Lyra's POV
The silence in the room was heavy, thicker than the velvet drapes that hung across the cold stone walls. My skin still tingled from where the robe had clung to me. I had eaten, yes—but not nearly enough to settle the storm in my chest. My breath felt too loud in this silence.
Then I felt it.
The air around me shifted—tightened. Like something ancient and powerful had entered the room without sound or warning.
He was here.
I turned slowly, heartbeat stuttering.
The Demon God stood at the foot of the bed, black robes hanging from his shoulders like smoke, his eyes burning with darkness deeper than the void. No sound had marked his arrival. No footsteps. He simply was—a presence that eclipsed all thought and reason.
His gaze swept over me, slow, deliberate. Like he was tasting me with his eyes. Like he already owned me.
He said nothing at first.
Then, finally, in that deep voice that seemed to vibrate through the stone itself:
"Strip."
I flinched. My breath caught.
"I—I won't," I said, even though my voice trembled and my legs were unsteady beneath me.
He didn't move. But I felt it—the crackle in the air.
A slow, dangerous smirk curved his perfect mouth.
"Don't tempt me," he said softly. "No one dares defy my order."
The moment his words hit the air, I was no longer standing.
I gasped—my body had flown to him, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. His hand wrapped around my throat—not enough to choke, but enough to make me know who held power here. Who held me.
I didn't even know how I got to him.
His grip was cold at first, then warm. His touch burned without fire. I stared up at him, helpless and breathless, heart thudding against his palm.
Up close, he looked almost wrong in how beautiful he was.
Sharp cheekbones carved like marble, lips made for sin, hair darker than midnight that flowed past his shoulders like silk dipped in shadow. His skin was pale and perfect, glowing faintly like starlight kissed it. And those eyes—those black, endless eyes that saw straight through me.
He let go.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping, hands flying to my neck.
He didn't offer comfort. He didn't speak again.
He simply vanished—disappearing in a wisp of smoke, only to reappear on the bed. Seated at the edge, legs spread slightly, posture lazy. As if he had all the time in the world to play with me.
"Now," he said again, his voice echoing with command, "strip."
I didn't hesitate this time.
My fingers moved quickly, trembling as they undid the tie at the robe's waist. I let the black silk slide off my shoulders. It whispered to the floor.
I stood there, bare under his gaze. My red hair fell past my back in waves, curling at the ends, brushing over my hips like a veil.
He didn't blink. He didn't smile.
He vanished again.
And then I felt him behind me.
Hot breath kissed the back of my neck.
I froze.
A warm hand brushed my long hair from my back, dragging it forward over my shoulder. Exposing the strange mark that had always been there—the dragon curled against my spine.
His fingertips touched the tattoo—so gentle, it sent a shiver down my spine. He traced it like he was reading something ancient.
"You don't even know what this means," he murmured. His voice was close, right in my ear. It made me ache and panic all at once.
His fingers were slow and sure as they followed the dragon's curves. He didn't touch me anywhere else—just that mark. Over and over, as if he was reminding me.
You're mine.
I didn't speak. I couldn't. My throat was dry, my knees weak. And still, I stood there, frozen under his power.
"I chose you," he said, "because your body was made for mine. It called to me."
"I—what are you—" I started.
But he had already stepped away.
He walked back to the bed, slow and deliberate, the room darkening around him.
"I know you're untrained," he said, like he was talking to himself more than to me.
Then he snapped his fingers.
A soft click sounded—and a hidden door opened.
From it stepped a woman.
She was breathtaking. All curves and honey-colored skin, wrapped in sheer silks that did nothing to hide her figure. Her hair was long and black, her lips painted blood-red. And the way she walked—it was like she was born for seduction.
Seravine.
"Yes, my lord," she said with a bow, her eyes flicking to me once.
He looked straight at me.
Then he began to remove his robes.
"What—what are you doing?" I asked, panic seeping back in.
But I couldn't move.
A force pushed me back into the chair behind me. I hit it hard, and before I could even rise, glowing chains wrapped around my wrists. They held me fast.
My eyes widened in shock.
"You're going to watch us," he said with a devil's smile.
His robe fell to the floor like water, revealing everything.
I gasped and tried to look away—but something in me refused. His presence was magnetic, oppressive. I couldn't look away. His body was sculpted like a god's—because he was one. Lean muscle, smooth skin, runes that shimmered faintly on his chest and arms. And lower. He was hard.
Large. Too large.
My entire body froze. I couldn't move, couldn't stop staring, though my face burned with shame and disbelief.
He walked back to the bed with that same calm confidence, sitting again—only now fully exposed. His eyes never left mine. Even as Seravine walked toward him, gracefully undressing with slow, practiced fingers, he watched me.
I swallowed hard.
Seravine knelt before him, removing her silks one by one. She crawled between his legs and leaned in slowly.
The Demon Lord didn't even glance at her.
He watched me.
She didn't hesitate. Her mouth wrapped around his cock slowly, expertly. Her head bobbed, her hands moved, and a soft moan escaped her lips as she pleased him.
But he didn't look at her.
He stared at me.
The entire time.
I wanted to look away. I wanted to shut my eyes. But I couldn't. I didn't dare defy him again.
My legs trembled. I didn't even realize I had clenched my fists until the chains rattled.
This was wrong.
So wrong.
His face was relaxed now, enjoying the pleasure—but it was still cold. Still in control. He didn't groan. He didn't flinch. He just sat there like a king being worshipped.
Like a god showing me what I could never control.
He was reminding me.
This is power. This is mine.
And you will obey.