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I woke up to heat.
Not the kind that clung to your skin after too many blankets or a broken fan. No—this was deeper. Heavier. The kind of warmth that pulsed, like breath on my neck, like someone had just been close.
My eyes snapped open.
Stone ceiling. Crimson silk drapes. A dim room smelling faintly of roses and… something more primal.
I wasn't home. I wasn't anywhere I remembered.
And I wasn't alone.
"Finally," came a voice—husky, low, familiar in a way that made my chest tighten. "You sleep like a corpse, you know that?"
I turned my head.
She sat casually beside me on the velvet-sheeted bed, one leg crossed over the other, horns curving up from her black hair like a crown of sin. Her golden eyes gleamed in the candlelight. A black choker hugged her throat. Leather straps traced her curves like armor designed to distract more than protect.
Lyria.
My stepsister.
No—my demon stepsister.
She tilted her head, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her lips. "Still don't remember anything, do you?"
I swallowed hard. My voice barely worked. "Where… am I?"
Her smile widened, sharp enough to cut.
"Welcome back, brother."
She reached out and brushed her fingers across my chest—bare, I now realized. Her touch was cold and electric all at once, like she'd reached under my skin and touched something ancient. I shuddered.
"You've been gone a long time," she murmured. "Too long. The world changed while you were sleeping."
I tried to sit up, but my body felt… strange. Not weak, but charged. Every breath felt heavier. Every sound sharper. My skin was alive, hyper-aware of the fabric brushing against it.
"What happened to me?" I asked.
Her eyes darkened with something like possession. "You were chosen. Marked by something older than even I can name. When the Purge came, when all the men disappeared, your soul went dormant. It hid itself. Until now."
"The Purge…?"
She leaned in. Her breath ghosted over my lips. "All men. Gone. Erased in one night. No explanation. No mercy. Only women were left behind. Raging, desperate… incomplete."
I blinked. It didn't make sense. None of it did. But somehow… I felt it. Like part of me already knew.
"You're the only one left, Jin," she whispered, pressing her hand flat against my chest. "The last man in a world that forgot what it meant to have one."
My heart thundered.
I looked into her eyes and saw the truth: hunger. Control. Need.
"You brought me back," I said. "Why?"
She didn't answer right away. Her fingers slid lower, stopping just at my ribs. Her gaze never left mine.
"Because this world needs you. Even if it doesn't deserve you."
Her voice dropped. "And because I'm never letting you go again."
Something deep inside me stirred at her words—dark and unfamiliar. A pulse that wasn't mine alone. The heat returned, stronger now, crawling up my spine like liquid fire.
"Lyria… this isn't right," I said, but even I wasn't convinced.
She laughed softly, leaning back. "Right? In Velastra, there is no 'right.' Only survival. Only craving."
I looked around for the first time.
The room was part palace, part lair. Black stone walls lined with red-glowing runes. A carved mirror. Velvet ropes. A window half-shuttered, revealing dusky pink skies and spires in the distance. And beyond that? I didn't know. But I could feel them. Eyes.
Lyria followed my gaze. "We're in the heart of the city. And yes… they know you're awake."
My chest tightened. "Who?"
She stood. Her tail curled behind her as she walked to the window and parted the curtain.
"The women of Velastra," she said. "They've waited years for a man to return. Most don't even remember what you are. But their bodies do. Their instincts do. And now… they smell you."
She turned back to me, eyes glowing. "You can't leave this place without starting a war. They'll devour you."
"Then why bring me here?" I asked.
Her smile was pure sin. "Because you're not leaving. You belong to me."
Before I could respond, a loud knock echoed from the front door—three slow pounds that made the walls shudder.
Lyria froze.
Her smile vanished.
"...They're here," she muttered.
I stood shakily, instincts screaming. "Who?"
Another knock. Louder. Followed by a sultry voice that dripped through the door like wine.
"Open the door, demon. I know he's awake."
Lyria cursed under her breath. "Damn her. That fallen harpy couldn't wait a single day."
I stumbled closer. "Who is that?"
She glared toward the door, her voice a low growl. "Aelira. Fallen angel. Self-proclaimed envoy of the Celestial Spires. And a lying, winged bitch who thinks claiming you will bring back her kind."
I blinked. "So... I'm a prize now?"
She stalked toward me and gripped my jaw, not hard—possessively.
"You're more than a prize, Jin. You're power. Fertility. Magic. The last piece of the puzzle. And every woman in this world wants to own you."
Another knock. Softer this time. Almost teasing.
"I can smell him, Lyria," Aelira purred. "I'll wait outside. But not for long."
Silence.
Lyria let go of me, her tail flicking with agitation. Her voice was quieter now. Tense.
"This is only the beginning, Jin. There are others. Beastkin. Vampiresses. Even the high elves have begun to stir. Word of your return won't stay quiet for long."
I stepped back, my skin still tingling from her touch. "...Then what do we do?"
She looked me over slowly—lingering far too long. "We buy time. I keep them out as long as I can."
"And me?"
Lyria leaned in close again, pressing her body to mine as she whispered, "You stay here. You rest. And when the cravings hit…" Her lips brushed my ear.
"…you'll come to me."
She pulled away, her golden eyes aflame.
"And when you do… brother or not… I won't stop you."
Then she was gone, storming toward the door to face the angel waiting outside.
And I was left in silence.
Burning.
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