The Incubus System Chapter 1376. Can I?

The Incubus System Chapter 1376. Can I?

Another pause. A breath.

“Can I?” she asked, voice a little higher, a little soft. “I mean… if I won’t disturb you. You look like you’re stressed enough.”

I chuckled and leaned back against the porcelain edge of the tub, water sloshing gently around me, steam curling up against my cheeks. “Puriel,” I said, eyes half-lidded. “I’m an incubus. You know how to relieve my stress.”

It was a tease. Nothing more.

Well… okay. Maybe a test.

I didn’t think she’d take it seriously. Not really. We’d danced this dance before, traded heat between sheets and sweat. But it was always after something happened. She wasn’t the type to initiate.

But the next second?

I heard the soft whisper of fabric.

The light sound of feet across tile.

And then the door creaked open fully.

She stepped inside.

Already naked.

Wings gone, dismissed back into wherever divine energy goes when it isn’t being holy.

She clutched a towel around her body, but barely. It didn’t really help. Didn’t really hide. If anything, it just made her look more vulnerable, more human.

More real.

Her skin flushed slightly from the warmth of the bathroom, and maybe a little from embarrassment. Her hair was loose, a few strands sticking to her neck. Her breasts pressed gently beneath the towel, her hips curving where the fabric failed to cover her thighs completely.

I didn’t say anything at first.

I wasn’t exactly surprised. We’d done this before. Touched. Sweated. Moaned.

But I was surprised at the way she walked in like she meant it this time.

No hesitation.

Just silent, intentional presence.

She looked at me, eyes flicking down then back up to my face. Her mouth parted like she might say something, then didn’t.

I huffed, smiling slowly. “Well, well… I stand corrected.”

She rolled her eyes lightly, still red in the face. “Don’t ruin it.”

I held out my hand.

“Come on. Join me.”

She nodded. Moved forward.

The towel slipped off before she even got close. She didn’t fumble to grab it.

She just stepped into the tub with quiet grace and settled herself down in my arms, like she belonged there. Like this wasn’t weird or dangerous or tied to a thousand consequences. Just her and me. Warm water. Soft steam. Two beings way too complicated to be allowed to feel this calm.

She rested against my chest, her skin flush against mine. Her breasts pressed gently into me, her arms sliding around my waist beneath the water, and her cheek found the hollow between my collarbone and shoulder.

Yeah. I could feel her body. Every soft line. Every shiver where her thigh brushed mine.

But that wasn’t what hit me.

What hit me was her heart.

It was beating fast. Not scared. Just… exposed.

Vulnerable.

And something deeper settled in my chest.

Because I could feel it. The tenderness in the way she held me. The way she breathed, shallow and slow. The way her fingers skimmed my back like she didn’t want to let go. The way her entire body curled into me like she was scared I might vanish.

It wasn’t lust. Not this time.

It was worry.

It was pity.

No… not pity exactly. Something heavier. A fear.

She was afraid I would become the Eye.

Alone. Forgotten. Trapped between everything and nothing, floating in that border space where no heart could reach.

I swallowed thickly and said nothing for a while.

Neither did she.

Her breath was warm on my skin, her thighs pressed lightly around one of mine, her body tucked against me like we were two puzzle pieces pretending to fit.

Then, quietly, she spoke.

“You scared me today.”

I turned my head just slightly. “Because I killed them?”

“Because you didn’t feel anything after.”

I was quiet again. Let her words echo.

“Because you were willing to accept that no one would ever understand you,” she added, barely above a whisper. “Because you looked ready to disappear.”

I closed my eyes. Rested my chin lightly on the top of her head.

“I was,” I admitted. “For a minute.”

She shifted, sitting up just enough to look me in the eyes, water beading down her chest. “And now?”

I shrugged. “Now I’m not.”

Her fingers touched my face, thumb brushing under my eye. “Don’t become him.”

“The Eye?”

She nodded. “Don’t let their rejection trap you in a place where nothing grows.”

I sighed. “Then tell me what to do,” I tested her.

She shook her head, smiling faintly. “I can’t.”

“Figures,” I muttered.

“But I can stay here,” she said. “While you figure it out. I can remind you that you matter, even if they don’t see it.”

I looked down at her, studied her expression.

And it hit me.

This wasn’t about angel or demon. It wasn’t about guilt or history or power.

She was afraid I’d become empty. That I’d lose myself trying to find a place to belong in a world that didn’t want to make space for me.

That I’d slip so far into survival, I’d forget how to live.

So I reached out. Touched her cheek.

“I won’t disappear,” I said. “Not if you’re still here.”

She leaned into my hand. “Then I’ll be here.”

I smiled.

The tub was warm. Her body was soft against mine. My mind was still a hurricane, but for now, the storm had a quiet eye.

I didn’t feel saved.

But I didn’t feel lost either.

“Just… don’t float off like some cryptic eyeball in a void, okay?” she said, teasing lightly.

I chuckled. “No promises.”

Due to my answer, she straightened in the water, her body still wrapped around mine, but her posture shifting. Serious now. Her arms slid from my waist, hands bracing gently on my chest. She leaned back just enough to look at me properly. Really look at me. Her eyes weren’t soft this time. They were steady. Focused.

“I’m serious,” she said.

The edge in her voice wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t delicate either. It cut through the haze in my brain sharper than the heat of the bathwater or the steam fogging the mirror behind her.