Aurelia Voss did not believe in demons.
She believed in loopholes, technicalities, and the kind of silence that followed a well-worded threat.
The elevator ride to the forty-first floor took exactly twelve seconds. Aurelia spent them straightening her cuffs, checking the weight of her tablet in her hand, and reminding herself—calmly—that this was just another client.
A dangerous one, yes.
Illegal, possibly.
Supernatural, allegedly.
But still a client.
The doors slid open without a sound.
The top floor of Blackthorne Tower was not owned by any company listed in public records. The lights were dimmer here, tinted faintly gold, and the air carried a strange pressure—like standing too close to a storm without hearing thunder.
Aurelia stepped out anyway.
Her heels echoed once.
Then stopped.
The conference room was empty.
No assistants. No security. No opposing counsel. Just a long obsidian table, a single chair on one side, and floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city stretched beneath them like a living thing—neon veins pulsing through concrete flesh.
She frowned.
"Unprofessional," she muttered, placing her tablet on the table.
The temperature dropped.
Not suddenly.
Deliberately.
Aurelia stiffened, then relaxed herself. Fear was a reaction. Reactions gave leverage. She turned slowly, already preparing the sharp remark she would deliver—
And froze.
He was standing behind her.
She had not heard the door open. She had not heard footsteps. She had not felt anything until now.
He was tall—unfairly so—dressed in a black suit that fit like it had been designed around his body rather than tailored for it. His presence bent the room subtly inward, shadows leaning toward him as if curious.
His eyes were gold.
Not glowing.
Watching.
"Miss Voss," he said, voice smooth and deep, like velvet dragged over steel. "You're late."
Aurelia checked her watch without looking away from him.
"You summoned me for nine p.m.," she replied coolly. "It's eight fifty-eight."
A pause.
Then the corner of his mouth lifted.
"How refreshing," he murmured. "A human who counts minutes."
She raised an eyebrow. "And you are…?"
He stepped closer.
The air tightened. Aurelia felt it along her spine—not fear, not desire, but awareness. Like standing across from someone who could end you and choosing not to blink.
"Kaelreth," he said. "You may address me as Lord Kaelreth, but I suspect you won't."
"You suspect correctly," Aurelia replied.
She extended a hand.
He looked at it.
Then at her.
Something unreadable passed through his expression.
Finally, he took it.
His skin was warm. Warmer than human. The contact sent a brief, sharp pulse through her palm—magic, maybe—but she didn't pull away.
"Let's sit," she said. "I don't bill for intimidation."
A soft laugh escaped him as he moved to the opposite chair. "You're already billing me for courage."
She sat, crossed her legs, and activated her tablet. A holographic document shimmered into existence between them, dense with clauses, annotations, and faintly glowing symbols woven between the lines.
Kaelreth's gaze dropped to it.
Interest flickered.
"You came prepared," he said.
"I always do."
"You know what I am."
"I know what you're classified as," Aurelia corrected. "Demon. High-tier. Non-corporeal origin. Operating illegally within human jurisdiction."
His smile sharpened.
"And yet here I am."
"And yet," she said calmly, "you called a lawyer."
Silence pressed down between them.
The city lights flickered far below.
Kaelreth leaned back, folding his hands. "Tell me, Miss Voss—do you understand how many humans have tried to bind me?"
"I'm sure it's a depressing number," she replied. "None of them used contracts enforceable under Infernal and Human Law."
That earned her his full attention.
"You're proposing a mutual agreement," he said slowly.
"Yes."
"You offer me protection."
"Legal protection," she said. "Within this realm."
"And in return?"
"You lend me your services."
His eyes darkened slightly. "You want power."
"I want leverage."
A beat.
Then he laughed—low, genuine, dangerous.
"Oh, you are fascinating."
She didn't smile back. "Clause seven. No possession. No manipulation of free will. No soul claims, direct or indirect."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You deny me everything worth taking."
"I deny you everything illegal."
He tilted his head. "You think law restrains me?"
"I know it does," she said. "Or you wouldn't be here."
The room pulsed.
Just once.
Kaelreth stared at her as if seeing her properly for the first time.
"You're not afraid of me," he said.
"I am," she replied evenly. "Fear just doesn't control my decisions."
"Careful," he murmured. "That's how obsession begins."
Her fingers paused briefly over the tablet.
Then she met his gaze again. "Clause twelve. Any harm done to me by external entities will be considered breach of contract."
"And my obligation?" he asked softly.
"To protect me."
Something dangerous sparked between them.
"You bind yourself to me," he said. "You understand what that means?"
"Yes."
"Every enemy I have will notice you."
"Yes."
"And if I grow… attached?"
Her heart skipped.
Just once.
"That," she said, voice steady, "will be your problem, not mine."
He smiled slowly, eyes burning gold.
"You're wrong," he said. "It will be yours."
Aurelia slid the contract closer.
"Sign," she said. "Or walk away."
For a long moment, Kaelreth didn't move.
Then black flame licked along his fingers—not burning, not consuming—just existing.
He pressed his thumb to the page.
The runes flared.
The contract sealed.
The building shuddered.
Far below, something ancient stirred.
Kaelreth exhaled, expression shifting—less amused now, more intent.
"Well," he murmured. "You've just made yourself untouchable."
"Good," Aurelia said. "I hate messy cases."
He stood, towering over her.
"From this moment on," he said quietly, "you are under my protection."
She rose to meet him eye to eye.
"And from this moment on," she replied, "you answer to me."
Their gazes locked.
Something irrevocable passed between them.
A contract.
A threat.
The beginning of a disaster neither law nor hell could undo.