The forest was alive with shadows, the trees whispering secrets in the cold night air. The scent of blood still clung to the wind, but no more threats emerged. Azrael carried Celeste effortlessly, his grip firm yet careful, as though she were something fragile, something irreplaceable. The steady thud of his heartbeat vibrated against her cheek, grounding her even as fear still curled in her stomach.
Celeste remained stiff in his arms, her fingers curled into the fabric of his cloak. The earlier attack had shaken her to her core, but this—being so close to him—left her in an entirely different kind of turmoil. He was too warm, too strong, too… overwhelming.
"I can walk," she murmured, barely above a whisper.
Azrael's crimson eyes flickered downward, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You're exhausted."
"I—" she hesitated, unsure of what to say. He was right. Her body felt weak, her limbs trembling even as she tried to compose herself. Still, the weight of being in his arms made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't understand.
Gemma walked beside them, her sharp gaze observing everything. "He's right, my lady. You should rest while you can."
Celeste bit her lip, glancing away. The word 'lady' still felt strange, like a title that didn't belong to her anymore. She wasn't just a noble's daughter—she was the wife of the Demon Alpha King. A man—or rather, a creature—whose presence commanded both fear and unwavering loyalty.
As they continued through the thickening woods, a chilling wind brushed past them. The night was heavy with silence, save for the occasional rustling of leaves. After a while, they reached a ruined stone structure, its broken pillars standing like forgotten sentinels beneath the moonlight.
"We'll rest here," Azrael announced, his voice carrying authority.
Rylan immediately began inspecting the area while Gemma gathered materials to start a fire. Azrael, however, didn't set Celeste down immediately. Instead, he lowered his head slightly, his breath fanning against her temple.
"You are shaking," he murmured, his voice almost gentle. "Are you cold?"
Celeste stiffened at his proximity. "N-No, I just…" she trailed off, unable to put her emotions into words. How could she explain the unease in her heart? The way her own body betrayed her when he was near?
Azrael's gaze lingered on her, unreadable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he set her down, his hands lingering at her waist for just a second longer than necessary before he finally pulled away. The absence of his warmth made her shiver.
Gemma appeared beside her, offering a reassuring smile. "Here, my lady," she said, wrapping a thick fur around Celeste's shoulders. "It's not much, but it will help."
Celeste clutched the fur tightly, offering Gemma a small nod of gratitude. She wasn't used to kindness—not like this.
Azrael, standing a few feet away, kept his back turned to her, his stance rigid. He was watching the forest, guarding them all. Even in silence, his presence was commanding, his aura exuding something both dangerous and strangely protective.
Celeste lowered her gaze. She didn't understand him. He was ruthless in battle, terrifying in power, yet… he had held her so carefully, spoken to her with a patience she never expected.
As the fire crackled, casting flickering shadows against the ruined stone, Celeste found herself staring at him longer than she should have. And for the first time since this journey began, she wondered if there was more to the Demon Alpha King than the fearsome title he carried.
But she was too afraid to find out.
Curling into the warmth of the fur, she let exhaustion pull her under, her last thoughts lingering on the man who had saved her… and the mystery he carried with him.
The fire crackled, the scent of burning wood mixing with the cool, damp air of the forest. The moonlight filtered through the dense trees, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. The wind whispered among the branches, but even in this remote part of the world, there was a heaviness that lingered. A tension that hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Celeste sat huddled in the fur cloak, her fingers tightly clutching the edges as she gazed into the fire, her thoughts swirling. The night had been long, and her body was exhausted, but it was her mind that refused to quiet. The terrifying encounter with the shadowed creatures earlier still lingered in her thoughts. Despite the distant safety of the camp, her heart raced every time she closed her eyes.
But then, there was Azrael.
He stood in the distance, his back straight, his gaze scanning the forest, watching the shadows like a predator. His presence was suffocating, both powerful and unnerving. She could feel him—his every move, his every breath, even when he wasn't speaking. There was something about him, something dark, that sent shivers down her spine, even though his silence was often more comforting than his words.
