THE DEVIL I TAMED

The palace at Kareth was carved from white stone and crowned with obsidian turrets, shining faintly under the dying dusk. They were received with full fanfare—trumpets echoing through the mountains, banners raised in gold and violet. Nate dismounted with the grace of a king who had just survived death, his spine rigid, his soul still humming with Jake's breath inside him.

Guards bowed. Courtiers whispered.

The King of Kareth greeted Nate with open arms and a too-perfect smile.

> "Velisya's new blood," he said. "And already they speak of your spine. I do hope it wasn't the journey that sharpened it."

Nate bowed with practiced poise. "Only the road, Your Majesty. And perhaps the company."

Jake chuckled inside his mind.

> "Was that a compliment? I'm blushing. Can demons blush? We should test it—preferably naked."

"Stop," Nate muttered under his breath.

> "Say it slower."

Nate gritted his teeth. The King didn't seem to notice.

---

Later, after politics had been teased over roasted pheasant and sparkling fruit wine, the Kareth King gestured casually toward the velvet drawing room.

"Stay the night," he said, swirling his drink. "I insist. It's a long ride back, and I imagine even young bones creak under weight these days."

Nate inclined his head. "Of course."

The king poured a second glass.

"You've met the court, yes? But not my daughter." He smiled thinly. "She's not present tonight—visiting our summer estate—but she's… quite curious about Velisya's new crown."

Nate froze for the faintest second.

Inside him, Jake's presence burned like coal.

> "So that's what this is."

Nate's voice stayed smooth. "I've no time for curious girls."

"Shame," the king said with a sigh. "She's terribly persuasive."

> "Oh I bet she is," Jake muttered.

Nate finished his drink. "Your Majesty, the road and the crown are both heavier than I imagined. If you'll excuse me, I'll retire early."

The king waved a hand, already smiling like he'd expected as much. "Rest well, boy king."

---

Nate's chambers were large, draped in violet silks and shadowed by candlelight. He shut the door behind him and exhaled.

> "Release me," Jake said. "I swear, I'll claw that bastard's tongue out if he mentions daughters again."

"I need you calm."

> "I am calm. But you heard it, didn't you? The subtle shuffle of dynasties in that wine-soaked invitation."

"I heard it," Nate murmured. "Which is why I need you out. I need peace."

> "You're asking me to sleep on the couch like a dog."

Nate smirked. "Yes. A dangerous one. Try not to burn the drapes."

The air shivered. And then Jake stood beside him—fully materialized, hair damp from spiritual transfer, shirt torn from the earlier fight. His skin glowed faintly from where Nate's energy had stitched his wounds.

"I'm whole again," Jake murmured, stretching. "Thanks to you. What a romantic host you are."

Nate pointed to the couch. "You get the cushions. I get the peace."

Jake looked dramatically offended. "No spooning? No pillow talk? Am I not your favorite demon anymore?"

"You never were."

Jake laughed, low and soft, then collapsed onto the couch in a tangle of limbs.

Nate headed toward the shower.

Steam curled around his collarbone as he undressed, letting the heat melt the ache of the fight, the tension of diplomacy, the voice still echoing in his head.

> "You could do worse than marrying royalty," Jake whispered through the bond.

Nate rolled his eyes under the falling water. "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

> "Didn't say I'd listen."

---

By the time Nate returned to the bedroom, towel around his shoulders, Jake was still sprawled on the couch—but now facing the ceiling, silent, unusually still.

"You're not snoring. That's suspicious."

"Demons don't snore," Jake replied dryly. "We hum curses in our sleep."

Nate turned off the lantern, sliding under the covers. "Good. I hope they're aimed at the king."

A pause.

Then Jake's voice—quieter.

"…Why did I protect you?"

Nate blinked into the dark.

"I don't know."

Jake stared at the ceiling.

> He could've let the wolves tear Nate apart. Let fate finish what old royalty started. But he hadn't. His body had moved before his thoughts. He'd thrown himself between fang and flame without hesitation.

And now here he was. On a couch. In a royal suite. Wondering why the sound of Nate's voice—sarcastic, tired, full of scorn—made him feel more… seen than centuries of battles ever had.

> Maybe it was just teasing, Jake told himself.

Maybe he was just playing a long game.

Maybe.

But he didn't believe it.

Not anymore.

Not with the way his chest felt tight when Nate turned away from him.

Not with the way he had chosen pain over the taste of revenge.

> "I'm not getting soft," Jake muttered to the ceiling.

"I'm not falling. I'm just… entertained."

But sleep pulled at his eyelids like a lullaby, and the scent of Nate's soul—calm, warm, defiant—wrapped around him like a chain he wasn't sure he hated anymore.

---