Chapter 3: The Circle and The Knight

Chapter 3: The Circle and The Knight

The click of the suite door closing for the second time was a gunshot in the silent room. Julian Croft was gone. A faint, cloying trace of his expensive but ultimately cheap cologne lingered in the air, a stain on their sacred space. It was the scent of grasping ambition, and Jax wanted to burn the room down to be rid of it.

He remained in the shadows of the alcove, his body a knot of conflicting energies. The raw, animalistic jealousy warred with a dark, profound arousal. He had watched his corporate enemy kneel where he had knelt, and the sight was both a violation and a coronation. He was disgusted. He was enthralled. He felt like a king forced to watch a peasant grovel before his queen, a spectacle that simultaneously affirmed his status and sullied his throne.

Slowly, his muscles aching with the remnants of pleasure and the tension of the last twelve minutes, Jax pushed himself to his feet. He emerged from the darkness, his loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt a stark contrast to the coiled rage in his posture.

Lilith stood by the window again, a crimson silhouette against the jeweled city. She didn't turn, as if she could feel his presence, his turmoil, his need. The air between them crackled.

"Julian Croft," Jax said, his voice a low growl, rough with emotion. It wasn't an accusation. It was a question that held a thousand others within it. Why him? Why here?

She turned, and the power in her gaze pinned him to the spot. Her dark eyes glittered with triumphant amusement, holding no trace of apology. She was the architect of the chaos swirling inside him, and she was admiring her work.

"Yes," she said, her voice smooth as glass. "Julian Croft."

"He is my enemy," Jax ground out, taking a step closer. The possessive fire in his gut was burning away the last vestiges of his blissful submission.

"No," Lilith corrected, gliding towards him. The silk of her gown whispered promises and threats. "He is an annoyance. A gnat buzzing at the edges of your empire. I merely wanted to see his wings up close before I decided whether or not to pull them off."

She stopped directly in front of him, so close he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. She reached up, her cool fingers tracing the tense line of his jaw. "Did you think that was for him?" she whispered, her voice a hypnotic caress. "Oh, my sweet, foolish king. Nothing is ever for them."

Her thumb brushed against his lower lip. "That was for you."

The obstacle of his anger began to crumble under the weight of her words. He wanted to push her away, to demand more, but his body betrayed him, leaning into her touch.

"I saw his eyes at the party," she continued, her voice dropping lower, weaving a spell around him. "The way he looked at me. He looked at me like a prize to be won, a company to be acquired. He saw a trophy. He doesn't understand that the trophy is the one who awards the prize."

Her fingers trailed down his throat, over his hammering heart. "I wanted you to see him as I see him. As you should see him. Not as a rival, but as a pathetic, kneeling thing who would do anything for a taste of the power you command. The power I give you."

She looked deep into his eyes, her gaze stripping him bare. "Tell me you weren't hard, watching him debase himself for my attention. Tell me your blood wasn't singing, knowing he was kneeling in your filth, cleaning up your mess. Tell me it didn't feel like a victory."

He couldn't deny it. The shame of his arousal warred with the undeniable truth of her words. It had been a victory. A twisted, humiliating, glorious victory. She had taken his greatest frustration from the cold, sterile world of business and dragged it into their raw, hedonistic world, exposing it for the pathetic thing it was.

"He doesn't deserve to be in this room," Jax rasped, his hands finding her waist, pulling her flush against him. It was a desperate, possessive act.

"Of course he doesn't," she purred, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips, the one that always undid him. She had won. She always won. "That's what made it so perfect. He was dismissed. A toy put back in its box. But you, my king... you are here. You are always here."

She tilted her head back, offering him her throat, her faint scar, her absolute submission to his devotion. Just as he was about to lean in, to reclaim her mouth, to erase the memory of Croft with his own brand of worship, a soft, electronic chime sliced through the air.

The intercom.

The sound was an alien intrusion, a profanity in their temple. Jax’s head snapped towards the source of the sound, his jaw tightening in irritation. Only one person had the clearance to use that line at this hour.

He stepped away from Lilith, the spell momentarily broken, and pressed the button. "What is it, Kael?"

The voice that came back was devoid of emotion, clipped and professional, yet it carried the weight of a granite slab. "Sir. I need a word. It's a matter of security."

Jax glanced at Lilith. Her expression was one of mild, predatory curiosity. She was watching him, gauging his reaction. "Come up," Jax commanded, and switched off the intercom.

A minute later, the private elevator doors whispered open and Kael stepped into the suite. Jax’s head of security was a mountain of a man, dressed in a tactical black suit that did little to hide the slabs of muscle beneath. His head was shaved, his face a stoic mask, and his cold, observant eyes took in the scene in a single, sweeping glance: Jax’s state of undress, the faint scent of sex and strange cologne, Lilith standing like a queen in her blood-red gown, a faint smirk on her lips.

Kael’s gaze landed on Jax, but his awareness was entirely focused on Lilith. He saw her not as a beautiful woman, but as a variable he couldn't control, a system vulnerability. His loyalty was to Jaxson Thorne, the principal, and in his professional, unwavering opinion, Lilith Vance was the single greatest threat to his safety and stability.

"Report," Jax said, his voice clipped, mirroring his security chief's professionalism as a defense mechanism.

"Sir," Kael began, his tone flat. "At 23:47 hours, there was a security flag on your private elevator. It registered an unscheduled access to this floor." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "My team has confirmed the identity of the individual. Julian Croft. He departed at 23:59 hours. He is not on any approved access list."

Kael’s stare was heavy, demanding. "Sir, I need to know if this was a sanctioned breach of protocol."

The question hung in the charged air, a formal inquiry loaded with a deeply personal judgment. Kael wasn't just asking if Jax had authorized it; he was asking if Jax was still in control.

Jax felt trapped between two opposing forces. On one side was Kael, his Knight, the embodiment of logic, protection, and unwavering loyalty to the man the world knew. On the other was Lilith, his Queen, the embodiment of his secret soul, his desires, and a power that defied all logic.

He glanced at Lilith. The smirk she wore was no longer just for him. It was for Kael, too. She was watching this loyal soldier try to make sense of a game whose rules he could never comprehend, and she was utterly, terrifyingly amused. The protector and the obsession, facing off in silence over the soul of their king.