I sneezed so hard my eyes watered. Three times in a row. Brutal.

"Excuse me while my sinuses try to exit my skull," I grumbled, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand.

My bed felt like quicksand, swallowing me into its comfort after the day’s gate training. Rain-soaked and exhausted, I’d finally surrendered to horizontal existence about an hour ago.

"Someone’s definitely talking about you." Naomi looked up from her textbook, cross-legged in my desk chair. Her pink and black hair fell loose around her shoulders, still slightly damp from her shower. "That’s what my mom always said about sudden sneezing."

"Probably Blair plotting my murder." I blew my nose. "She’s been staring daggers at me since the benchmarks."

Naomi’s forehead creased. "That’s the fourth time you’ve sneezed in twenty minutes. Are you getting sick? We have the gate tomorrow."

"I’m fine. Just—" Another sneeze interrupted me, this one threatening to separate my soul from my body.

"Totally fine, huh?" Naomi set her book down. "You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met."

"Thanks, I try."

"It wasn’t a compliment."

The door to the bathroom swung open, releasing a cloud of steam into my bedroom. Belle stood there wrapped in nothing but a white towel, blue hair dripping onto her shoulders. Droplets of water traced paths down her collarbone toward the generous curve of her cleavage barely contained by the towel’s edge.

"Your fault," she announced, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "One hundred percent your fault."

I stared, momentarily forgetting what words were. Belle’s legs went on forever, smooth and toned, with water beading on her thighs.

"My fault?" I managed after dragging my eyes up to her face.

"Training in the goddamn rain all afternoon." Belle made another dramatic gesture that caused her towel to slip precariously lower. "Who does that? Oh right, crazy people and you."

"The gate tomorrow is a swamp biome," I said. "Seemed like the logical way to prepare."

"Logical would be staying dry and not catching pneumonia before our biggest competition." Belle’s tone carried a sharp edge, but her expression gave her away. She was trying not to smile. "But no, Mr. Milk had to go practice his big boom splashes in actual water."

"It worked, though. My accuracy with Wave Motion improved by twelve percent."

"Your accuracy at catching a cold, you mean?" Naomi had already moved to my bedside. She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead with the same worried focus she’d use to check one of her brothers. "You feel warm."

"I’m always warm," I said, catching her wrist before she could pull away. I turned her hand over and kissed her palm. The gesture came naturally now, automatic. "Enhanced metabolism, remember?"

Naomi’s face went several shades of pink, her breath catching. Belle rolled her eyes from across the room, but I saw the tiny quirk of her lips she couldn’t quite suppress.

"Anyway, thanks for coming over. I know it’s late." I sat up, the blanket pooling around my waist. Both their eyes tracked the movement, taking in my shirtless torso.

Still strange, being looked at like that. Three weeks ago, I’d been hiding under baggy clothes, ashamed of my body. Now? The Divine Milking System had sculpted me into something worth staring at.

"Yeah, you said it was important." Belle adjusted her towel. "What’s up?"

I cleared my throat. "We need to talk strategy for tomorrow, but also... my Essence Vault is running low."

Belle’s eyebrows shot up. "So you want us to get milked by you, Jace? Is that it?"

"Belle—" Naomi started.

"What? Should I put on cow lingerie too?" Belle’s grin turned wicked. "Is that what you want, Mr. Milk Vampire?"

"If you’re offering..." I let my gaze drag over her body, slow and appreciative.

Belle’s cheeks flushed despite her bravado. "You’ve gotten cockier."

"You like it."

"Maybe." Her eyes glittered. "Doesn’t mean I’ll admit it."

I swung my legs over the bed’s edge and stood up. My pajama pants hung low on my hips as I moved toward them. "I need to refill my Vault before tomorrow’s gate. Just in case."

"In case of what?" Naomi asked.

"In case I need to Overclock again. Last time it saved us against the Reaper."

The memory of our narrow escape silenced both of them. Death had come within inches that day.

"Fine," Belle sighed. "But I need to get dressed first."

"Do you though?" I smirked.

"Pig." But she smiled when she said it.

I walked toward them, closing the distance until I stood close enough to touch. "Actually, I had another idea."

Both women went still, watching me with sudden wariness.

"Private Sanctum got an upgrade." I let the words hang between us. "Bronze rank now. Larger space, longer duration... and capacity for two."

Belle’s eyes widened. "Two targets? You mean..."

"Both of us?" Naomi finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

"If you’re comfortable with that." I looked between them. "No pressure."

The women exchanged glances, having one of those silent female conversations that men aren’t equipped to translate.

"What exactly did you have in mind?" Belle asked, caution and curiosity warring in her voice.

Instead of answering, I reached out and touched them both—my right hand on Belle’s bare shoulder, my left on Naomi’s forearm. I activated Private Sanctum, feeling the familiar drain on my mana reserves.

The world shifted around us, reality folding away like origami. My bedroom disappeared, replaced by a luxurious suite I’d designed specifically for this moment. Plush carpet under our feet. Ambient lighting that flattered skin tones. A California king bed dominating one wall. A wet bar. A massive bathroom visible through an open doorway.

And hanging on the wall: two identical lingerie sets.

Cow print. Black and white patches on silk bras and panties, with matching thigh-high stockings. Little bell chokers resting on velvet displays.

"JACE!" Both women exclaimed in perfect, scandalized unison.

"What?" I adopted my most innocent expression. "You brought it up."

Belle recovered first, her shock transforming into laughter. "You absolute degenerate."

"I prefer ’man of culture.’"