“So…will you help me?”

Silence.

Andras stared at her, expression unreadable…until a slow, almost disbelieving grin crept across his face. Then he laughed. Loud and rich. The sound echoed in the stone room like thunder wrapped in velvet.

“You dare ask me for help,” he said between chuckles, “when your life is the payment for their greed?”

He let go of her wrists, shaking his head as if he’d just heard the world’s most absurd joke. Then he leaned back, one elbow resting on his knee, his gaze fixed on her with wicked amusement.

Cerise sat up, unflinching. His laughter didn’t rattle her. It only confirmed she’d caught his attention.

“Help me,” she said, calm and cold, “and I’ll come with you willingly. No fight. No fuss. My life, my soul—yours, after I’m done.”

He quieted.

Andras studied her, fingers raking through his ash gray-streaked hair, eyes narrowing slightly in intrigue. “You want me to help you? The sacrifice wants to bargain?”

She lifted a brow, voice sharp. “I guess demons really are stupid. Was I not clear?”

His grin faded into something darker. Without warning, he gripped her chin, tilting her face up to meet his glowing eyes. “Careful, Little Flame,” he said, his voice low, deadly smooth. “I enjoy a challenge, but I detest insolence.”

His aura pressed into her like smoke and heat. The room seemed to shrink.

“I am the end of your life, Cerise. Your soul is already marked. Your blood—their gift to me. I owe you nothing.” He leaned closer, lips nearly brushing hers. “So, tell me…why would I waste my time?”

She hesitated, just a breath.

Then smirked.

The change in her expression made his eyes narrow.

“Because,” she whispered, “I know what you really want.”

He blinked.

“Entertainment,” she said, voice like silk over steel. “You’re not just here for a soul. You’re here for something worth taking.”

Cerise leaned in. Her bloodied palm cupped his cheek, smearing red across his perfect skin.

“I’ll give you a show no sacrifice ever dared to before. Just give me a taste of your power.”

Andras stilled.

In all his centuries, no offering had ever touched him like this. None had dared to stain his face, speak without fear, or offer him a deal with such venomous resolve.

This really took his interest, no doubt about that.

He let out a breathless laugh. “Tempting,” he murmured. “And if I say yes…will I regret it?”

She dropped her hand, meeting his gaze with fire. “Not unless you’re afraid of what I’ll do with it.”

For a beat, he said nothing. Then, without warning, he reached for her hand. His fingers laced with hers, his touch cold at first, then searing. She gasped as warmth rushed up her arm, spreading like lightning through her blood.

Her wounds sealed. The pain was gone.

And in its place…power.

A pulse of strength bloomed in her chest. Her limbs felt light. Her senses sharpened. Her rage found new form.

Andras smirked as he let go. “Very well, my bride.” He leaned close once more, his voice a whisper in her ear. “Surprise me.”

Looking at Andras, Cerise grinned, wild, crooked, and bloodstained.

She stood, her body no longer trembling from pain as it was then replaced by adrenaline. She then snatched the bloodied knife from the floor, the same one that had pierced her flesh. Without hesitation, she bolted toward the door and flung it open.

And there they were.

The Lyons family stood in formation just beyond the threshold, eyes closed in false serenity, chanting in unison. The fire crackled hungrily around them, masking the creak of the door as they continued their ritual, unaware of what now loomed in front of them.

Still naked, Andras strolled behind her, leaning lazily against the doorframe, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched the chaos unravel.

Cerise didn’t walk…she charged.

Like a possessed animal, like a spirit ripped from hell itself, she sprinted toward the Lyons patriarch. Her face twisted into a manic snarl, and her voice rang out like a serial killer.

“I told you…I’m going to get you all. One. By. Fucking. One!”

A shriek tore through the night as the blade slashed through the air and sliced across the old man's chest.

“You…how is she—how is she alive?!”

“HAAAH!”

Cerise bellowed, kicking the eldest son to the ground without even looking. Her eyes were locked on the patriarch as she tackled him, straddling his chest like a predator with its prey.

“Get her off! Get her off me! You filthy bitch!”

