Demonic Pornstar System

Kaiden's hand drifted toward his phone, letting his thumb hover over the dark screen. "I'm worried about Nyx… she should've responded already."

Luna, still nestled in his lap, giggled and then slipped off him with a feline grace. She stood in front of him, hands extended. "Up," she demanded with a teasing grin.

Kaiden didn't move from his seated position. His eyes were still fixed on the phone, hoping a response might come at any moment. That earned him a sharp scolding glare from his most petite lover. Luna's purple eyes narrowed at him with authority.

That was when the Paragon of Sin sighed in surrender, feeling a mighty scolding session was on its way lest he fold, which was exactly what he elected to do. Thus, finally, he reached out, gripping her small hands. Luna tugged, pulling him up with surprising strength for her delicate body, then dragged him across the room to the bed. She pushed him down onto it and tucked the blanket around him with care, as if he were a sick patient.

"You should stop worrying and get some much-needed rest. You barely managed to get some sleep since Maximilian's conference more than a week ago. You can't go on like this," she announced firmly, her tone softer than her words. "Nyx might be many things, but incompetent isn't one of them. And besides, it's been a long time since she met her friend. They have a lot to catch up on."

Kaiden exhaled again, full of worry. Luna caught it, and her gaze softened. She sat at the edge of the bed and leaned down, stroking his hair with a tenderness she basically never displayed when the others were around. The gamer girl's lips curved faintly up in utmost satisfaction; she was plainly, even mischievously, happy to have him all to herself to pamper.

Her touch coaxed his body to relax, his eyes slipping halfway shut. But just when she thought he was giving in to rest, he stirred and tried to sit up.

Luna's expression flattened into a dry look. Without hesitation, she pressed her palm against his chest, holding him down. "Let me guess. Now you're worried about Aria."

"… She's alone."

"Well, Riven is with her, but I get what you mean. However, she wanted to go on her lonesome," Luna countered smoothly. "Which means she must've had a plan."

"But why did she ask me to stay behind?" Kaiden muttered dejectedly under his breath with his brows furrowed.

Luna shrugged. "Wanting to prove something. Wanting you to rest. Plenty of possible explanations exist." Then, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, she added cheekily, "Or maybe you would've just gotten in the way."

Kaiden's expression soured instantly, and Luna burst into giggles at the sight before she stroked his lush black hair with utmost joy.

"I'm not a dog…"

"But when I look at you, all I see is a good boy."

"Very funny…"

…

"No! Absolutely not! You will not drag us down with you!"

The shout rattled the high-ceilinged chamber, bouncing off its rune-etched walls made for defense against the awakened. The voice belonged to a man in his fifties, his face red and glistening with sweat, jowls trembling with every furious word. He was a majority stockholder of Runewoven, seated at the crescent-shaped table with his peers; men and women draped in silks, velvet, and tailored suits, each decorated in brooches and necklaces that screamed of wealth.

At the center of the chamber, opposite the table, stood Aria.

Silver hair cascaded like moonlight over her shoulders, catching every glint of the overhead crystal chandeliers. Her figure was accentuated by a fitted professional dress that was white with black accents, cinched at the waist, hugging her athletic curves while maintaining a devastating feminine grace.

It wasn't overly flashy in its design; however, it wasn't made to allow its wearer to display all her charms. No, it was commanding. A look that said she was here to discuss, not beg.

Behind her, silent and unflinching, stood Riven. The constructrix's stern figure in her combat attire radiated quiet authority. Her mere presence was enough to make more than one shareholder sit straighter in their chairs.

Aria didn't flinch at the man's shout. Her lips curved as she tilted her head.

"Please, lower your voice. We're not in a bar watching football right now."

The man's eyes bulged, affronted, but before he could bluster again, Aria continued:

"'Absolutely not?' Might I ask why not?"

The stockholder slammed a hand on the table. "Because this entire debacle is utterly humiliating! Valhalla's Sinners brought it upon themselves with their filth and greed, and now you want us to share in this disgrace? To weather the storm together?! Please! Runewoven doesn't wish to partake in this shitfest!"

Aria's expressionless, professional smile told many tales about her real thoughts. She didn't raise her voice, didn't even let a single strand of composure slip. Instead, she looked deep into the eyes of the man who couldn't help but keep raising his voice.

"The world," she spoke up finally with a silken voice, "is not about what we want. It is about what we do. And Valhalla's Sinners, more precisely, Kaiden Grey, the man I represent today, owns twenty percent of Runewoven."

Her silver gaze pinned the shouting man in place.

"As a shareholder," she went on, "he owns more of this guild than you. Therefore, I fail to understand why you speak as if you called the shots. Or have you gained the majority in your support?"

The room stilled. The man's jaw worked soundlessly. His face turned to disgust when Aria brought the numbers up, because the way Kaiden suddenly managed to gain 20% was by the shareholders coming to the conclusion that they would all give up part of their shares. Otherwise, if Kaiden's demands weren't met and he didn't participate in the dungeon clear, the entire guild might've ceased to exist.

Aria didn't linger on him anymore, having wasted enough time. Instead, she turned her head toward the woman seated at the very center of the crescent table. Talia Runewoven.

A woman in her late twenties, long chestnut hair bound into an elegant braid, her dress a regal navy that mirrored the old guildmaster's colors. She wasn't just another shareholder. She was the guild leader, inheritor of the mantle after her father's death.

Talia preferred to spend her days in the guild's smithy, but for this occasion, she shed her apron and dressed in her elegant suit.

"Miss Talia," she said smoothly, "you hold the most shares. You carry the voice of leadership. So tell me, do you have something to say?"