"I won't lose you."
Kael's words didn't echo. They settled—heavy, intimate, meant only for her.
Elara didn't step back.
She didn't step forward either.
Instead, she asked the question that had been burning in her chest since the leash first tightened.
"Why?" she whispered.
Kael stilled.
Not guarded. Not defensive.
Just… still.
The wards hummed softly around them, reacting not to power, but to emotion threading through the bond like a slow, careful hand.
"Because," he said finally, voice low and bare, "everything in this place takes what it loves and breaks it until it fits."
His gaze dropped to her mouth, then rose again with visible effort.
"And I don't trust Hell with you."
The hunger stirred—then paused.
Elara felt it hesitate, confused by the sudden quiet inside her chest.
"You think I'll leave," she said.
"I know you might," Kael replied. "And I know what that would do to me."
The honesty landed harder than any command.
Elara swallowed. "You never said that."
"I wasn't allowed to," he said softly. "Not as a prince. Not as his son."
The distance between them felt unbearable now—not because of hunger, but because of want.
Elara took a single step closer.
Kael didn't retreat.
They stood so near she could feel the heat of him through the air, steady and restrained, like a fire held behind stone. Their breaths aligned without effort.
The bond loosened—not breaking, not tightening—just settling.
For the first time since Hell closed around her, Elara felt the hunger quiet without feeding.
"That's new," she murmured.
Kael's breath hitched. "You're grounding through me."
She looked up at him. "Not taking?"
"No," he said. "Choosing."
Slowly—carefully—Kael lifted his hand.
He stopped just short of touching her cheek, giving her time. Giving her choice.
Elara leaned into his palm.
The contact sent a soft, dangerous warmth through both of them. Not power. Not hunger.
Connection.
Kael closed his eyes briefly, as if steadying himself, his thumb brushing her cheek once—reverent, restrained, intimate in a way that made her chest ache.
"This is where it gets dangerous," he whispered.
"Because of Hell?" she asked.
"No," he said. "Because I don't want to stop."
He pulled his hand away before she could chase it.
The restraint hurt.
But it also made her trust him.
"I'll stay," Elara said quietly. "For now."
Kael's eyes snapped back to hers.
"But," she continued, "I choose when I feed. I train. I learn what I am. And when I leave this tower—because I will—you don't stop me."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Kael nodded once.
"Agreed," he said. "Even if it terrifies me."
The bond responded.
Not violently.
Not hungrily.
It deepened.
Elara gasped softly as something settled into place inside her—not a chain, not a pull, but a sense of being held without pressure.
Kael felt it too.
His expression shifted, awe and fear crossing his face in equal measure.
"This wasn't me," he said.
"No," Elara whispered. "Or me."
The bond had chosen.
That night, as they stood together in the sealed chamber, close but not touching, Elara understood something crucial:
Love hadn't freed them.
It had bound them willingly.
And somewhere far below, in a throne of fire and bone, the Devil King smiled—
Because this time,
the chain wrapped itself around them both.
And neither of them tried to pull away.