2. Chapter

I stood over the seemingly lifeless body, frozen between instinct and logic. Every shred of survival instinct screamed run and hide, but something inside me refused to just leave him there. As I stared down at him, all I could see was opportunity — a dangerous, stupid, and possibly suicidal opportunity, but a chance nonetheless. A chance to survive. To get answers. To finally stop running.

Of course, it was also an enormous risk — the kind that could end with my throat torn out in one motion. But in times like these, death didn’t seem quite as terrifying as it used to. Sometimes it even felt like the easier option.

Cautiously, I gripped his arms and rolled him onto his back. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud, but he didn’t move. Still out cold. I darted around the store, searching for something — anything — to restrain him with. Finally, I found a chain and a padlock. Not ideal, but it would have to do. I bound his wrists and ankles tightly, awkwardly, making sure every link of metal bit into his skin. From the outside, he looked completely helpless. And yet… I couldn’t shake the feeling that no chain on earth could really hold him. Even unconscious, he radiated raw power.

And I still couldn’t believe that one solid blow to the head had actually knocked him out.

I grabbed him by the legs and began dragging him through the deserted streets toward my parents’ house. His body, covered by my tattered coat, must have looked like a corpse being hauled away. I made sure his wings stayed hidden, though I knew the feathers were getting ruined as they scraped against the pavement. I didn’t care. Not even a flicker of guilt touched me. My prisoner was heavy, but adrenaline kept me moving.

When I reached the porch steps, his head bumped hard against each one. By the time I kicked open the front door—weakly, but enough to get it open—I was gasping for breath. At least I hadn’t killed him back at the store. The stone columns in our old living room looked sturdy enough, so I dragged him there and started securing him.

First, I unfastened his legs—just long enough to wrap the chain around one of the columns, then snapped the padlock shut. Click.

Then came his arms. I didn’t dare release them, so I used the remaining chain to fasten them down, crisscrossing over his chest and waist.

I crouched beside his motionless form, threading the chain beneath his arm, trying to reach the other side. Couldn’t quite manage. I shuffled closer, bracing my knee against his leg for leverage. In the next instant, I found myself straddling him, sitting astride his stomach as I bent down to fasten the lock near his belt line. My fingers were trembling from exhaustion — and then, suddenly, a deep, raspy voice rumbled beneath me:

“Honestly, as much as it wounds my pride that I let myself get caught like this… waking up this way isn’t half bad.”

My brain froze.

For a split second, I took in the scene from the outside: me, sitting on top of him in a full straddle, my hand poised dangerously close to his groin, his eyes open and fixed on me. He had the perfect view of everything — my torn shirt, my flushed face, the chain in my hand.

I couldn’t let him see that I was flustered. Not for a second.

So instead, I exhaled slowly, straightened my back, and smoothed out the fabric of his shirt with deliberate calm.

“Can’t blame you,” I murmured. “Waking up next to a woman like me — who wouldn’t enjoy that? In fact… I bet you find this situation kind of exciting, don’t you? You, all strength and muscle, tied up and helpless, while a woman does whatever she pleases with you — touches you… maybe even licks you.”

At the last word, I leaned in close, letting my breath brush against his neck as I traced a slow line with my fingers along his skin.

Confidence had never been my weakness. I’d always known men found me attractive, and more importantly, I’d learned to own that power. Even after the world burned, even without nail polish or hair dye, I still knew what I was — a woman who could make a demon’s pulse quicken, if she wanted to.

“I don’t mind a bit of closeness, baby,” the demon replied, his tone slow and deliberate, threaded with dangerous amusement. “But I should warn you… I’m the dominant one. Always. So how about you just unlock these chains and—ah…”

He didn’t finish.

Because at that exact moment, I pressed the butterfly knife against the hard line of his groin and whispered in his ear:

“Funny. I distinctly remember not enjoying your idea of closeness back at the store… hell’s angel. Ring a bell?”