​High Inquisitor Kaelen of the Silver Flame stood before the entrance of the dungeon, clutching a leather satchel to her chest like a holy shield.

​She had been gone for a few days.

Days of filing reports. Days of lying to the Bishop. Days of explaining why she hadn't purged the "Anomaly" in the mountains.

"It is a strategic asset," she had told the High Council. "A vassal state. I am monitoring it for heresy. Closely."

​Monitoring.

That was the official term.

Unofficially, she was hyperventilating.

​She stared at the heavy stone doors. She remembered the ride on the horse. She remembered the cold press of his chest against her back armor. She remembered the way his corrupted mana felt, like ice water poured over a sunburn. It was wrong. It was heretical.

It was the only thing she could think about.

​"Pull it together, Kaelen," she whispered, smoothing her white tabard. "You are an Officer of the Light. He is just a rock with a personality disorder and a nice jawline. Do not engage. Do not snuggle."

​She pushed the heavy stone doors open.

​GROOOAN.

​She stepped inside, expecting the damp smell of moss, the heat of the magma forge, and the screech of goblins.

Instead, she was hit with the scent of… velvet? And expensive cologne? And faint ozone?

​Kaelen blinked.

The cave was gone.

In its place was a lobby that looked like it belonged to a vampire prince with a limitless credit limit. The walls were black marble, veined with silver that pulsed with a slow, heartbeat rhythm. The air was cool and filled with drifting violet smoke. The lighting was moody and low, casting long, seductive shadows across the plush carpets.

​"What in the name of the Saints…?" Kaelen muttered.

​"HALT."

​Kaelen's hand flew to her sword hilt.

Seraphine uncoiled from the shadows near a massive obsidian pillar.

The Lamia looked… different. Her magma armor was polished to a black mirror shine. She wasn't wearing her usual ragged loincloth; she was wearing a sheer, black silk sash draped across her chest and hips, held in place by delicate gold chains. It hid nothing and emphasized the heavy swell of her breasts and the dangerous curve of her hips.

​"The Paladin returns," Seraphine hissed, her eyes narrowing into green slits. She slithered forward, her massive tail blocking Kaelen's path. "You smell like paperwork and lemon soap. It is offensive."

​"I am the Case Officer," Kaelen snapped, trying not to look at the Lamia's exposed midriff. "I have clearance."

​"Clearance?"

Maira stepped out from behind the new front desk.

The Demon Maid pushed her glasses up her nose. She was wearing a new uniform, a tight, black pencil skirt that ended dangerously high up her thigh, black stockings, and a white blouse unbuttoned just enough to be compliant with code, but suggestive of imminent violation.

​"Clearance is a construct," Maira said coolly, looking Kaelen up and down. "You are trespassing on private property, Inquisitor. Unless you have brought the proper tribute?"

​"I brought the permits!" Kaelen shouted, waving the satchel. "For the… the establishment!"

​"Let her through, ladies."

​The voice came from the mezzanine above.

It was deep. Resonant. It vibrated in Kaelen's breastplate like a tuning fork.

​Reed walked to the balcony railing.

Kaelen's breath hitched.

He looked ruined. In the best possible way.

His skin was paler than before, stark against the darkness of the room. His hair was a messy black halo. His eyes, once a warm brown were now a vivid, glowing amethyst that seemed to suck the light out of the room. He wore a black velvet coat open over a silk shirt, looking less like a Dungeon Core and more like a Lord of the Abyss who had just rolled out of bed.

​"Welcome back, Officer," Reed smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was a hungry smile. "Did you bring my protection?"

​Kaelen's knees felt weak.

"I… I have the documents," she stammered. "The vassalage agreement. The zoning permits."

​"Excellent," Reed said. "Come up to my office. We need to review the fine print."

​He turned and walked back into the shadows.

​Seraphine leaned in close to Kaelen, her forked tongue flickering near the Paladin's ear.

"If you bore him," Seraphine whispered, "I will eat you."

​Kaelen swallowed hard, gripped her satchel, and marched up the stairs.

​The Office (Formerly the Master Suite)

​The room was dark.

Of course it was dark.

The only light came from a massive fireplace where violet flames licked at black logs.

Reed was sitting behind a desk made of carved obsidian, leaning back in a high-backed leather chair.

​"Sit," Reed commanded.

​Kaelen sat. The chair in front of the desk was too comfortable. It felt like it was trying to hug her hips.

