The room smelled of candlewax and iron. The heavy scent of something deeper, something animal, curled through the air like smoke, sinking into the damp stone walls of Ravenspire.

Elias stood still, heart hammering against his ribs, his bare feet cold against the floor.

He had been summoned.

And The Devil never summoned without reason.

A chair scraped against the stone. The voice that followed was smooth, patient—like a blade tracing the skin before the cut.

"Come here."

Elias swallowed. He could not see the man who spoke—no one ever could. The darkness at the other end of the room was absolute, his master hidden behind the veil of shadow, where no candle dared to burn.

And yet, Elias felt him.

Felt the weight of his stare.

Felt the way the air thickened with every passing second.

Felt the heat licking up his spine, his instincts screaming at him to run.

"Now."

Elias stepped forward, his knees weak, his pulse betraying him.

"Closer."

The heat of an unseen body brushed against his own. He could hear the breath just beside his ear, feel the gloved fingers grazing his wrist—light as a whisper, firm as a shackle.

"You broke my rule, Elias." The voice was no longer distant. It was right there, against the shell of his ear, his name wrapped in something that sent a sharp pulse of need—of fear—down his spine. "You looked."

The fingers tightened.

Elias gasped, only to feel the hand slide higher, curling around his throat with a slow, deliberate pressure. He could still breathe—but just barely.

"Do you know what happens to those who disobey me?"

"….!!"

"Forgive me just this once master, I would never dare to seek your face.."

A thumb traced the column of his throat, pressing just enough to feel his racing pulse.

"They learn why I am called the Devil."

The next thing Elias felt was heat. Heat at his back, heat at his neck—the overwhelming presence of the man he could not see, his body impossibly close, the scent of him sinking into Elias's skin like poison.

He wanted to move. He couldn't.

And then—warm breath, slow and deliberate, against the nape of his neck.

"You want to know what I look like?" The words were a whisper against his skin, an invitation and a threat all at once.

Elias barely had time to process the question before the grip at his throat tightened—just enough to make his vision spark, just enough to remind him exactly who he belonged to.

"Then beg."