But Cerise only laughed. She laughed like a madwoman drunk on vengeance.

Power surged through her—hot, electric, godlike. Andras had gifted her something dark and terrible, and now she had to make him proud.

She raised the knife in both hands and brought it crashing down into the man’s chest. Then again. And again.

Over and over…

Screams echoed around her. The ritual broke, the family scattered in terror, like priests of sacrifice now running from their chosen offering.

Andras smiled. His wife-to-be, soul-bound to him, stood bathed in blood and fury. What a marvel she was—this broken little human turned rabid beast. He hadn’t seen anything like her in centuries.

“Fuck. You. And. Your. Entire. Fucking. Family!”

Cerise punctuated each word with a stab, until the body beneath her was unrecognizable. Her face, hands, legs…all soaked in gore. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her arms trembled.

“I’ve waited…my entire fucking life for this…”

The knife slipped from her fingers, clattering against the wet floor. Yet, the silence was deafening.

Only the crackling fire and her heaving breath remained. She looked up, eyes darting around. Her remaining targets were gone, vanished in the panic.

“Shit,” she muttered, her tongue clicking in frustration.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Cerise stepped back into the scorched storage room, barefoot on the ash and blood, as if she had just risen from the underworld itself.

Andras clapped slowly, the sound echoing in the silence like a mocking ovation.

“Well,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips, “You were right. You gave me one hell of a show.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she shoved him hard, enough to catch him off guard and knock him to the floor. His brows lifted in surprise.

“What are you—”

But he stopped.

His eyes narrowed, watching her snap her fingers. The blood that stained her body evaporated into embers, revealing smooth, unmarked skin. She radiated raw power—unstable, temporary, but intoxicating.

How did she make this temporary power hers, as if it has always been with her?

He chuckled. “You…who are you now?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she met his gaze with a smirk, eyes heavy with purpose and something else.

Danger, desire, defiance.

And then, slowly, deliberately, she began to undress.

Andras’s breath hitched. For once, he didn’t speak. He simply watched—starving—with unblinking eyes as her clothes fell away, revealing a body that looked carved for sin, for worship. A woman forged in fire and vengeance.

“No need to reintroduce myself as your bride and future wife, Andras Caelum,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “This is your reward.”

“Reward?” he echoed, intrigued.

She climbed atop him, reversing the roles. The hunter is now caged beneath his prey.

It was a first—an offering who didn’t cower, who didn’t plead. A woman who met the demon's hunger with her own.

He had taken countless lives, devoured souls without remorse, twisted fate with a flick of his hand. But this…Cerise?

She was exceptional.

She kissed him, fierce and wild, igniting something ancient within him. He responded, not as a predator, but as a man who had just found his equal.

The flames surrounding them flared with their passion, licking the walls, illuminating the storage room in flickers of red and gold. Shadows danced on the outside, grotesque and beautiful, echoing the chaos within.

“Mmm…”

“Fuck…”

Cerise clawed at his back, marking him, claiming him. She rode the rhythm he set, his hands anchoring her hips as he drove deeper, harder, matching her intensity, stoking the fire between them until she was no longer thinking—only feeling.

She wanted to forget. Just for now. The betrayal, the blood, the screams.

Just this moment. Just this power. Just this demon.

“Mmm! Aaah…”

Their bodies moved in sync, unholy and divine, until everything blurred. Pain into pleasure, rage into release.

Cerise bit her lip, gasping, the irony crashing over her. Heaven did exist, and ironically…

A demon had just dragged her into it, giving it to her.

Andras smirked, watching her unravel under him. He’d never been proud of a human before—never wanted one.

Not until now.

This time, he kissed her. Deep. Possessive. Final. Their tongues tangled like flames twisting in the wind, and somewhere in the middle of it all, he decided…

She wasn’t just a bride. She was his.

Forever.

“Cerise Whitlock…”

He whispered her name, his voice gravel and velvet as he pulled her tight against his chest, her body shivering with the aftershock of pleasure.

And she, on the brink of unconsciousness, didn’t resist.

“You’re mine. You’re fucking mine.”

And with that, she let the dark take her.