CHAPTER SIX: SHADOWS AND FLAMES.

The air in Zuriel's hidden sanctuary was thick with silence—a silence that burned.

Devasena should have been thinking about the enemy that lurked beyond these walls, the one who had sent assassins to kill her. She should have been strategizing, planning her next move.

But all she could think about was him.

Zuriel.

He stood by the edge of the stone chamber, one hand resting lazily on the hilt of his blade, watching her. His presence filled every corner of the room, his dark aura pressing against her skin like a whispered threat. Or a promise.

She hated how aware she was of him. Of the way his raven-black hair framed his face, of the sharpness of his jaw, of those obsidian eyes that held a thousand secrets.

It had only been hours since he had saved her, yet something between them had shifted.

It was dangerous.

And it was intoxicating.

Devasena exhaled, shaking the thought away. "You still haven't answered me. Who sent those men after me?"

Zuriel's gaze remained unreadable. "Your false heir. The one who would rather see you dead than allow you to claim your throne."

Her fists clenched. So it was true. She had always known the false heir feared her return—but to try and kill her so soon?

Zuriel stepped closer, his voice impossibly calm. "But there's something else."

She glanced up sharply. "What do you mean?"

He studied her for a long moment before speaking. "Someone else knows you're alive. Someone powerful. And they're coming."

Her blood ran cold.

Zuriel wasn't the type to exaggerate. If he said a threat was coming, it meant danger was already at her doorstep.

She forced herself to remain steady. "Then we should prepare."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "We?"

Devasena frowned. "You saved my life, Zuriel. Are you saying you're not invested in keeping me alive?"

Something flickered in his eyes. A dark, unreadable emotion.

Then, before she could react, he was in front of her—too close, too fast.

The air between them grew electric, her breath catching in her throat.

He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A touch so small, yet it seared through her like fire.

"I don't think you understand, little storm," he murmured. "Your survival isn't just important to you anymore."

Her chest tightened. "Why?"

His fingers brushed lower, tracing the line of her jaw. "Because now, you belong to me."

A shiver ran down her spine.

Devasena should have pulled away. Should have slapped him, or at the very least, denied him.

But she didn't.

Instead, she met his gaze, defiant even as her pulse pounded. "I don't belong to anyone."

Zuriel's smirk deepened, but there was something else behind it now—something hungry.

"Lie to yourself if you wish," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But tell me, Devasena—why haven't you stepped away?"

She hated that he was right.

Because she could feel it—the undeniable pull between them. A force greater than logic, greater than fear.

And then, suddenly—

A crash.

The chamber trembled, shadows flickering violently across the walls. The air shifted, heavy with something unnatural.

Zuriel stiffened.

Devasena turned toward the entrance. Something was coming.

And whatever it was, it wasn't human.

Zuriel's expression darkened. "Stay close."

But she was already reaching for her blade. She wasn't just going to stand back.

Zuriel's eyes gleamed with something wicked. "That's the spirit, little storm."

And then—the fight began.

A deafening crash shook the chamber, sending dust and debris cascading from the ceiling. The shadows stretched unnaturally, slithering along the stone walls like living creatures.

Devasena tightened her grip on her blade, her pulse pounding. Whatever had come for them was already here.

Zuriel's expression remained unreadable, but his body tensed—like a predator ready to strike.

Then, the air rippled.

From the darkness beyond the entrance, figures emerged—twisted, unnatural things.

They weren't human.

They weren't even mercenaries.

Devasena inhaled sharply. Their glowing violet eyes pulsed with something dark, something ancient. Their skin was gray and cracked, their limbs longer than they should be. Shadowborn.

She had only ever heard of them in whispers—beings forged from the depths of the underworld, summoned through dark rituals.

And now, they were here for her.

"Zuriel," she breathed. "What are they?"

He didn't look at her. His gaze remained fixed on the creatures, his voice low and deadly. "Summoned friends. The false heir is desperate."

The realization struck her like a blade. The false heir hadn't just sent assassins after her—he had dared to summon creatures from the underworld itself.

Zuriel's domain.

Her gaze flicked to him, expecting to see rage. But instead, he was smiling.

A slow, dark smile—one that sent a shiver down her spine.

He was enjoying this.

"Stay behind me," he murmured.

She scoffed. "Not a chance."

Zuriel exhaled, almost amused. "I thought you'd say that."

And then—they attacked.

The first Shadowborn lunged, moving faster than anything human. Devasena barely had time to react before it was upon her.

She spun, blade flashing, and struck its chest—only for her sword to pass through like air.

Her breath hitched. What—?

The creature hissed, its clawed hand lashing out. She barely dodged in time, stumbling back.

Zuriel moved.

One moment he was beside her—the next, he was a blur of darkness.

His blade cleaved through the Shadowborn with impossible speed. This time, when his weapon struck, the creature screamed—its form burning away into black smoke.

Devasena's heart pounded.

Only Zuriel's blade could kill them.

"Stay out of my way," he ordered, his voice sharp.

She ignored him.

Instead, she closed her eyes, feeling the storm within her stir.

The room darkened. The temperature dropped. The wind answered her call.

Lightning cracked through the chamber, striking another Shadowborn. The creature howled, its form shuddering before it collapsed into mist.

Zuriel stilled.

When he turned to look at her, something new flickered in his eyes.

Something like fascination.

Devasena smirked, lifting her blade again. "I don't need saving, Zuriel."

His lips parted slightly, his gaze lingering on her. Then—he laughed.

A real laugh. Dark, deep, and utterly sinful.

"Perhaps not," he mused. "But that won't stop me."

The remaining creatures attacked at once.

Zuriel was ferocious. He moved like a shadow, cutting through them with deadly precision. His blade seemed to drink the darkness, his power surging with each strike.

Devasena fought beside him, lightning arcing around her as she slashed and dodged. Their movements were in sync, a deadly dance between light and dark.

And yet, despite the battle, she was still aware of him.

Of the way his body moved, the sheer power in every strike.

Of the way his eyes never left her.

The last creature fell, dissolving into mist. Silence.

Devasena exhaled heavily, her body still thrumming with power.

Zuriel wiped the blood from his blade, his expression unreadable once more.

Then, before she could react—he was in front of her.

Too close.

Her breath caught. "What—"

"You're trembling," he murmured.

Her fingers curled into fists. "I'm not."

A lie.

His hand lifted—not to grab her, not to restrain her, but to brush against her cheek.

A soft touch, so at odds with the violence of just moments ago.

"You surprise me, Devasena."

His voice was lower now, almost… intimate.

She swallowed hard. "Good."

Zuriel's fingers trailed down, grazing her jaw. Possessive. Claiming.

Then—he leaned in.

Close enough that she could feel the heat of him. Close enough that her pulse skipped.

His breath was warm against her skin. "Tell me… did you feel it?"

Her lips parted. "Feel what?"

His hand slid lower, resting lightly against the pulse in her throat. "The bond."

Her heart stopped.

No.

No, that was impossible.

A bond? Between them? That couldn't be—

She jerked back, her breath unsteady. "You're lying."

Zuriel didn't move. He simply watched her, his gaze dark and knowing.

And then—he smiled.

A slow, deliberate smile.

"Am I?"

She wanted to deny it. Wanted to hate him.

But deep down, in the part of her soul she refused to acknowledge—

She knew.

Something had changed between them.

And it terrified her.