Rissa didn't move away.
The Library remained silent, indifferent even. The shelves didn't shift or creak. No rules announced themselves. Limbo didn't interfere. It simply observed and allowed, as it always had.
Her thigh was still pressed against mine. Her tail stayed looped around my wrist, tight enough that I could feel the strain running through it, like a muscle held in check. Her breathing had gone shallow, chest rising and falling faster now, betraying her composure. The wet heat between her legs was no longer something she bothered to hide. It brushed against my hip each time she shifted her weight.
"You already chose," I said quietly.
Her eyes snapped up to mine. Wide, as if looking through my soul.
"I didn't say anything," she whispered.
"You didn't had to," I replied.
That was enough.
I slid my hand from her breast down her side again, slower this time, gently, making sure she felt every inch of contact. She shuddered as my fingers traced the curve of her waist, then her hip, then slipped along the inside of her thigh. Her knees parted without hesitation. Instinct took over, Hell-trained obedience responding to pressure and expectation.
A small, broken sound escaped her when my fingers brushed between her legs again, this time lingering. She was slick. Hot. Achingly ready. Her hands clenched on the edge of the table until her knuckles paled against the stone.
"This is still neutral ground," she murmured, her voice trembling. "Violence is not allowed."
"I'm not hurting you," I said.
I leaned in close, my mouth near her ear, my free hand braced on the table beside her, keeping my weight steady and controlled.
"I'm asking."
Her tail tightened once around my wrist, then slowly loosened. She swallowed hard, throat bobbing.
"In Lust," she said quietly, almost to herself, "submission after defeat is survival."
"And here?" I asked.
She turned her head just enough to look at me from the corner of her eye. The desire there was raw, unguarded, stripped of bravado.
"Here," she said, "it's choice."
I straightened slightly, permitting her some space. That mattered. Hell understood force. Consent was rarer. More dangerous. More valuable.
"If you walk away now," I said evenly, "nothing changes."
She laughed softly, breathless, a little unsteady. "You're cruel."
"Only when I need to be."
She didn't walk away.
Instead, she shifted fully onto the table and turned to face me. Her small body trembled, breasts rising and falling rapidly, nipples hard and aching in the cool air of the Library. Her tail slid free from my wrist and curled around my waist instead, possessive and needy.
"I don't want to belong to someone weaker," she said. "And I don't want to be alone."
I cupped her face and kissed her. This time she met me eagerly, mouth opening, hands grabbing at my shoulders as if she had been holding herself back through sheer effort. The kiss was messy and hungry. Her teeth scraped my lip. I welcomed the sting.
I broke the kiss only to rest my forehead against hers, breath mingling, tension humming between us.
"Then submit," I said. "To me."
Her response was instant.
"I submit."
The words had barely left her lips before she was pulling me down toward her, tail tightening around my waist, body arching up to meet mine. The Library still didn't intervene. It never would.
She came closer, close enough that her scent replaced the room. It clung to her skin, rich and intimate, heat and something darker beneath it, a promise more than a perfume. My chest brushed against her breasts, the contact unplanned and inevitable, their weight settling there for a moment before she shifted, letting it linger just long enough to be noticed.
Her hands moved with intent then, not shy, not tentative. She stripped me slowly, calmly, fingers grazing skin as fabric was pulled away, letting each layer fall without breaking eye contact. The distance between us collapsed until there was nothing left to remove, nothing left to defer.
She was mine now.
—
Some time later, Rissa was still on top of me.
She had gone completely loose in that unmistakable way that only happened after everything had been drawn out of her. Her red skin was darkened with sweat, a thin sheen clinging stubbornly along her stomach and nestled between her perky mounds, catching the Library's muted light. One of her legs was thrown over mine without any self consciousness, her inner thigh pressed tight against me as if the concept of sitting any other way had slipped from her mind. Her chest rose and fell at an unhurried pace, buds still rigid and far too sensitive, brushing against my chest every time she moved even slightly.
