Chapter 8: Amber

Amber’s green eyes fluttered open, the soft morning light filtering through the narrow window of the church’s infirmary. Her fingers tightened around the coarse bed sheets, clutching them to her chest as if they could shield her from the memories flooding her mind.

Her body ached in places she hadn’t known could ache, each throb a reminder of the forbidden act that had unfolded in this very bed—a bed meant for the sick and weary, not for the sins of a nun who had sworn a solemn vow of purity.

Yet, as her gaze drifted to the rumpled sheets, she felt a flush of warmth, her lower body stirring with a shameful dampness. The pleasure—oh, that mighty, intoxicating pleasure—had been unlike anything she’d ever known. It pulsed through her veins, a drumbeat of desire that drowned out the hymns she’d once held dear.

She tore the sheet away, revealing her bare skin adorned with red marks—love bites, possessive imprints left by

him

. They dotted her chest like a map of her surrender, each one a testament to the man who had claimed her in the heat of the night.

Did he own her now? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, equal parts thrilling and terrifying. She was a nun, a servant of the Divine Light, yet her heart raced with the reckless urge to belong to him.

Her fingers brushed against the rough fabric of her nun’s habit, discarded in a heap beside the bed. Regret gnawed at her—not for breaking her vow, but for the undeniable truth that she would do it again. And again. And again.

"Is this the Curse of my bloodline," she whispered, her voice trembling with self-reproach. Her family had always been prone to passion, their hearts too easily swayed by beauty and charm.

But this? No....This was his fault. Those golden eyes, molten and hypnotic, like twin suns burning into her soul. That soft, snow-white hair, falling in silken waves she’d tangled her fingers in.

And that face—Gods above, he looked like an angel sculpted by divine hands, sent to tempt her into ruin. She’d always had a weakness for lean, striking men, but he was something else entirely. She’d brought him into the church, a wounded stranger seeking aid, and with one stolen kiss, her world had unraveled.

Knock! Knock!

"Amber! Amber, are you alright?" a voice called from beyond the wooden door, sharp with concern.

Amber’s heart lurched. She scrambled to her feet, her bare skin prickling in the cool air as she fumbled for her habit. She yanked the black robes over her head, the fabric clinging to her curves as she hastily tied the sash. In her panic, she forgot her undergarments, the absence of them making her feel even more exposed. Smoothing her hair beneath her veil, she steadied her breath and opened the door a crack.

"....I’m fine," she said, her voice too high, too brittle. "..Is something wrong?"

The nun on the other side was Sister Clara, a recent recruit Amber had personally welcomed into the order. Clara’s thin frame and wide, earnest eyes gave her an air of fragility, but her voice carried a quiet strength.

"Nothing’s wrong, Sister Amber, but... the man you brought to heal, he said you were unwell and not to be disturbed at any cost. We were worried—it’s been hours."

Amber’s stomach twisted. "He... he said that?" Her mind raced, picturing his sly smile, the way he’d likely woven his words to keep the others at bay. "Where did he go?"

Clara shrugged, her expression puzzled. "He didn’t say. He just... left. By the way, Father Matthias is impressed. The man came to us half-dead, and now he’s walking as if he’d never been ill. You didn’t tell us you could wield healing spells so powerfully."

Another nun, Sister Beatrice, stepped forward, her round face beaming with admiration. "Truly, Sister Amber, it’s a miracle! You’ve been hiding your talents."

Amber forced a smile, her mind elsewhere. She brushed past them, her bare feet cold against the stone floor as she made her way to the church’s gates.

The holy water givers stood at their posts, blessing the mugs of pilgrims and townsfolk. She approached a middle-aged man, his hands steady as he poured sanctified water into an outstretched cup.

"Did you see a man with white hair and golden eyes?" she asked, her voice low, urgent.

The man glanced up, squinting as he considered her question. "Aye, I think so....hard to miss if I’m being honest....He went... that way." He nodded toward the bustling market square, where a grand mansion loomed over the cobblestone streets. "Saw him enter the viscount’s estate. Might be one of his servants, I reckon."

Amber’s gaze followed his gesture, settling on the towering mansion of Viscount Roderic, the lord who ruled this domain with an iron hand cloaked in velvet charm.

Her throat tightened, a mix of dread and longing coiling in her chest. The fire in her heart burned brighter, urging her to seek him out, to feel his touch again. But she bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood.

’No,’ she told herself, clenching her fists. ’I’ve already committed a grave sin.... No more.’ Yet her eyes lingered on the mansion, her body betraying her resolve. ’Maybe... just once more...’

.

.

.

Meanwhile, Aiden slipped into the servant quarters, his body thrumming with a vitality he hadn’t felt in days.

His hunger—his

need

—had been sated, Amber’s fiery essence coursing through him like a drug. Her ember, as he’d come to think of it, fueled his incubus blood, leaving him refreshed and sharp.

He leaned against the canal’s edge, his white hair catching the fading sunlight as he grinned to himself. This world was strange, a tapestry of magic and danger woven from the pages of a novel he’d once read. But now, he was no mere reader—he was a player, a predator, a ’High Incubus’.

"If I can see others’ information, I must have a system of my own...if i think about it...," he muttered, half-expecting nothing to happen. But the moment the word

system

left his lips, a purple interface materialized before him, glowing with an otherworldly light..

"Ohhh," he breathed, his golden eyes widening. "This....thiss is way cooler than reading about it."

The interface pulsed, displaying his stats in crisp, arcane text: