The storm was over, but the hush that lingered felt heavier than the rain. Isabella's hand paused above the dagger; a faint, searing heat brushed her skin, sharp as a whispered warning. She thought the storm would quiet her fear, yet each cold drop that soaked her coat bit into her bones like ice.safe"Once you touch it, there's no turning back," he said, his voice smooth enough to almost mask the threat beneath. "Once you touch it, there's no going back," he said, his voice silky, like a blade sliding free of its sheath, almost hiding the danger underneath. Just shy of it, like your fingers brushing the edge of a warm mug. She almost blurted out "no," the word sharp on her tongue. She itched to fling the dagger into the gutter, hear it clatter against the metal grate, and just walk away. But the shadows shifted again, restless now, their shapes stretching thin like fingers itching to tear her apart. Deep down, she knew those creatures wouldn't linger for a gentle "no" — they'd already begun to stir in the shadows. Her fingertips skimmed the hilt, cool metal catching against her skin. The blade came alive, not in flames, but with a deep, thrumming pulse — like a heartbeat you could feel in your bones. A jolt shot up her arm, sharp enough to make her gasp."Cut your palm," he instructed. "The Blood Oath is sealed in the wound."
The silver-eyed demon tilted its head in anticipation, a predator scenting the moment prey stops running. Lucien's lips curled in quiet satisfaction as he moved in, so close the cool rain hissed into steam between them."Cut your palm," he instructed."The Blood Oath seals itself in the wound." The silver-eyed demon tipped its head, waiting, like a predator catching the warm scent of prey gone still. Isabella lifted her chin and held it steady, the cold edge of the blade biting lightly against her skin.safeShadows deepened in the alley, the building edges fading into a blackness that seemed to swallow everything except the two of them. The shadows thickened until they shaped a ring of black fire, its dark tongues flickering over the dirt but giving off no heat. A low, ancient voice rose out of the air itself, as if it whispered from every shadow and corner at once. They've given blood, dark and warm as it left the vein."Say it," he ordered.
"What?"
"The words: I bind my blood to the Devil King."
Her throat tightened. The oath will hold fast, like a knot pulled tight.safesafe"I bind my blood to the Devil King."
The black fire surged higher, wrapping around them like a living thing. "Say it," he said, his voice sharp as the crack of a snapped twig."What?"
"The words—'I bind my blood to the Devil King.'"
Her throat cinched like a knot. It was like handing over the last piece of yourself. But she also knew that keeping silent meant she'd die here—maybe with the taste of dust in her mouth—or face something even worse. Her voice shook, yet the words slipped out, thin as a thread in the quiet."I bind my blood to the Devil King." Black fire roared upward, curling around them like hot, breathing smoke."It's done. The darkness crept closer, squeezing her chest until each breath felt thin and sharp. Then it was gone—just a sharp snap, like a twig breaking in your hand. She stood in the alley again, rain whispering against the pavement."What happens now?" she asked, her voice low.
safe"Now, Isabella Cruz, you survive long enough to understand what you've signed."
He walked toward the waiting car, the shadows peeling away from the walls to follow him. In its place lay a mark, dark as spilled ink, curling into the jagged shape of a crooked crown. Lucien let her go, his face giving nothing away."It's finished."safeThe mark throbbed against her skin, and an icy shiver raced down her spine.
The Devil's Feast
The car should've been quiet, yet around Lucien Drax, even the air hummed with restless noise. He didn't say a word, yet his presence seemed to curl through the room like smoke, wrapping around Isabella until the air felt too thin to draw in. The leather seat chilled her legs, yet the warmth rolling off him made the fine hairs on her arms stand up. She stared through the rain-streaked glass, tracking each smear of passing light as if it were the last thread tying her to reality."You're quiet," he said finally, his voice as smooth as aged whiskey and just as dangerous.
"Is there something I should be saying?" she asked, still staring outside.
"You're quiet," he said at last, his voice smooth like aged whiskey, carrying the same slow burn."Most people in your position beg. "Is there something I'm supposed to say?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the rain sliding down the glass. He let out a single, low chuckle that carried no warmth at all. Most folks in your spot end up pleading, their voices thin and shaky. Or strike a deal. You don't do either one. That catches my attention, but she stays silent. She kept quiet, afraid her voice would give away the quick, hard thud of her heartbeat."Where are we going?" she asked.
The city vanished, giving way to mile after mile of shadowy forest, where the air smelled faintly of damp pine."To fulfill the second part of your oath."
The words chilled her more than the air. "And what is that exactly?"
"You'll see."
The car slowed as an iron gate appeared out of the fog, its bars carved with symbols she didn't recognize but felt in her bones. Headlights pierced the mist, catching brief glints of weathered stone pillars tucked deep between the trees. The air thickened and chilled, as if the whole world paused, waiting, like frost creeping across a windowpane. She looked at him and asked, "Where are we going?"Lucien's gaze flicked to her, glinting in the low light like a cat's in the dark."To fulfill the second part of your oath." The words cut colder than the wind seeping through the cracked window."And what is it, exactly?"
"You'll see."
The car eased forward and slowed as an iron gate emerged from the fog, its cold bars etched with strange symbols she couldn't name but somehow felt deep in her chest. The gates swung open in silence, and they rolled into a courtyard where flames licked the air, burning black instead of gold. The door swung open, and the smell struck her—rich, metallic, sharp as a coin on her tongue. She stepped out at a measured pace, boots tapping sharply on the smooth stone floor."Welcome to the Feast," Lucien said, his hand lightly pressing her forward. "Every new oath is sealed here. A long banquet table sprawled before them, silver platters stacked with food so beautiful it gleamed—until she caught the sour tang that betrayed what lay beneath the garnish."Witnesses?"
He gestured toward the masked figures. "My court."
A woman in a mask shaped like a raven's skull rose gracefully from her seat. "The blood has been marked. Meat that was still cool and red in the center. Fruits that spilled red juice the moment the knife touched them."What—"
"He is the debt you inherited," Lucien said simply. "His life feeds your oath. Wine shimmered, thick and red, like sunlight caught in a drop of blood. Figures lined the table, faces concealed by ornate masks, while a low, steady murmur drifted through the dimly lit room. Every head swiveled when Lucien stepped inside, and the low hum of voices vanished like someone had shut a door."Welcome to the Feast," Lucien said, giving her a gentle push toward the candlelit room."I'm not killing him," she said, taking a step back.
Every fresh oath gets sealed right here, the wax still warm beneath your hand."You think you still have a choice?"
The raven-masked woman placed a dagger in Isabella's hand — the same blade from the alley, still warm, still pulsing with that strange, alien heartbeat.
In full view of the crowd, she swallowed hard."No," she said, her voice steady this time.
"Witnesses?" He nodded toward the masked figures, their dark lenses catching the light."Refuse here, and you forfeit the oath. "My court."
A woman wearing a raven‑skull mask rose from her seat, the black beak catching a glint of light."…you die. The blood's been marked, a dark smear catching the light. Two masked figures stepped forward, pushing through the crowd, and dragged a man into the open — his wrists tied tight, eyes wide and shining with fear. Isabella stopped cold, her breath catching in the back of her throat."What—"
"He's the debt you inherited," Lucien said, his voice as flat as a closed door. His life is the fire that keeps your oath alive.safeIsabella's stomach knotted, a tight pull that made her breath catch."Run."