CHAPTER 151: THE HEARTS GROW FONDER

Aelin

The room was dim, lit only by soft, flickering candlelight that cast golden shadows along the walls. The scent of warmed amber and lavender drifted through the air, clinging to the silk curtains and polished marble. I sank slowly onto the cushioned massage bed, grateful that at least the towel wrapped around me gave some illusion of comfort.

I pulled my hair to one side and let it fall gently off my shoulder. The silence was soft and comfortable—just the hush of a room meant to lull every sense. My pulse still hadn’t settled. Ariston and I had pulled off the bluff, but the real game was only beginning.

I still couldn’t believe I was doing something so bold and daring.

The past me could have never imagined doing something like this. Not the weak, timid Aelin.

Along with the thought, came the realization that so much had changed in my life. I had started to become a different person.

A type of person that I liked myself to be.

!!

I heard the door creak open behind me.

The succubus who had escorted me in had already taken her leave. So this... this must be the masseuse.

Footsteps padded softly across the room. Slow. Deliberate. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, telling myself I was being ridiculous. But there was something about those footsteps—quiet, yes, but with a weight behind them.

Then the silence stretched. I shifted slightly on the table, lying on my front, my cheek against the warm linens. "Is something wrong?" I asked, voice softer than I expected. "You’re awfully quiet."

Still, no words came. But I heard the soft pop of a cork being removed, followed by the gentle glide of oil being warmed between palms.

Hmmm

Maybe this one is just the quiet type.

My breath hitched as the first touch landed between my shoulder blades. Firm, wide hands—much larger than I’d expected. Larger than any female hand I’d ever known.

No, I shouldn’t think like that.

I frowned slightly. Demons come in all sizes, I reminded myself. And demons didn’t exactly follow the same physical rules as humans, so I shouldn’t think how her hands feel odd to me.

But

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The hands were rough, calloused, practiced. They pressed down in long, slow strokes that melted through every inch of tension in my upper back.

MY GOD!

Knuckles dug in with perfect precision, thumbs carving out knots I hadn’t even realized were there. My breath deepened with each motion, my body relaxing in ways it hadn’t in forever

I had never gotten a massage before, so I never knew how relaxing it could be.

Maybe it was the incense. Or the way the oil warmed my skin just so. But my thoughts started to float, drift—

Until those hands moved lower, not inappropriately, but with a confidence that struck a chord deep within me.

These weren’t casual touches. Whoever this was... had held a sword or a weapon, or something along those lines, far more often than a bottle of oil. They knew what they were doing. Every press of palm and sweep of fingers seemed to pull the weight of the world off my shoulders.

Still... it nagged at me.

Big hands. Too big.

I opened my mouth to say something—maybe to ask their name—but stopped myself. Did I really want to know? Or was there something almost safer about the mystery? About being here, half-covered, vulnerable in a controlled way, trusting this stranger who somehow... made me feel safe.

I exhaled slowly, letting go of the question and giving in to the sensation. My body loosened, my mind floating somewhere between waking and sleep.

But as the massage continued, that little whisper of curiosity flickered stronger.

The massage was... divine.

Whoever was touching me had the hands of a warrior and the instinct of a healer. Each stroke was firm, rough in a way that ignited a current under my skin—but not uncomfortable. Just powerful. Every motion grounded me, reminded me of my body, my breath, my exhaustion.

But the more I lay there, the more that strange feeling crept in.

These were not the hands of a stranger.

They felt... familiar.

Too familiar.

A flicker of suspicion prickled along the back of my neck, and I tensed despite the warmth lulling me into comfort. I opened my eyes and slowly lifted my head, twisting around with the towel clutched against my chest.

!!!!

And nearly choked on my breath.

"Draegon?" I gasped.

He stood there beside me, shirtless, the bottle of oil still in his hands. His violet eyes narrowed with something far more intense than curiosity. His jaw was tight, and his gaze pinned me like a blade to a wall.

"You seemed to enjoy it," he said flatly, his voice sharp.

"What?" I honestly didn’t expect him to be my masseuse. I didn’t think this was possible

"The massage," He clarified, "You seemed to enjoy it a lot."

I blinked, still trying to gather my scattered thoughts. "I... I did." My voice came out small, unsure. "Why wouldn’t I?" It was insanely good after all.

His scowl deepened. "Would you have enjoyed it if it were another man?"

The ridiculousness of the question nearly made me confused but then I got it. The plan had worked.. But the seriousness in his tone, the fire barely restrained in his eyes, made the smile tugging at my lips all the more dangerous. I smothered it and said as innocently as I could, "Why would another man be massaging me?"

His eyes flickered in confusion. "Because... you booked an incubi massage."

I tilted my head, amused now. "Yes, I did. But I specifically requested a succubus."

That stopped him cold.

He blinked once. "You... what?"

I raised an eyebrow. "The forms ask for gender preferences. I asked for a female. I wasn’t exactly planning anything scandalous." I looked at him meaningfully.

His lips parted, but no words came out. He then tried again, "But their massages... they" He stopped again.

I let the silence stretch before I added, "They only go as far as the client allows them. I picked the most basic package. Just muscle tension relief. Nothing else."

"Nothing else?" He looked at me and I picked the paper up from the side table and showed it to him

"Yes, I know the things they can offer, but I only wanted a simple massage."

Draegon’s shoulders visibly dropped, like someone had removed a hundred pounds from his back. He let out a long breath, dragging a hand through his hair.

He looked at the services they offered and in the basic package, there was nothing sexual,"I thought..." he muttered, then shook his head. "Never mind."

I sat up on the table, clutching the towel tighter around me, though the embarrassment was quickly being replaced by amusement. "Why did you come in here though?"

He looked at me, "..." But it took him a few seconds before he spoke. His jaw clenched again. "I didn’t like the idea of you getting touched by someone like that," he admitted, voice low.

Warmth blossomed in my chest, dangerous and delicate.

"You stormed in here just because you were jealous?" I couldn’t help myself but ask.

"I stormed in here because I was furious," he corrected, but his tone had lost its edge. "Then I saw you lying there, and—" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I couldn’t let anyone else touch you." His voice softened.

For a moment, the room was quiet again, just the candles flickering and our breaths mingling in the charged space between us.

My voice was quiet when I said, "You could’ve just asked me."

But Draegon didn’t smile. He didn’t scoff or roll his eyes or make a clever remark.

Instead, his voice came out raw. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

I blinked.

He wasn’t accusing me. He wasn’t angry anymore. Rather, he looked a bit vulnerable.

"I thought you didn’t know what an incubi massage was. And when you said you and Ariston were going together—" His jaw flexed. "I was beyond worried."

The words were simple.

But they hit harder than I expected.

Something inside my chest twisted, a tight, fluttering ache that made it hard to breathe for a moment. I stared at him, at this powerful man, who had nearly died not long ago... and now looked at me like he didn’t know what he’d do if something happened again.

A warmth bloomed in my heart. A softness I’d been trying to push aside until I was stronger, more sure of everything.

But God, if he only knew.

If he only knew how deeply I’d come to care for him in so little time.

I swallowed, glancing away before he could see too much in my eyes.

One day, maybe—one day, when I was stronger, when I had full control of my magic, when I could stand beside him not as someone to be protected but someone who could protect—

One day I’d tell him I loved him.

And maybe, by some miracle...

He would tell me he loved me too.