Lilith yawned.
A lazy stretch followed, her legs tangling deeper into the blankets, her toned midriff peeking just above the sheets like a secret she dared you to ask about.
The dream lingered.
No—not a dream.
A memory.
The kind that clung to the inside of her mind like blood on the walls. She never remembered it willingly, yet when it came, it came—like a wave of bile and regret that left her drained and disgusted.
"Stupid subconscious," she muttered.
She turned to the side.
Adam was still asleep.
Face half-buried in the pillow, one arm flopped over the edge of the mattress, mouth slightly parted like a fool who never learned how to sleep with dignity. He looked... peaceful.
He looked way too fucking peaceful.
And he was way too freaking soft to be a man. Something about him was off—she just didn't know what—but something in there just didn't feel normal. A man wouldn't act like this, usually.
She had tried practically everything, yet his eyes still seemed to hold that childlike innocence of his. She knew—no, it had to be fake.
Men weren't this innocent... they couldn't be.
There was certainly something he had to hide.
She needed something. Anything, really. Anything could work to justify her actions.
But even as she tried...
A little bend here. A sultry sigh there. A slow, wet lick of her lips mid-sentence. Her usual game.
And he had blushed.
Sure. He definitely noticed.
But instead of grabbing her or making a move...
He smiled—gently—and said, "I think I'd like to get to know you better."
What the hell did that even mean?
Who says that?
What man in his right mind says that to her?
She remembered the moment well. Her fingers had brushed his chest, slow and deliberate, pressing just enough to signal what she wanted. Her lips had ghosted near his ear as she whispered something filthy—so filthy it would've made a priest combust.
And he had gently, gently taken her hand, looked her in the eye, and said,
"You're really beautiful, but... I don't want to rush. I think people should be more than just... moments."
Lilith had stared at him for a solid five seconds, wondering if he was playing her. Acting like the 'nice guy' to stand out.
Bullshit. Those men do not exist. They either put on a nice face for punnany, or act like they own the punnany just for being a decent human being.
Something about Adam was off. He was different from her first husband.
Kronos was about as macho as one could get. About as alpha pill as one could be. Oh yeah, look at me, sin of lust, and I subdue her with my dick type of mentality. Really, trying to subdue her with this was... useless.
Unless you were overwhelmingly stronger than her, chances are, you are not subduing her. Her power kinda worked in such a way that, for the most part, if she wanted to, she could just make you bust a nut in one stroke. And for you to defend against it, you'd have to have a lot of Reishi enhancing your meat to be able not to bust in one thrust...
TL;DR: if you just came in expecting a good dicking would do it, it wouldn't work. She might've taken a 20-inch at some point... she is very stretchy, don't question it. So there is nothing a human could throw at her that she couldn't take.
But oh well, if that helped boost their ego, let them be.
Yet with Adam, something felt off. Like, very, very off.
She knew he had that switch. There was no way—she had been trying to fully seduce him for weeks now, yet, nada.
But she kept at it. He had to have a breaking point.
But days passed.
Weeks.
And he never tried to claim her. Never pushed, never asked, never pried. Just... existed. Helping her cook. Asking if she was okay. Reading aloud in the evenings. Telling her dumb facts about bugs and stars and ancient poetry that no one asked for.
What the hell was this man?
A monk?
A eunuch?
A liar?
Maybe.
Probably.
Definitely.
No man saw her—really saw her—and didn't want to take.
That's how it always went. From nobles to captains to Quincy traitors in uniformed armor—they all said they loved her until they realized they didn't. Until she was inconvenient. Tainted. Hollow.
As many would call it, a loose woman. But if a man had her power, it would be—he was a chad, a player, he was just doing what he had to survive.
Fun.
Also, as for how the fuck she managed to sleep with a Quincy—when they hate Hollows to the core—it's called race play and fetish...
But Adam...
Adam would stumble over his own words when she wore something revealing. Apologize when their fingers brushed. Blush like a teenage monk when she walked past in a towel.
It was bizarre.
And...
A little fascinating.
He'd make her tea in the morning—too much sugar, not enough bitterness. He'd ask about her favorite color. Her favorite food. Her favorite flower. All the things no one ever thought to ask her, as if she were a person rather than a temptress carved from bone and rage.
And he meant it.
Which pissed her off more than anything.
Because she couldn't figure out what his game was.
And more importantly, she couldn't figure out why a tiny part of her didn't hate it.
She sat up, running her fingers through her hair.
Adam stirred.
"Mmm... Lilith?" he muttered, still half-asleep.
She didn't answer immediately. Just stared at him.
He rubbed his eyes, blinking slowly. "You okay?"
"You're weird," she said plainly.
He tilted his head, still blinking the sleep from his gaze. "Huh?"
"Most men fall into two categories: those who want me, and those who want to own me," she said. "You're not doing either. It's... suspicious."
Adam yawned. "That's an odd way to start the day," he said, looking at her.
"It is... now spill it."
Meanwhile, somewhere else...
Gabriel could be seen looking at a fresh Shinigami corpse.
He smiled a bit, imbuing the corpse with the soul of Yamamoto.
From now on, he would be the man in charge of Hell's gate—the one who decided which realm each soul would pass through.
The old man's flames switched to a blue color. Well... no need for that.
Sometimes the flames would turn white. No worry.
He now permanently had what seemed to be a fiery coat on him at all times.
Good.
Sure, this copy was like 50% of Yamamoto's full strength, yet his potential was far above the old man's. So unlike the original, he wouldn't stagnate—he could go even further.
Gabriel's eyes shifted toward the other souls he had to reincarnate.
The most powerful of which were:
Gin.
Ukitake.
Those two were probably the strongest souls he was working with right now.
Hm. He could work with that.
They would join the Nephilim Corp and everything.
He would have to call Lucius and have him mentor the kids—he should be a good teacher. His programming allowed for that.
Hm... he decided to tweak the old man's power a bit. He could now make semi-sentient constructs with his flames and summon practically every person he killed—with the added fact that now those persons are not skeletons, and they have the same strength and ability they had while alive.
So yeah, he was being buffed.
Tokinada was somewhere in a dungeon still getting tortured. He couldn't die, so yeah—there was that. And anything his mind broke from would be instantly repaired. And when that happened, it also reset his pain receptors and the pain he felt before he broke.
i.e., he could never get used to the torture—it would always feel like the first time for him. While, since his mind semi-remembered it, it would feel like it's been forever.