"Are you cold?" Gemma's voice was a soft interruption to her thoughts.
Celeste blinked, looking up to find Gemma's gentle eyes on her. The kindness in the woman's gaze was a welcome distraction, but Celeste couldn't shake the feeling that she was out of place here. Her old life seemed so far away, a dream that had slipped beyond her reach. She wasn't the daughter of a noble family anymore. She was something else entirely.
"I'm fine," Celeste replied softly, though her voice betrayed the tremor of fear she still carried inside. She wasn't fine. Not at all.
Gemma smiled, though there was a sadness in her eyes. She didn't push further, instead moving closer to the fire. Her attention turned to the logs, as she added more to the flame.
Celeste's gaze drifted back to Azrael, but this time, he was looking at her. His crimson eyes locked onto hers with such intensity that she could feel her breath hitch in her chest. For a moment, the world around her seemed to stop. The fire crackled loudly in her ears, but his gaze consumed her. He moved closer, his footsteps silent despite the ground beneath him.
When he finally reached her, his eyes shifted, glowing softly in the dim light. A deep, unnatural green took over, and she realized with a jolt that he was trying to soften himself for her, to hide the intensity of his true nature.
"You don't have to pretend to be okay," Azrael's voice was a quiet command, but there was something else in it. Something she couldn't place. His eyes softened even more as he knelt beside her, his presence warm but demanding.
Celeste recoiled slightly, instinctively pulling the fur tighter around her. There was a distance in her that she couldn't bridge, no matter how kind his words seemed. How could she trust him when she didn't even understand him? He was the Demon Alpha King, a creature beyond her comprehension.
"I'm not pretending," she whispered, barely above a breath. Her heart pounded against her chest, and for a moment, she wondered if he could hear it.
Azrael tilted his head slightly, watching her with a mixture of understanding and something darker, something possessive. His gaze shifted once more, and she saw the briefest flicker of red behind his eyes, like a flame burning just beneath the surface. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, hidden beneath the green.
"You don't need to be afraid," he said, his voice deeper now, as if trying to reach something buried deep within her. "I won't hurt you. I swear it."
Celeste's breath faltered. "But you're… not human," she said, her words shaking despite her efforts to keep them steady. "What if I'm not strong enough for this? What if I fail?"
Azrael's gaze softened, and for the first time, she saw something beyond the Demon Alpha King. It was a flicker of something… protectiveness, perhaps? The man beneath the power?
"You don't have to be strong, Celeste. You don't have to be anything but yourself," Azrael whispered, his eyes now a calm, soothing green. His hand slowly reached out, but he paused, studying her with a quiet intensity.
Despite the wariness still lingering in her heart, Celeste found herself drawn to him. His presence, both terrifying and comforting, was a contradiction that she couldn't resolve. He was too much for her, yet he was also the only thing keeping her from breaking.
"I'll help you," he continued softly, his hand brushing against hers in a gesture so gentle that Celeste froze, her heart pounding in her chest. "But only if you let me."
Celeste's mind raced. Her instincts told her to pull away, to hide from him, but her body, her heart, seemed to disagree. She had never known such care, not like this. Not like him.
She looked down at their hands, his large, strong fingers resting lightly on hers, as if waiting for her to decide.
"I… I don't know what I'm supposed to feel," she confessed quietly, her voice breaking under the weight of her own vulnerability.
Azrael's gaze darkened for a moment, and his hand shifted, wrapping gently around hers. The warmth of his skin sent a jolt through her, and she realized just how much she craved the comfort he was offering. It was unsettling how natural it felt to be close to him, even though everything in her told her she should be terrified.
"You don't have to know," he said, his voice hushed but powerful. "You just have to trust me. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not now, not ever."
For the first time, Celeste looked up at him, really looked at him. The Demon Alpha King. His crimson eyes, glowing now with something raw, something fierce, held hers in an unspoken promise. A promise that was both terrifying and, in some strange way, reassuring.
The night was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of her racing heartbeat. And for the first time, Celeste didn't pull away.