When I slid my hand along the line of her spine, she let out a small sound.
It wasn't just a moan.
But also a subtle, involuntary reminder that she was claimed now, and accepted it fully.
Her tail had wrapped itself around my waist at some point, firm, possessive, and entirely unapologetic about it.
The Library, as always, didn't care.
"So," she murmured, her voice rough and scraped raw. "This is how it feels."
"It is," I said.
She gave a faint nod, her cheek resting against my shoulder. Her fingers latched into my back, clutching it like she expected the floor itself to give way the moment she let go.
"I won't be taken now," she said quietly.
"No," I replied. "You won't."
At that, her body loosened further.
This time, completely.
The change in the air followed a heartbeat later.
Rissa noticed it before I did. Her breathing shifted first, going shallow. Her tail tightened instinctively, then hesitated, caught between clinging harder and pulling away. She lifted her head just enough to peer past my shoulder.
I followed her line of sight.
Lilith stood at the far end of the aisle.
She hadn't announced herself.
She never did.
Her presence was precise and contained, like the moment before a blade made contact. The dress she wore fell flawlessly along her form, severe in its design, the fabric hugging her hips and chest without a single unnecessary flourish. Nothing about the way she dressed was accidental, and nothing about the result could be called modest.
Her eyes moved once.
That was all.
Rissa, seated on my lap.
The way her body was still flushed with heat.
My hand resting openly against the small of her back.
Lilith didn't look away.
"So," she said evenly. "You already decided to begin."
"I didn't rush," I answered. "She came to me."
Rissa straightened just a little, still not leaving my lap, but enough to make herself unmistakably visible. "By Lust's rule," she said. "I chose."
Lilith regarded her in silence for a moment, then stepped forward. Not fast. Not slow. Each step measured, intentional.
"You understand this doesn't grant you authority here," she said to me.
I tilted my head, keeping my eyes on hers. "I didn't claim the Library."
My fingers flexed once against Rissa's skin.
She shivered, her hips shifting before she caught herself and stilled.
"Only what offered itself inside it."
Lilith's gaze dropped for the briefest fraction of a second.
She noticed.
Something tightened behind her eyes, sharp and controlled.
"You are very comfortable for a guest," she said.
"I adapt," I replied. "And you didn't object."
"I don't intervene lightly."
"Or you wanted to see what I'd do."
That earned a pause.
Lilith stepped closer to the table, stopping just short of intruding on personal space. Up close, the restraint she carried felt a pressure rather than distant. Power held back on purpose, like a breath drawn deep and deliberately not released.
Her eyes met mine.
Dark.
Measuring.
"You don't avert your gaze," she observed.
"I'm not intimidated," I said. Then, after a brief beat, "And you noticed."
The corner of her mouth twitched, stopping just short of becoming a smile.
"I am Lilith," she said. "Custodian of Limbo."
I waited.
Her brow creased faintly. "You are supposed to respond."
"I prefer to know who I'm talking to first," I said. My gaze drifted openly, slow enough to be unmistakable, tracing the line of her waist, the rise of her chest, before returning to her eyes. "Titles don't tell me what someone wants."
The tension sharpened, becoming almost tactile.
Rissa shifted on my lap, suddenly aware that she was seated between forces larger than herself. Even so, she didn't move away.
"And what do you think I want?" Lilith asked.
I let a small smile form. Just enough. 'She is testing me,' I thought, the certainty settling comfortably in my chest.
"You came to see if I'd overstep," I said.
"And did you?"
"I'm still sitting where I was allowed."
Silence stretched between us.
Lilith drew in a slow breath, her eyes never leaving mine.
"Then we should speak properly," she said.
"I agree."
Her gaze lingered for another moment before she nodded once.
"We will talk," she said. "Before you go further."
The way she said it made one thing unmistakably clear.
This conversation was not about rules alone.
And whatever followed, it wouldn't remain impersonal for very long.