to comprehend it.
"You will do it," he replied with eerie certainty.
He studied me then as if seeing something hidden beneath my skin. "You’re already ovulating."
I exhaled sharply in disbelief. "How can you possibly—?"
"Your body is a treasure, Lolita. Do you think I wouldn’t know it inside and out?"
A rush of heat flooded my face as I stared at him, feeling the weight of his conviction. His words carried an air of finality. I’d been turning over the events of the day, questioning everything, but this? This twisted reasoning—linking me to the survival of a child I hadn’t even known existed until hours ago—felt like too much. Yet, in the pit of my stomach, there was a part of me that feared he might be right.
I had noticed the lack of expectant mothers. I brushed it off. Now it felt like a glaring omission. I tried to push back against the truth he was weaving around me, but it was getting harder to resist.
I finished most of my drink, the warmth of it spreading through me, dulling the sharper edges of my thoughts. I wasn’t drunk, but my usual resistance felt softer, and my inhibitions lowered. Alexander downed the remainder of his own drink and stood, his eyes never leaving mine. He extended his hand toward me, and this time, I didn’t hesitate. There was something about the way he moved, the certainty in his eyes that made me want to follow.
"Come," he said, reaching for me.
I placed my hand in his, letting him lead me from the kitchen and up the stairs.
As we walked, my mind felt clearer, not weighed down by the confusion that had plagued me earlier. Instead, I felt a strange sense of peace, the tension slipping away with each step. The sound of our footsteps echoed softly in the quiet, and shadows danced along the walls, casting everything in an almost dreamlike glow. When we reached the bedroom, Alexander opened the door and gestured for me to enter first. It was comfortably warm, the fireplace casting a soft light over the bed. The air felt heavy with anticipation. He closed the door behind us and moved closer, his hand sliding to the small of my back.
I could feel the heat radiating from his body, my skin tingling under his touch. Slowly, he turned me around to face him, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. Without a word, he lowered his head and kissed me, soft at first, testing me.
His lips claimed mine in a way that left no doubt of his intentions. I melted into him, the last of my reservations dissolving. His hands trailed down my sides, firm yet tender, sending shivers up my spine. He guided me back toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. As my knees hit the edge of the mattress, he gently pushed me down, hovering above me as he kissed his way down my neck, sending a delicious heat coursing through my veins.
"You’re ready, Lolita," he whispered against my skin, his lips brushing just below my ear. "The Isle knows it. I know it."
