Succubi Chapter 240. My Price is Higher Now

Succubi Chapter 240. My Price is Higher Now

The trip back was quieter than when we left.

Not awkward quiet.

Thinking quiet.

Alyra sat beside me, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, phone in hand.

Her face had gone cold. Business cold.

The kind of expression that made me think somewhere, someone was about to get destroyed through text message.

Her fingers moved quickly over the screen.

One chat.

Then another.

Then another.

Sometimes she paused, read something, smiled faintly with zero warmth, then typed again.

Not academy.

I could tell.

Academy messages had a certain official stiffness. This looked more personal.

Parents maybe?

Relatives?

House Veyne?

Banquet gossip network?

Then her phone vibrated.

Call.

The name flashed too fast for me to read clearly, but I saw the way her eyes hardened.

She denied it.

Two seconds later, it rang again.

Denied.

Again.

Denied.

Ah.

Cassian.

Clearly.

I leaned back against the seat, watching her reject the call for the fourth time.

“I can talk to him.”

Alyra didn’t look up. “No.”

“For free.”

That made her glance at me.

I lifted one hand. “Limited-time charity.”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I can be very polite.”

“That is exactly why I refuse.”

I smiled faintly. “Fair.”

She turned the phone silent and placed it face-down on her lap. “This one is between him and me.”

I looked at her.

The passing lamps painted gold stripes across her face, then shadow, then gold again. She looked beautiful in that quiet, dangerous way. But there was something else there too.

Old exhaustion.

The kind people carried when a name had too many memories attached.

I didn’t like it. So naturally, my mouth moved before my brain reviewed the danger.

“You…” I paused. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

Alyra turned her head toward me.

Slowly.

For a moment, the car felt even quieter.

Then she said, “No.”

Clean.

No hesitation.

But I kept looking.

Because “no” could mean many things. No, but it still hurts. No, but I miss who I thought he was. No, but my pride refuses to admit anything else.

Alyra seemed to understand the question I didn’t ask. “I didn’t refuse to let you answer him because I was protecting him,” she said.

“Then why?”

“For you.”

That made me pause.

“For me?”

She nodded once. “Cassian knows how to drag people into ugly conversations. He would insult you, bait you, flatter you, then try to offer something better than I gave.”

I blinked.

“He was trying to take you to his side,” she said.

“Cheap trick. It won’t work.”

“With men who like being chosen by powerful families?” Her mouth curved without humor. “It work.”

I snorted softly. “He should’ve offered snacks first.”

Alyra’s eyes softened with amusement despite herself. “Is that your price?”

“My price is higher now. I won a duel, danced, and prevented a green tea ambush.”

Her lips twitched. “Green tea ambush?”

“Yes. Deadly variety.”

Alyra finally laughed, soft and low.

The cold in her face cracked a little.

I looked out the window for a moment, then back at her. “You’re not afraid?”

“Of Cassian?”

“No. Of them finding out. That you were one of the contestants in the underground duel.” I tilted my head. “Our video went viral, remember?”

Alyra’s smile returned. This time, mischievous. “No. Cassian only knows me as a spoiled noble girl.”

I frowned. “Spoiled?”

“A decorative one,” she said lightly. “A pretty thing raised in a mansion. Elegant. Expensive. Harmless.”

I stared at her.

Harmless.

This woman?

The banshee who fought me in the underground duel and weaponized her body, voice, and movement like a seductive battlefield curse?

Harmless?

I almost laughed. “They don’t know you can fight? And you prefer that?”

“Yes.”

I frowned deeper. “Why?”

Alyra leaned back, eyes drifting toward the dark window. “Nobles prefer elegant women. Trophy wives. Women who can smile at banquets, hold a family image, give heirs, and make their husbands look successful.”

Her voice was calm. “They don’t like women who can embarrass them in a duel.”

“Sounds like their problem.”

“It becomes mine when families negotiate.”

I understood then.

Her fighting skill wasn’t a weakness in reality.

It was a weakness in their market.

Because noble men with big egos didn’t want a wife who could beat them, outmaneuver them, or refuse to remain ornamental. They wanted beauty with silence. Intelligence hidden beneath obedience. Strength folded small enough not to threaten them at dinner.

“My fighting skills,” Alyra said softly, “are a huge minus for them.”

The words made something in my chest tighten.

I thought about Evan Drakos, poor Pride demon hiding insecurity behind clean uniforms and posture. I thought about Alyra Veyne, dangerous banshee noble hiding strength behind silk and a spoiled-girl reputation.

Different cages.

Same annoying architecture.

“That’s stupid,” I said.

Alyra looked at me.

I shrugged. “A wife who can fight sounds useful. What if assassins come?”

“That is what guards are for.”

“What if guards betray you?”

“That is what poison is for.”

I paused. “…Noble marriage sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

“Then don’t marry a coward.”

Her expression shifted. “Is that advice?”

“It’s free.”

“Your free service is rare.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Alyra smiled, but she didn’t look away.

The air inside the car changed again.

Her hand moved from her lap to the seat between us. Not touching me. Just closer. Her phone lay forgotten now. The soft light inside the car caught the red in her lips, the curve of her shoulder, the way her dress rested against her body after all the movement of dancing and duel-watching.

She leaned slightly toward me.

“You were angry just now,” she said.

“I wasn’t.” I looked at her.

The seduction shifted in.

Alyra didn’t throw herself at me or whisper something ridiculous like “belong to me tonight” again. That was the office tactic. Predator circling prey. Testing me.

This was different.

She let silence do half the work. Her fingers brushed the edge of my sleeve.

“Your arms caused quite a stir,” she murmured.

I deadpanned. “You noticed?”

“Everyone noticed.”

My body stilled.

Her fingers slid lightly over the rolled fabric near my wrist. “Can I afford you?”

The touch was small. Harmless if described in a report. Her fingertips moved with deliberate softness, tracing the edge of my cuff, then pausing over the pulse at my wrist like she wanted to feel how calm I was.

I was not calm.

I was professionally composed.