The Incubus System Chapter 1511. The Demon Hunter's First Love I
The Incubus System Chapter 1511. The Demon Hunter's First Love I
Nathan’s PoV
She smiled sweetly. “Your punishment for losing to a chair.”
Nathan stared at her. For a few seconds, his brain refused to accept any information beyond the woman’s face.
Which was strange.
Very strange.
Nathan had faced demons before. He had trained himself against temptation.
Against demonic seduction.
Against beauty used as a weapon.
But this woman?
She was not using anything.
At least… Nathan didn’t think she was.
She simply stood there on the rooftop with the noon sunlight catching in her dark hair, her expression somewhere between sweet and mocking, her eyes sharp enough to cut open a lie before it was spoken. Her face was beautiful in a dangerous way. Not soft like a flower. Not pure like an angel. More like a blade someone had wrapped in silk and called a woman.
Beautiful. Too beautiful… The kind of beautiful that made his ribs feel tight.
Nathan blinked.
His heart beat harder.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
What… was this?
He had never felt something like this before.
Not in battle.
Not when standing before power.
This wasn’t fear.
This was worse.
This had warmth.
His throat moved.
Was this what people called love at first sight?
No.
Impossible.
Absurd!
Nathan was not that kind of man.
He was disciplined. Focused. Devoted. He had missions, principles, justice, enemies, responsibilities. Men like him did not collapse emotionally because a beautiful woman smiled at them after apparently rescuing them from losing to furniture.
But his body disagreed.
His knees weakened.
He almost fell again.
The woman’s eyes widened. “Hey—”
She caught him.
Sort of.
A little late.
Her arms came around him, but his weight pulled her down half a step, and her shoulder bumped awkwardly against his chest. For a moment, Nathan had to grip her upper arm to keep both of them from collapsing.
She was warm.
He noticed that first.
Then he noticed the faint scent around her. Something clean, expensive, and dark. Not perfume exactly. More like night air after rain, mixed with something sweet enough to be dangerous.
His heart betrayed him again.
-Thump!
The woman’s brows twitched. “You’re heavy.”
Nathan tried to stand straighter, failed, and grimaced. “I am injured.”
“You lost to a chair.”
He should have been offended.
Actually, he was offended.
But somehow, her insult slid under his skin differently. It didn’t feel like mockery from an enemy. It felt like being teased by someone who had already decided he was not worth hating.
Nathan’s ears felt hot.
He looked away quickly.
The rooftop wavered under his vision. His body still felt wrong. Empty in a place he could not name. Like something had been there, bright and powerful, and now only soreness remained.
He couldn’t remember clearly.
There was light.
A sword.
A wing?
No. No, that didn’t make sense.
He remembered drinking.
Apparently.
A club.
A chair.
Humiliating.
But somewhere inside that fog, another feeling existed.
Loss.
Sharp, aching loss.
He pushed it down. “Let me lean on you,” he said.
The words came out before he fully thought them through.
The woman looked at him.
A long look.
Nathan kept his expression serious.
For practical reasons, of course.
He was injured. She was assisting him. Leaning on her would stabilize his movement and reduce risk of falling. This was not because her arm around him made his chest feel strange.
Absolutely not.
The woman hesitated. Then clicked her tongue. “Fine. But don’t get weird.”
“I am never weird.”
She stared at him.
Nathan stared back.
For some reason, her lips twitched. “Sure.”
She shifted under his arm, letting him lean more of his weight on her shoulder. She wasn’t tall enough to support him comfortably, and based on her build, she wasn’t an athlete either. Slim. Feminine. Soft in places that made Nathan immediately look somewhere else because his mind was loyal to discipline even if his eyes were apparently traitors.
Supporting a high-level demon hunter like him clearly required more than simple strength.
Yet somehow, she managed.
Barely.
With a lot of quiet grumbling.
They moved toward the rooftop door.
Each step hurt.
Nathan hated that.
His body felt weaker than it should. His chest ached. His shoulder burned. His limbs were heavy, as if he had overdrawn his energy badly.
Had he really fought a chair?
No.
No chair could do this.
Unless it was a demonic chair.
Possible.
Demon furniture existed.
He made a mental note to investigate clubs with suspicious chairs later.
The woman dragged. No, escorted him down the stairs. She took the steps carefully, though her mouth kept muttering things under her breath.
Nathan caught pieces.
“Should’ve left him…”
“Responsibility reproduces…”
“Stupid justice furniture victim…”
He frowned. “What are you saying?”
“Encouragement.”
“That did not sound encouraging.”
“You’re alive. Be grateful.”
Nathan looked at her face again.
Bad idea.
The stairwell light softened her features. From this angle, her lashes looked longer, her lips calmer, her profile almost unreal. There was something strangely familiar about her, but every time Nathan tried to catch it, his thoughts slipped away.
Did she tell him her name yet?
No.
He didn’t remember.
He should ask.
But asking might sound interested.
Which he was not.
Obviously.
They reached the lower floor and stepped out into the college corridor.
Noon had filled the campus with movement.
Students walked everywhere, carrying bags, drinks, books, gossip, and the blissful ignorance of people who did not know a demon hunter had possibly been defeated by furniture in the same morning.
The moment Nathan and the woman emerged, heads turned.
Mostly male heads.
Nathan noticed.
Immediately.
A group of male students near the vending machines went quiet. One of them stopped mid-drink with the straw still in his mouth. Another nudged his friend. Several looked at Nathan with confusion, then quickly ignored him and returned their gaze to the woman beside him.
No. Not beside him.
Supporting him.
Nathan’s hand tightened slightly over her shoulder.
He told himself it was for balance.
The woman noticed and glanced at him. “Your grip.”
He loosened it immediately. “Sorry.”