Chapter 37 – A Basic Demon Right
He cleared his throat dramatically.
"One: No apocalypse."
Ticked the air.
"Two: No world domination—tempting, but no."
Tick!
"Three: No initiation of doomsday-level contracts or provocations unless provoked first—which I wasn’t."
Tick!
"Also, I’m not the one holding your holy trumpets, so don’t look at me like I’m here to start Revelations: Remix Edition. That’s your department. Go bug the Horsemen or whoever’s on trumpet duty this century."
Silence.
A beat.
Two.
Then the eye spoke again.
"We detected you killed three of us. No report was filed. Explain."
Lux smirked darkly, unfazed.
"Oh, now you wanna talk about that?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Last evening, I got jumped by a trio of winged idiots trying to smite me before I could even get my dinner."
The eye pulsed, a wave of energy rippling through the air.
"They tried to break all my active contracts. Nullify my deals. Basically, kill me. You know how illegal that is under the 8th Heaven-Mortal Demonic Accord? That’s at least four infractions."
He took another sip.
"And I didn’t even retaliate that hard," he added innocently, a mock pout playing on his lips. "Okay, fine. I killed all of them. But hey—I held back, and I tried to negotiate with them. Twice. But they didn’t care."
Silence again.
Lux raised a brow.
"Want me to file a report? I will. I will write a passive-aggressive email to your higher-ups with timestamps and body cam footage. Don’t test me."
The eye blinked once.
Then the rift—slowly—began to close.
Lux watched it narrow like the last page of a boring meeting being stamped closed.
Before it vanished completely, the voice spoke one last time.
"...Monitoring will continue."
"Good," Lux said, lifting his cup. "Make sure you spell my name right in the records. Vaelthorn with an ae. I’m not a Valthorn. That guy’s a debt collector from Lust Region and his vibes are weird."
And with that—
The rift vanished.
The sky returned to its normal shade of summer blue.
The city resumed pretending nothing cosmic just happened.
Lux stood alone on the rooftop.
Still shirtless.
Still smug.
Still sipping his espresso like he hadn’t just sassed a skyscraper-sized angelic eyeball out of existence.
He sighed contently.
"I love summer."
Then he turned to go back inside.
Time to wake up Naomi. Maybe make her breakfast.
Or maybe...
Round seven.
Lux grinned like a man with no regrets and all the time in the world.
He padded barefoot back into the suite, coffee still in hand, steam curling up like some holy offering to the gods of caffeine and afterglow. The curtains swayed in the lazy summer air. The bed was a mess—pillows everywhere, blankets kicked into some kind of luxurious pile of sin, and in the middle of it all?
Naomi.
Still asleep. Still glowing faintly like her skin hadn’t quite decided whether to stop radiating divine-tinged sex magic or not.
He stood at the edge of the bed, watching her with that same amused reverence like she was a priceless painting someone accidentally left in a room full of sinners.
Lux leaned down, one knee on the mattress.
"Naomi..." he whispered, his voice low and way too close to sinful again.
She shifted slightly, groaning into the pillow.
"Hey," he said again, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "You awake?"
One eye cracked open. Then the other.
"...Morning," she mumbled, voice husky, soft, dangerous.
Lux kissed her.
Just once. Light. Teasing. A ’don’t make me drag you back under’ kind of kiss.
Naomi groaned into his mouth and grabbed his wrist.
"You’re trouble," she muttered.
"True," he grinned, "but I make up for it in charm."
"You make up for it in something," she replied, pulling him closer again.
Another kiss. Slower this time.
Yeah.
Round seven was back on the table.
Until she pulled away and muttered, "I’m hungry."
"Same," Lux said, already moving his lips to her collarbone.
"I meant for actual food," she said, giggling now as she pushed his face away.
Lux smirked and leaned back. "So... breakfast in bed?"
Naomi stretched, a long languid movement that made his brain malfunction for a second. "Tempting," she said, "but no. I need real sunlight. Real food. And pants."
He sighed dramatically, flopping onto the mattress like she just shattered his dreams.
"You’re cruel."
"I’m classy," she corrected, already slipping out of bed and walking—naked—toward the wardrobe like a goddess who knew exactly what she’d done to his sanity.
Lux stared.
"I don’t know what’s for breakfast, but it’s not gonna top that view," he muttered.
Naomi glanced over her shoulder. Smirked. "Get dressed, Vaelthorn."
He pulled himself together—sloppily. Some dark slacks. A black button-down he didn’t bother buttoning properly. His hair? Still a little wild. Collar askew. Shirt half-tucked. Like someone who clearly didn’t have a job today.
And that, honestly?
That was the real luxury.
They stepped into the elevator together—Naomi in a sleek, simple navy dress, lips glossed, hair tied in a soft bun that still screamed "I got laid and now I’m glowing." Lux beside her, looking like a very expensive disaster.
She glanced at his shirt. "Did you even try?"
"I tried once," he said, sipping his coffee. "Then I stopped. I’m on vacation. Let me live."
The elevator doors opened onto the VIP restaurant in the lobby.
Not too crowded.
Weekday morning.
People had jobs.
Lux didn’t.
Not right now.
And as he watched them—briefcases, rushed texts, half-drunk lattes—he felt something he hadn’t in a long time.
Vindicated.
Because once upon a time, he was the one in suits, juggling infernal contracts and celestial mergers. Watching couples brunch while he crunched numbers and whispered spells to fix reality before lunch.
But now?
Now he was the guy on vacation, walking into a five-star breakfast spot with a hot heiress, a wrinkled shirt, and a stupidly satisfied grin.
He exhaled. Grinned again.
Naomi raised a brow at him as they found a quiet table near the glass.
"You look happy."
[You should stop grinning. A break is a basic human right.]
[Correction: A basic demon right too. But you technically didn’t have it.]
Lux coughed.
"Uh, yeah. I mean..." He pointed toward the buffet. "They’ve got good coffee over there."
[Lame excuse.]