The Incubus System Chapter 1547. Not Worth My Energy

The Incubus System Chapter 1547. Not Worth My Energy

A small smile finally touched my mouth. “It's a dead end for me. And I don't think it's worth my energy anymore.”

That felt strangely peaceful to admit. I'd spent enough of myself looking upward. There were people beside me who deserved that attention far more. Everyone who had accepted me without requiring an eternal trial first.

“Rather than thinking about them…” I murmured, “I'd rather think about you guys. The people who actually value me.”

That was where my energy belonged. Not with strangers waiting for me to fail. With the people who would notice if I didn't come home.

I leaned closer.

Emma didn't move away.

My lips brushed hers, and I let my tongue teasingly touch her lower lip once.

Immediately, one finger pressed against my mouth.

I blinked.

Emma pushed me gently backward. “No.”

I stared at her.

Her expression was affectionate but firm. “You need to rest, naughty incubus.”

I caught her wrist lightly, though I made no attempt to remove her finger. “You're rejecting me in a shower?”

“Yes.”

Brutal.

Her thumb brushed my cheek. “You've had enough sex for one night.”

I considered protesting.

Then I looked into her eyes.

She was taking care of me again.

I released her wrist and allowed my head to rest against the tile.

“That sounds sad,” I murmured. “But fine.”

Emma’s expression softened. “I’ll help you bathe.”

My eyes returned to hers. That sounded considerably less safe than she seemed to realize. Or perhaps she realized perfectly well and simply trusted me to behave.

She reached for the soap without another word and began helping me wash away the remnants of the night. There was nothing deliberately seductive about the way she touched me. Her movements were gentle, almost domestic, carefully working over my shoulders and arms while warm water carried everything away.

Yet that simplicity affected me.

Being touched by a woman I loved was already dangerous territory for an incubus.

Being cared for by her? That was torture of an entirely different kind.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the water.

Emma’s hands moved across my shoulders.

I breathed slowly. This was fine.

Her fingers brushed my neck. Still fine.

She moved behind me. Less fine.

My entire existence had apparently been designed to interpret affection as an invitation to become unreasonable.

But I behaved.

Mostly.

I stole a kiss when she stepped around me again.

Emma pulled back and gave me a look.

I put on my most innocent expression.

It failed immediately.

Her eyes narrowed.

I kissed her cheek instead.

That earned me another look.

When her hands returned to my shoulders, mine settled briefly at her waist, drawing her a little closer before she calmly removed them.

I sighed. Apparently the woman had developed immunity. Maybe that was what happened when someone spent enough time around an incubus. They developed resistance. Still, I couldn't bring myself to feel frustrated.

There was something soothing about this. The closeness without urgency. Her fingers moving through my wet hair.

For those few minutes, I let myself exist inside something smaller.

Something warmer.

Just Emma washing the blood, alcohol, perfume, and remnants of a long night from my skin while I occasionally stole affection like someone who hadn't spent the last few hours surrounded by it.

Emma eventually rinsed the last of the soap away and reached outside the shower.

A towel hit me directly in the chest. I caught it.

“Dry yourself and get dressed,” she said. “Your tea is on the table.”

I looked at the towel. Then at her. There was absolutely no room for negotiation in that expression. I smiled faintly. “Yes, ma’am.”

I stepped away from the shower and dried myself slowly.

The bathroom mirror had fogged completely now, leaving only vague silhouettes behind the condensation. Steam filled the room, warm against my freshly washed skin.

I rubbed the towel through my hair.

My mind felt clearer. There was far too much waiting for me tomorrow for that. But quieter.

I lowered the towel and raised my hand, ready to snap my fingers and summon clothes through my demonic power.

Then I noticed Emma through the steam.

And stopped.

She remained beneath the shower.

The blurred glass and thick steam softened her silhouette until there was nothing provocative about it, only the familiar outline of someone who had become important to me.

My hand lowered. For some reason, I didn't want to leave yet. So I leaned my back against the opposite wall. And waited.

I watched the steam curl upward toward the ceiling while the sound of falling water filled the silence.

The shower stopped.

My gaze lifted.

Emma emerged through the steam a moment later, wrapped in a towel. Damp hair framed her face, and she froze when she noticed me still leaning against the wall.

Her eyebrows drew together. “Why are you still here?”

“Waiting for you.”

She glanced down. “You’re still naked.”

I followed her gaze and snapped my fingers. Darkness flowed across my body instantly, forming clean clothes around me before dissolving into faint black wisps. I spread my hands slightly. “I’m not.”

Emma stared at me for a second. Deadpanned.

I smiled. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

I left the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind me.

The bedroom felt cooler after the steam, and the first thing that caught my attention was the tea Emma had prepared. Two cups rested on the small table, thin trails of steam curling above them.

I sat down and wrapped my fingers around mine.

Warm.

I took a small sip.

The taste was mild, almost soothing, completely different from the alcohol I'd been drinking throughout the night. The warmth settled in my stomach and seemed to spread gradually through the rest of me.

I stared into the cup.

Strangely, my mind wasn't racing anymore.

The bathroom door opened after a while.

Emma came out dressed comfortably for the night, her damp hair falling over her shoulders. She didn't say anything immediately. She simply walked over, sat beside me, took her cup, and sipped.

For several minutes, we stayed like that.

The silence wasn't awkward. It was the kind of silence that existed when two people didn't feel obligated to fill every empty space between them. Eventually, Emma lowered her cup. “Stay with me tonight.”