Rayne

I stared at the little witch. She had spared the man. And for what?

He would get drunk again. He would find another woman. He would repeat the same despicable behavior, over and over, until someone somewhere stopped him—which rarely happened. Humans were creatures of patterns, no matter how vile. Society was so quick to gloss over this kind of behavior, to excuse it or simply look the other way.

I had offered her justice—swift and absolute—but she had chosen mercy.

I vaulted to the rooftop, landing in a crouch, my movements silent as a shadow. She was there, trembling and wide-eyed, the chill of the autumn evening clinging to her like a second skin.

I had seen fear on countless faces before, but something about hers struck a discordant note inside me. Her fear wasn't for herself—it wasn't the fear of a victim. No, it was fear of me.

I didn't like it.

My poor little pet.

I wove my fingers through the air, summoning my jacket. With a flick of my wrist, I tossed it to her. "Put this on. Your teeth chattering is giving me a migraine."

She stared at the garment as if it were cursed. The mistrust in her eyes stung more than it should have. After all, I had just saved her, hadn't I?

"It's Armani," I groaned. "It won't kill you."

Finally, she took it, wrapping it tightly around herself. I considered summoning a fur coat or whisking us away to somewhere warmer, but the hesitation in her movements—like a bird poised to flee—made me think better of it. Perhaps I needed to start small.

"Are you alright?" I asked, the words coming out sharper than I intended.

There was still a red mark on her face which irritated me. I could kill a man, but I couldn't heal him - which meant I couldn't heal her.

She didn't answer right away, her gaze darting from me to the edge of the roof as if weighing her escape routes. "You were going to kill that man," she said at last, her voice raw and thready.

Her words were an accusation, a reminder of what I was. I felt my lips curl into the faintest sneer. "He was about to defile you, little witch," I said, irritation threading into my tone. "I wasn't about to let that happen."

Her expression softened for a fraction of a second before her shoulders stiffened again, her blue eyes narrowing. "It's funny," she murmured, almost to herself. "I didn't think a demon would disapprove of such things."

I arched an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest. "Oh, on the contrary. It is our business to punish the wicked for their evil deeds—and that one will pay. Do not think for a moment he is free of his crime."

A flicker of dark satisfaction curling in my chest as I thought of my younger brother, Axl, who would welcome the man's soul into his dominion. I would see to it personally that the punishment he escaped tonight would be waiting for him in death.

"Rayne," she said hesitantly, her voice unsure. "Why did you save me?"

The question struck harder than it should have. I clenched my fists, forcing the dark thoughts to dissipate, and plastered on an easy smile. "It suited me."

Her brows knit together in confusion.

I sighed, closing the space between us. "You are important to me," I explained carefully. "And as such, you need to be protected."

"Important?" she repeated, her tone suspicious.

"We are bonded," I said again, more firmly this time, holding her gaze. "Your magic has tied me to you, and while it allows me to remain here, it also... benefits you."

Skyler raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Benefits me? In what way?"

I sighed, suppressing the flicker of irritation that her skepticism always seemed to stir. "You're tethered to a demon, little witch. That means protection, power, and influence that few could dream of. You might not understand what you've done, but the bond between us is... significant."

Her eyes narrowed, her suspicion unwavering. "Significant how?"

I took a measured step closer, allowing my voice to drop, smooth and coaxing. "Do you realize what that kind of connection can offer you? With me at your side, no one would dare harm you. The kind of power I can grant you... mortals would kill for it."

I lifted a hand and snapped my fingers. A shimmer of light flickered in the air, and when it cleared, a diamond necklace glimmered in my palm. It sparkled, cold and brilliant, the kind of trinket mortals couldn't resist.

"This," I said, holding it up, "is only the beginning. Wealth, power, influence—I can give you anything you want."

I held the necklace out to her, expecting her awe, her hesitation, perhaps even a glimmer of greed. It was how mortals always reacted when they caught a glimpse of what they could gain.

But Skyler simply stared at it, her brows furrowing slightly. Then, to my utter astonishment, she shook her head.

"No, thank you," she said softly.

I blinked, thrown off balance. "What?"

"I don't want diamonds," she said, her voice steady. "They're... pretty, I guess. But they're cold, lifeless."

My grip tightened around the necklace, the sharp edges biting into my palm. "Then what would you want?" I asked, unable to keep the faint edge of frustration from creeping into my tone.

Skyler tilted her head, considering me for a moment, her gaze far too knowing. "Flowers," she said finally. "I'd rather have flowers in my hair than diamonds around my neck."

The simplicity of her answer hit me like a punch to the gut. Flowers. She wanted flowers.

I stared at her, my thoughts scrambling for purchase. Mortals were supposed to be predictable, driven by their desires for wealth, beauty, power—things I could grant with a flick of my wrist. But Skyler didn't fit into any of those tidy little categories. She was...

Different.

And I hadn't accounted for that.

"You'd trade diamonds for flowers?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she shrugged. "Diamonds are just rocks. Flowers are alive. They mean something."

I opened my mouth, then closed it, the words refusing to come. This girl, this perplexing, infuriating girl, had just tossed aside what most mortals would kill for without a second thought.

"I'm offering you power," I said finally, my voice low and insistent. "Protection. Things that matter."

"Those things might matter to you," she replied evenly, meeting my gaze with quiet defiance. "But I don't need them."

My temper flared, hot and immediate, but I forced it down, smoothing my expression into something neutral.

"You don't understand what you've tied yourself to," I said, my tone softer now, almost coaxing. "The bond between us—it isn't something you can undo on a whim. You've invited me into your life, whether you meant to or not, and that comes with consequences."

"Like having you boss me around?" she shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"No," I said sharply, stepping closer, my eyes narrowing. "Like having me protect you from things that would tear you apart without hesitation. Like having someone to guard you, to keep you alive. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need me."

Her expression softened, just slightly, but there was still that spark of resistance in her eyes. "And what do you need, Rayne?"

The question caught me off guard, and I faltered. What did I need? Her compliance? Her trust? The simplicity of using her as a tether without complication?

I forced a smirk, trying to mask the unease that twisted in my chest. "It doesn't matter what I need. You've already given me what I require: a place in this realm. I'm here, and for now, you're stuck with me."

She frowned, studying me as though she were trying to peel back the layers I'd worked so hard to construct. I didn't like it.

"I don't trust you," she said finally, her voice steady.

"And I don't require your trust," I replied coolly. "Only your obedience."

Her eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought she might command me again, might try to test the boundaries of the bond. Instead, she turned away, shaking her head.

"I don't know what I've gotten myself into," she muttered, more to herself than to me.

I watched her retreat, the diamond necklace still clutched in my hand, its cold brilliance suddenly feeling... wrong.

Flowers over diamonds.

She was nothing like the humans I was used to. And that, I realised, might be more dangerous than anything else.