There was no pain.
My body, which I remembered breaking, bleeding, burning from the Guild’s spellwork… felt whole. Warm. Alive.
My fingers skimmed my ribs. Smooth. No bruises. No gashes.
“How…?” I whispered.
“You shouldn’t move yet.”
I turned sharply—his voice wrapping around me before I saw him.
Rheon sat in the corner of the room, shadows clinging to his figure like a loyal second skin. His eyes were molten silver in the dim light, hair tousled like he hadn’t slept. He wore no armor now—just black linen pants and a loose shirt half-buttoned, revealing the edge of the mating mark glowing faintly on his collarbone.
“I should be dead,” I said.
“You were dying,” he corrected gently. “But the bond… it wouldn’t let you.”
I sat up, slowly, carefully.
“Tell me.”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“The fated bond between demon and consort isn’t just emotion, Seori. It’s… survival. Protection. Power. When it activates, our bodies begin to mirror each other. Pain, pleasure, even healing.”
“You healed me,” I said, voice barely audible.
“No,” he said, and walked toward me. “Wehealed each other.”
“Our bond recognized the threat. It gave everything it had to keep you alive.”
“Even if it nearly broke me in the process.”
He reached the edge of the bed. His fingers hovered near my arm, but didn’t touch.
“You’ve been asleep for three days. I didn’t leave your side.”
I looked down at my hands.
“I felt you.”
Rheon nodded once.
“I felt you, too.”
The silence between us now wasn’t strained—it was full. Full of questions I wasn’t ready to ask. Full of truths I wasn’t ready to face.
But I was ready for one thing. I reached out and placed my hand on his chest—right over the mark that bound us. It pulsed beneath my palm.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I whispered.
“No,” he said, voice low. “But it was always meant for you.”
“You are my fire and my undoing, Seori.”
“And I would burn forever if it meant keeping you alive.”
In that moment, it wasn’t the bond that drew us together…
