Aleric Lucien Evander Soleil had been kidnapped for exactly three hours and forty-two minutes before the walls of the underworld cracked like eggshells.
They hadn't even finished their dramatic threats yet. One of the men in red silk had just started describing what they were going to do to "the prince with the golden eyes" when it happened. Screams echoed from the outer gates. Flames licked the corners of the compound. The ceiling trembled.
Now, everything was fire.
And Kael Valen Raventhal—no, Kaelitharion Noctis Valerius Raventhal, his legally useless husband and supposedly weaponless noble heir—was standing amidst the rubble like this was a garden stroll.
"Oh," Kael said, tilting his head as he stepped over a body missing most of its upper half. "There you are, Riri."
Aleric blinked.
He wasn't sure what disturbed him more: the fact that the underworld syndicate's southern base was collapsing in a spiral of blood and flame—or that Kael had the audacity to smile like they were on a date.
Kael's long black hair was windswept, streaked with soot and blood, falling past his jaw like dark silk. His red-orange eyes gleamed in the chaos, molten and sharp. His coat was torn, and something on his shoulder was either brain matter or meat. Possibly both.
Behind him, someone screamed for mercy. A crunch silenced it.
Kael didn't even turn.
Aleric stared. His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Kael walked closer, dragging a long, unnatural blade behind him—too long, too fluid, like a shadow stretched into steel. Athearies. A weapon that shouldn't exist. A name Aleric only knew from myth and nightmares.
Kael's voice remained soft. Too soft.
"I got worried. You weren't home."
Home. As if he didn't just tear through one of the most feared assassin networks in the empire.
"You... you killed them all," Aleric said slowly.
Kael stopped in front of him and blinked. "They took you."
"Yes," Aleric said, glancing around at the burning compound. "They kidnapped me. Not... an entire city block."
"I know," Kael said warmly. "So I stopped them."
He looked pleased with himself. Innocent. Like he expected praise. Like he hadn't just painted the walls with human organs. Aleric opened his mouth again.
Kael beat him to it.
"I brought something." He reached into the front of his cloak and pulled out a crushed pink flower, gently placing it in Aleric's hand. "I picked it on the way."
Aleric stared at it. The petals were singed. There was definitely blood on them.
Behind Kael, the ground shook. Another building collapsed into a shrieking inferno. A few assassins tried to flee. Kael casually raised one hand.
The shadows curled like living serpents. The screaming stopped.
Aleric took a step back.
Kael noticed—and frowned. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Aleric said flatly. "Just emotionally."
Kael smiled again. "I'm glad. You're safe now."
"Safe," Aleric echoed, trying not to look at the smoldering pile of what might have once been a war priest.
"I made it quick," Kael added cheerfully, as if it were considerate. "They didn't even get to touch you, did they?"
Aleric didn't answer.
Because he remembered—clearly—one of the guards yanking his arm. He remembered the mocking grip. The spit. The words.
And he remembered Kael appearing behind the man like a shadow, and slicing off his hands before Aleric even realized what was happening.
That was ten minutes ago. Kael hadn't stopped since.
He hadn't shouted. Hadn't cursed. Hadn't even run. Just walked forward with terrifying calm, like a storm wrapped in velvet. Aleric had watched him kill fifty men without blinking.
Now he was brushing soot from Aleric's cheek like they were having tea.
Aleric finally found his voice.
"Are you insane?"
Kael blinked again. "No. Just devoted."
There was a long pause.
Then Kael leaned down, kissed Aleric's knuckles, and said with unbearable sincerity:
"You're too important to lose again."
Again.
The word struck harder than the blood. Harder than the fire. Aleric stared at him, throat tight. Kael just smiled, gaze soft, as if this moment was beautiful and not bathed in corpses.
Someone coughed behind them. A survivor. A fool.
Kael turned his head slightly. The smile didn't vanish. It sharpened.
"Excuse me," he said gently.
A second later, the only sound was a final scream—and the quiet hiss of fire chewing through bone.
Kael returned to Aleric's side like a loyal hound. A beautiful, bloody, world-ending hound. He tilted his head.
"Should we go home?" he asked. "I'll make you tea."
Aleric stared down at the flower in his hand. It was crushed. Burnt. A little warm.
He looked up at his husband.
His divine, obsessive, completely unhinged husband.
And whispered, with the last ounce of disbelief he had left:
"You're not human, are you."
Kael's eyes glowed faintly. "Does it matter?"