Ch. 84 – So NOW You’ll Carry Me

Rhys stood up from the bed, or at least, what little was left of his shattered spirit after the continuous sensory gauntlet.

His mind was eerily quiet now—no frantic internal debates, no commentary from his shoulder companions. His soul felt bruised, battered, and pulled by a singular, overwhelming urge: he just wanted to go home.

In heavy, total silence, he gathered his discarded clothes and began dressing. The second he moved toward the bedroom door, Seraphina was up. In a flash of dark feathers, she flew over to block the doorway. Shula rose gracefully from the sheets right after, stretching like a satisfied cat, her bronze skin glowing with an unbothered, victorious smile.

Seraphina looked anxious at first, her pitch-black eyes wide as if terrified Rhys was about to walk out and disappear forever. But then, as fast as a light switch, she forced her old, confident hero persona back into place—the imposing, unyielding Obsidian he used to know on the battlefield.

Except the words tumbling out of her mouth didn't match the stoic facade at all.

She began acting like the depraved, bound-crossing events of the afternoon were completely normal. "Now that you've accepted me, Rhys... I'm more than happy," she rambled quickly, her usual cold, calculated tone completely gone, replaced by a desperate, rapid-fire pitch. "We can do this at your house, my house, or I can just book a high-end hotel suite. It doesn't matter to me."

Rhys just stared at her in deadpan, hollow disbelief.

Seraphina kept going, her voice mounting with uncharacteristic excitement. "After tonight... this is honestly the absolute best thing that could have happened to us. Our child is going to be magnificent. I just... I just have to go tell my husband."

The fog in Rhys’s brain suddenly shattered.

Did she... did she just say what the hell I think she said?! Rhys thought, his jaw tightening as the horror of her words sank in.

"Hold on," Rhys interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through her rambling like a blade. "What do you mean, tell your husband? Have you not even brought up a single word of this to him?"

Over by the bed, Shula rose to her feet, smirking quietly as she watched the drama unfold. In the doorway shadow behind Seraphina, the dark, raspy form of Omen stepped back into Rhys's mental view. Rhys didn't even give the shadow the dignity of a glance—he was still furious that the dark persona had abandoned him when he actually needed tactical control on that bed.

Seraphina didn't miss a single beat. "Well, I still have to tell him, obviously, but... he'll understand," she stated dismissively, her pitch-black eyes flashing with a sudden, condescending edge. She offered him a knowing, haughty smirk, her eyes darting down to lingering fixate on Rhys’s groin. "Besides... it's not like he really has any room to argue with me anyway."

The sheer, callous entitlement of her words—and the way she looked at him—sent a jolt of pure revulsion straight through Rhys's blood.

"Just a cold bitch, huh?"

The harsh, venomous thought didn't stay inside his head. Rhys’s physical lips blurted the sentence out loud before his brain could filter it.

The dark figure in the doorway vanished into thin air. Seraphina flinched as if struck across the face, taking a sharp step back, her pitch-black eyes wide with absolute stun.

"You are completely out of your mind!" Rhys berated her, his voice rising with raw, unfiltered disgust. "How can you stand there and act like it's nothing to just step all over your husband, trash your marriage, and actively try to ruin my life with Lira?!"

From behind him, Shula slipped her arms around his waist. She was already fully dressed and magically immaculately cleaned up, purring softly against his back, thoroughly enjoying the intense drama Rhys was unleashing. Rhys didn't even bother shoving her off; he was too locked into his rage.

Seraphina looked uncharacteristically tiny in that moment, her massive black wings drooping as her posture collapsed. She looked up at him, a flush of deep embarrassment rising on her dark cheeks.

"Then... then why did you take me on the bed just moments ago?!" Seraphina blurted out, her voice dropping into a shy, vulnerable, almost painful confession. "I... I've never felt that way in my entire life, Rhys. That was... it was the first time I've ever actually climaxed. Ever."

FUCK! Rhys screamed at himself internally, a spike of immense guilt hitting him like a physical blow. I didn't really have a choice! My body was literally operating on auto-pilot!

Rhys stood stunned by her admission, but fortunately for his sanity, he didn't have to voice an answer. He spun around in Shula’s grasp, looking down at the Ifrit socialite wrapping him up.

"Take me home. Right now," Rhys demanded flatly. "It’s already pitch black outside."

How much time has even passed?! Rhys panicked internally, realizing he had lost all sense of hours while trapped inside her domain.

Shula offered him a soft, deeply satisfied smile. "As you wish, my sweet donor," she purred.

She released him and glided toward the grand staircase, leaving a quiet, desperate Seraphina to scramble after them. Seraphina trailed behind Rhys like a shadow down the hall, desperate to secure a single promise that she would see him again.

When they finally stepped through the estate's massive circular door into the cool night air, Rhys froze. The sky above was dark, filled with glittering stars.

