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Vesper didn’t chain the beast out of cruelty. He bound his soul to save it. He understands what it means to be trapped. To have your freedom stripped away. He knows what it feels like to be treated as a monster by others who are far more corrupt than any cryptid in the dark.

As full consciousness settles over me, I realize something else has changed. My mind is no longer entirely my own.

A vibrant, paranormal thread hums quietly in the center of my chest. It’s a strange, intoxicating link. I can feel the faint rumble of the Devil Dog’s satisfaction, mixed with Vesper’s distant, watchful protectiveness echoing from his study. It should probably feel invasive or strange. It should terrify me to know that my thoughts and heart are open to a demon and an ancient shadow beast. Instead, it feels…right. So, fucking right.

I pull the thick duvet closer around my shoulders, tucking my legs up against my chest as I stare out the window at the foggy Pacific.

I sort through the chaotic range of emotions swirling in my head. By every rational thought, I should be trying to find a way to escape, terrified of what I’ve become. I’m marked by a monster and surrounded by paranormal shit I don’t understand. All while my abusive ex and his goons search the woods just beyond the magic wards.

And yet, terror isn’t what I’m feeling.

In its place are safety and curiosity. The will to live. Gregory’s picture-perfect life in town was a gilded cage designed to suffocate me. A sterile prison of lies, molded to fit a political aesthetic on the surface. Vesper’s estate, dark and terrifying as it is, is a safe haven. Gregory wanted to display me like a trophy he passed around. Vesper wants a partner, someone he respects.

What I feel for Vesper isn’t Stockholm syndrome, or compliance born from our deal. It’s an intoxicating addiction.

It’s a dangerous, thrilling poison flooding my veins, and as I sit here tracing the edge of the magical brand on my neck, I realize I love the rush. I want more of the shadows. More of the heat. More of his sensual brand of danger.

My mind drifts back, helplessly pulled to the events of last night.

A sensual shiver rolls down my spine as I replay the primal chase frame by frame. I remember the panic of bolting through the woods, while terror twisted into a desperate arousal the moment those glowing blue and crimson eyes began their hunt.

I remember what it felt like to be pressed against the iron gates, standing mere feet from the man who used to own me, completely invisible to him. I feel the phantom pressure of Vesper’s clawed fingers wrapping around my throat, tilting my head back into a devastating grip, like a sinful hand necklace I want to display to the world. I hear his voice murmuring filthy, taboo promises right against my ear, asking what he should do with Gregory, edging me closer and closer to the edge of sanity.

My cock throbs between my thighs, growing hard at the memory.

I remember the exact second I spilled onto his hand, the desperate cry of total surrender, and the shattering realization that letting go of my control to a predator didn’t feel like giving up.

It felt like finally being able to live freely.

The vulnerability of submission isn’t a cage; it’s power.

I throw the duvet back, swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress, my bare feet touching the cold floor. The mark on my neck vibrates, silently pointing me to the heart of this estate. To the center of the manor, where a lethal blue demon waits for me.

Let Gregory and his men keep searching. Let the whole fucking world outside burn.

I’m not that broken person he tried to keep. I’m different. Marked. Claimed. And so fucking ready to see what shadows my pretty demon and cryptid have waiting for me.

***

I dress in a tight green sweater and black jeans. The sweater has a deep scoop, but my fingers linger over the collar to ensure it rests just low enough to leave the dark, glowing mark on my neck completely exposed. I’m not hiding myself. Not anymore.

Standing in the center of my bedchamber, I close my eyes and take a slow, deliberate breath. I focus on the center of my chest, searching for that shimmering thread of magic.

There it is. I’m shocked at how easily I find it, almost as if it’s always been a part of me. It pulls at my chest like a delicate golden tether. I give it an experimental tug in my mind.

Across the estate, a sudden wave of dark warmth washes back through the bond—a sharp, surprised intake of breath from Vesper, followed immediately by the deep hum of the Devil Dog waking from its slumber.

A breathless, exhilarated laugh escapes my lips. It fucking works. The connection is real.

The hollow loneliness that had settled into my heart over the last several months—the quiet ache of being isolated from Oakley, from my art, and from the world—evaporates. I’m no longer alone in the dark. I’m tethered to powerful entities who look at me as something to be cherished rather than controlled. For the first time since I fled Gregory’s house, a steady realization takes root in my chest.

I am home.

A flutter of nervous insecurity tightens my stomach as I step out into the hallway. Does Vesper feel the same? Or is this bond just some involuntary magic thanks to our deal? Can I trust this link, or is it just another pretty lie?

No. Something tells me this magical connection is real and stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

I follow the invisible pull of the bond down the grand stone staircase, past the conservatory, and deep into the west wing of the estate. The tether grows brighter, vibrating with every step I take until I stop before a set of large oak doors etched with faint runes.