​"So," Reed said, lacing his fingers together. Violet smoke curled from his knuckles. "You convinced the Authority not to glass us?"

​"It was… difficult," Kaelen admitted, pulling a stack of parchment from her bag. She tried to keep her voice professional, but the room was freezing. The Void cold radiating from him was intense. "I classified you as a 'Low-Threat Resource Generator.' I told them you produce… rare minerals."

​"I produce anxiety," Reed corrected. "And pizza."

​"I have the permits for a commercial establishment," Kaelen said, sliding a paper across the desk. "But you need to explain this… renovation. This does not look like a Resource Generator. It looks like a… a… brothel for warlocks."

​Reed laughed. He stood up.

He didn't stay on his side of the desk. He walked around it.

Kaelen stiffened. "Stay on your side of the desk, Avatar."

​"I can't read the fine print from there," Reed murmured.

​He leaned over her shoulder.

He didn't touch her. He didn't have to.

His aura slammed into hers.

It was a violent chemical reaction. Her Holy Light, warm, rigid, orderly, collided with his Void, cold, chaotic, hungry.

The air between them hissed.

​Szzzzzt.

​Kaelen gasped. A jolt of pure, static electricity shot down her spine. The cold coming off him made her nipples harden instantly against the silk of her under-tunic. The heat coming off her made him groan.

​"You're so warm," Reed whispered, his mouth inches from her ear. "Like a nuclear reactor."

​"I am… a vessel of the Flame," Kaelen breathed, her eyes fluttering shut. "I burn the corruption."

​"Then burn me," Reed challenged.

​He reached out and placed his hand over hers on the desk.

His hand was ice cold. Hers was fever hot.

Where they touched, violet steam curled up. It felt like sticking her hand into a bucket of dry ice and hot water at the same time. It hurt. It felt amazing.

​"Review the contract, Kaelen," Reed said, his voice dropping an octave. "Is everything in order? Is the structure sound?"

​"The… the foundation," Kaelen squeaked, trying to focus on the paper. "It must be… firm."

​"Oh, it's firm," Reed murmured.

​He slid his other hand onto her shoulder. He squeezed the metal pauldron, his grip crushing enough to dent the steel. He let his thumb drag along the exposed skin of her neck, right below the hairline.

Kaelen whimpered. Her thighs clenched together involuntarily. The friction of her armor against the leather chair made a soft creak.

​"Clause 4," she stammered, her voice breathless. "Mandatory… safety inspections. Random… deep… audits."

​"I love audits," Reed murmured, leaning down until his cheek pressed against hers. "Maira taught me the value of a thorough examination. We should check your structural integrity right now."

​He bit her earlobe.

It wasn't a nibble. It was a sharp, possessive claim.

​"Ah!" Kaelen arched her back, her hips bucking against the chair. "Reed! I am… I am on duty! This is harassment!"

​"This is cooperation," Reed corrected, moving his mouth to the sensitive cord of her neck. He inhaled her scent, lemons and arousal. "I need you, Officer. I need your signature."

​He reached around her, picking up a quill. He dipped it in ink.

He pressed the quill into her hand, wrapping his cold fingers around hers.

He wasn't just guiding her hand. He was surrounding her. His chest was pressed against her back, his groin pressed against the back of the chair, radiating a dangerous, predatory intent.

​"The invites," Reed whispered against her neck. "Sign them."

​"Why?" Kaelen whispered, her head falling back against his chest. She could feel the thrum-thrum of the Dungeon Core beating in his ribs. It was slow, powerful, and hypnotic. "Why would I bring them here? They are dangerous. They will kill you."

​"They have gold," Reed whispered, nipping at the skin of her throat. "And we are broke, Officer. If we don't pay the tax, Vane returns. Do you want Vane to hurt me?"

​"No," Kaelen breathed. The thought made her stomach twist.

​"Then help me rob them," Reed said. "Legally."

​He guided her hand to the paper.

She signed. High Inquisitor Kaelen.

​With every stroke of the pen, Reed pressed closer. He was feeding on her heat. She could feel him siphoning the warmth out of her aura, replacing it with a shivering, electric pleasure that pooled low in her belly.

​"Good girl," Reed praised.

​He spun the chair around.

Kaelen gasped, suddenly facing him. He was looming over her, his hands on the armrests, trapping her legs between his.

His violet eyes were burning.

​"Now," Reed said, his voice rough. "Tell me about the guests. Who are the marks?"