"What the hell?" Rhys mumbled, baffled. "The sun was literally just setting when we got here!"

Shula let out a musical, delight-filled laugh, turning to glance at him over her shoulder. "Time is a fluid concept inside my lamp, Rhys. I can make the daylight last as long as I desire while we are inside."

Rhys’s heart dropped into his stomach. He needed to get home to Lira immediately.

Seraphina caught up to them on the marble driveway, her eyes pleading. "Rhys, please... just answer me."

"I don't have time for this," Rhys snapped, turning away from her toward Shula. "I need to go."

Shula gave him a knowing, sharp smile. "If you want to get home quickly, I can take you in my flying transport... or," she purred, casually gesturing behind him, "you could take a ride with Obsidian."

Seraphina perked up instantly, looking at Rhys with desperate expectation.

A sudden, bitter memory flared in Rhys’s mind from their old hero days. Seraphina had hated giving people aerial rides, making it a strict rule to never carry anyone unless they were actively dying. In fact, Rhys vividly remembered a brutal mission where he was bleeding out and dying on the pavement, and Seraphina had straight-up left him on the ground to "go handle the incoming villains," leaving Marcus to fly in at the last second and carry Rhys to a medical transport.

Rhys sneered, looking at Seraphina with cold bitterness. Oh, so NOW you'll happily fly me somewhere? Of all damn times.

His practical side, however, calculated the math instantly. Shula’s car would take time to navigate traffic patterns, but Seraphina’s raw celestial speed could cross the city in seconds.

"Fine," Rhys growled sternly at Seraphina.

Then, remembering the business venue, Rhys turned back to Shula. "Send me the details for the catering venue tomorrow—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Shula surged forward, catching his lips in one final, deep, lingering kiss that left his head spinning once more. "Goodbye for now, my love," she hummed against his mouth before pulling back with a triumphant smile.

Rhys didn't say another word. He turned on his heel, walking straight up to Seraphina.

For the first time in her life, the tall, imposing Aasimar opened her arms wide to him like she had been waiting a decade for the privilege. Reluctantly, Rhys stepped into her hold, wrapping his arms tight around her neck as her massive pitch-black wings beat against the night air. With a sudden, explosive surge of celestial power, they shot up into the dark sky, speeding toward his neighborhood.

Rhys kept his eyes locked on the sprawling, glittering city grid far below, trying desperately to tune out the reality of the flight. But ignoring Seraphina was impossible. Her muscular chest was pressed flush against him, her breathing hitching in rapid gasps that had nothing to do with physical exertion, her heart hammering like a war drum against his ribs, and her warm hands subtly sliding beneath the hem of his shirt as they flew.

Rhys simply closed his eyes and endured it, keeping his mind hyper-focused on one singular goal: his home, and his wife.

Within two minutes, Seraphina dove through the clouds, touching down with feather-light precision onto the asphalt right in front of Rhys’s driveway.

The instant her feet hit the ground, Rhys broke out of her grasp in a blinding flash, taking three quick steps back toward his porch.

"Rhys, wait!" Seraphina called out, her voice trembling with intense vulnerability. "Please... just tell me. Will you say yes? Will you give me a child?"

The ambient air around the dark porch visibly shifted as Rhys spun around, his eyes flashing with lethal steel as he raised a finger to his lips. "Keep your damn voice down," he warned in a harsh, deadly whisper. "You'll hear from me."

Seraphina’s dark face lit up with radiant, pathetic joy, mistaking his tactical brush-off for genuine hope. Rhys, however, had absolute zero intention of ever speaking to or seeing her again for as long as he lived.

He turned on his heel, marched up the steps, and unlocked his front door.

The house was eerily, unnervingly quiet.

Rhys stepped into the entryway, closing the door behind him—and froze as the bizarre, utterly chaotic scene in his living room unfolded before his eyes.

Sitting on the couch was Lira. She looked intensely concerned—but to Rhys’s immediate confusion, her anxious gaze wasn't directed toward the front door, nor did she look like she had been worrying about him.

Standing near the kitchen archway was Marcus, his tall hero frame tense, an equally strange, grim expression plastered across his face.

Sitting at the dining table was Durin—Rhea’s dwarf husband. The stout man looked entirely deflated, his broad shoulders slumped, staring blankly down at a steaming cup of tea in his hands. But the exact microsecond the front door clicked shut and Durin caught sight of Rhys, the dying ashes of a violent fury instantly reignited in his eyes. He slammed his teacup onto the saucer, his knuckles turning white.

And then, sitting comfortably in the armchair in the corner of the room, sipping a glass of expensive wine... was Vespera.

The feline loan shark looked all too pleased, her tail swaying lazily behind her as her sharp, predatory eyes locked onto Rhys’s exhausted frame, her lips curling into a wicked, triumphant grin.