Chapter 43: Esther is… going through difficulties

Ester’s room was spacious, silent, and perfectly tidy. The black curtains blocked the moonlight, the air was as cold as ever—and still, she couldn’t sleep.

She tossed and turned, the silk sheets already tangled, the coolness of her skin trying to calm the fire burning inside her. But all she had to do was close her eyes for a few seconds, and the sound pierced the walls like a curse.

“Ahh… harder… Damon…”

The drawn-out, trembling voice, thick with pleasure, echoed again. Ester’s body stiffened instantly. Her fists clenched against the pillow.

“Again…” she whispered, breathless.

It had been a week. Seven nights in a row. Seven nights in which Aria’s pleasure was spat against the walls, vibrating until it reached her room. Ester, who had always prized silence and absolute control, now found herself being tortured.

At first, she thought it was just a coincidence. Maybe it had happened once, maybe twice. But time revealed the cruel truth: Damon and Aria were repeating the act every night.

Ester closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her ears, trying to muffle the sounds. But the more she tried, the more the voices seemed to infiltrate her mind.

“That’s it… Damon… don’t stop…”

A blush crept up her face, burning like fire. Not because she wanted to hear it—but because she couldn’t ignore it. Aria’s sweet yet desperate moan seemed to tear something from her, as if with each note it was mocking her own loneliness.

“Damn…” Ester muttered, digging her nails into the sheets.

Anger was her shield, but her body betrayed her mind. Her heart was beating fast, her lips were dry, and she felt a strange, dangerous unease spreading beneath her skin. Every sigh Aria made felt like a personal provocation.

She sat up in bed, taking a deep breath, trying to control herself. But then it came again: the sound of a rhythmic thud, as if Aria’s own bed were being pushed against the wall. The unmistakable beat.

“Tsk…” Ester turned her face away, but couldn’t stop a shiver from running down her spine.

With each beat, her mind was invaded by images she didn’t want to have. Damon’s body, his cold, domineering gaze, the strength he exuded. Aria’s hot, ragged breath, begging for more. The contrast between desire and shame.

It was unbearable.

Ester hated incubi. Always had. She saw them only as predators who fed on human weaknesses, creatures who turned desire into chains. And yet, there she was—shivering, flushed, feeling caged by the sounds coming from the next room.

“Damn it…” she whispered, placing a hand on her chest.

Her heart wouldn’t slow. The heat only grew. No matter how hard she tried to fool herself, her body reacted, caught between revulsion and excitement.

Another moan echoed, this time louder, and Ester’s eyes widened.

“Aria…” she murmured, almost in disbelief.

There was something in that voice that drove her insane. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was surrender. The surrender of someone who had given body and soul to Damon.

Ester bit her lip, feeling anger mix with a jealousy she didn’t want to admit. Aria had always been her right hand, loyal, disciplined. But now… now she sounded like a common female, completely lost in the ecstasy of an incubus.

“You’re pathetic…” she whispered, as if speaking to Aria even without being heard.

But the word sounded weak.

Her eyes drifted to the wall, as if she could see through it. With each passing moment, her imagination filled in the details. Damon holding Aria, dominating her effortlessly. Her delicate body arching beneath his command. The whispers, the suppressed cries, the sound of pleasure spilling over.

Ester ran her hand over her face, feeling the cold sweat break out.

“Why am I… thinking about this…?”

The sleepless nights began to take their toll. Her body was tired, her mind exhausted, and yet she was unable to shake off those images. Every time she tried to suppress it, the temptation seemed to grow even stronger.

That was the worst part.

It wasn’t just irritation. It wasn’t just jealousy. There was a dark part of her that… envied.

Ester’s eyes widened at the thought.

“Envy… me?” she murmured, almost unable to believe her own words.

But her body couldn’t lie. Heat burned in her veins, her chest rose and fell in despair, and her hands trembled as if they belonged to someone else. It was a cruel prison: trapped in an erotic torture she hadn’t chosen, but to which she reacted with frightening intensity.

On the other side of the wall, the rhythm quickened. Aria’s moans echoed louder and louder, more obscene, as if the wall itself were complicit in the scene. The sound of the bed hitting the wood sounded like a merciless drum, marking every moment of Ester’s torment.

She squeezed her eyes shut, digging her nails into her thighs until the pain pierced her skin.

“Stop…” she whispered, almost begging. “Just… stop…”

But they didn’t stop.

And then came the climax. Aria’s moan exploded, long, ravishing, knocking the air from Ester’s chest. The sound mingled with Damon’s heavy breathing, deep, dominating, filling every corner of the night’s silence.

The world stopped. Ester’s heart seemed to hammer inside her chest. Her breathing was so ragged she could have sworn she’d run for miles. But there was no running, no escape. Only the cruel emptiness of her own body on fire.

She fell back onto the bed, the sheets soaked with cold sweat, her body throbbing with frustration and shame.

“Damn incubus…” she murmured, her red eyes blazing in the darkness. “Damn Aria…”

The venom in her voice was real, but her trembling betrayed her.

Deep down, Ester knew the truth she hated most: the enemy wasn’t Damon, nor Aria. It was herself. Every night, her mind betrayed her. Every night, her body rose in response to what she so despised.

She turned her face to the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. But she knew, deep down, that she wouldn’t sleep. Not while the echo of those moans still burned inside her like an unquenchable flame.

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