​Kaelen panted, her face flushed red. She looked at his lips. She looked at the bulge in his silk trousers, inches from her knees. She looked at the invites.

"Lord Valerius," she choked out. "Richest man in the capital. Arrogant. Likes to gamble. Thinks he's smarter than everyone."

​"Perfect," Reed grinned. "We'll eat him alive. Who else?"

​"Commander Thorne," Kaelen said. She reached out, her hands gripping the lapels of Reed's velvet coat. She needed more contact. She needed to ground herself before she floated away on the mana high. "Old guard. Hates luxury. Thinks dungeons should be… painful."

​"I can be painful," Reed promised darkly.

​He leaned down.

He didn't kiss her lips immediately. He kissed the corner of her mouth. Then her jaw. Then the hollow of her throat.

Kaelen let out a wrecked sound, her head falling back.

​"Reed," she pleaded. "I can't… I shouldn't…"

​"Sign the last one," Reed ordered softly against her lips.

​He kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It was a collision.

Kaelen tasted ozone and grave-dirt. Reed tasted sunlight and lemons.

The kiss deepened instantly. Kaelen moaned into his mouth, her tongue fighting his for dominance. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into the V of her thighs. The metal of her greaves scraped against his silk pants.

Reed groaned, grinding his hips forward. The contact sent a shockwave of pleasure through both of them.

​[SYSTEM ALERT]

[Mana Transfer: CRITICAL.]

[Holy/Void Reaction: EUPHORIA STATE.]

​They broke apart, gasping for air.

Reed's eyes were wild. Kaelen's hair was a mess, her lips swollen and red.

​"The invites are signed," Reed rasped, his voice sounding like gravel. He wiped a smudge of ink from her cheek with his thumb. "Go send them. Before I forget that you're a Paladin and I'm a monster, and I bend you over this desk."

​Kaelen stared at him. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She realized, with a sinking feeling of horror, that she wanted him to do exactly that.

​"Five days," Kaelen managed to whisper, her voice trembling. "I can get the courier to deliver them. The guests will arrive in five days."

​"Five days," Reed agreed, stepping back, though his eyes lingered on her chest. "That gives us time to get the sheets ready."

​Kaelen stood up. Her legs were shaking. She grabbed the stack of signed invites.

"I will… I will dispatch them immediately," she whispered.

​She stumbled toward the door.

She paused at the threshold, looking back.

Reed was leaning against the desk, watching her, looking like the devil himself. He ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling a puff of violet smoke.

​"Kaelen," he called out.

​"Yes?"

​"Wear the armor tonight," Reed said, his grin returning. "But leave the tabard. I like the metal. It's cold."

​Kaelen turned and fled the room.

​The Lobby

​Kaelen ran down the stairs, clutching the papers.

She almost ran into Seraphine.

​The Lamia was waiting at the bottom of the steps. She looked at Kaelen's flushed face. She looked at the hickey forming on Kaelen's neck. She smelled the thick, heavy scent of Void mana and arousal clinging to the Paladin's skin.

​Seraphine smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was the smile of a predator recognizing another predator in her territory.

​"He is addictive, isn't he?" Seraphine purred, crossing her arms. "Like swallowing a lightning bolt."

​Kaelen straightened her armor. She tried to summon her dignity, but her voice cracked.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, snake. I was merely… conducting business. Regulatory business."

​"Business," Maira noted, stepping out of the shadows with her clipboard. She adjusted her glasses, hiding a knowing smirk. "Is that what we are calling it now? Interesting. I shall update the ledger under 'Staff Relations'."

​Kaelen glared at them both.

"The guests arrive in five days," Kaelen announced, holding up the invites like a weapon. "I expect this facility to be up to code by then. If a single hair on a Noble's head is harmed, I will arrest all of you."

​"We will be on our best behavior," Maira lied smoothly.

​Kaelen marched toward the exit.

As she pushed the doors open, she heard Seraphine's voice float after her.

​"Don't worry, Paladin. We share."

​Kaelen slammed the door.

She leaned against the cold stone outside, pressing the cool envelopes to her burning cheeks.

"Gods," she whispered, sliding down the wall until she hit the dirt. "I'm going to hell. And I think I'm going to enjoy the trip."

​[QUEST COMPLETE: THE INVITES.]

[Reward: The Whales are coming (in 5 Days).]

[Next Phase: BUILD THE CASINO.]

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