Chapter 3

The command sounded weak, even to his own ears.

Melek ignored it, licking a line up to his nipple before blowing on it.

“Your mark is singing,” he murmured, hands sliding lower.

“It tells me how much you want this.”

Urik closed his eyes, ashamed of his own traitorous body—ashamed of how his hips tilted toward the demon’s touch.

“I didn’t... ngh... didn’t summon you for—”

“Didn’t you?” Melek gripped him through his clothes, pulling a hoarse gasp from Urik.

“Then why summon the realm of demons? Why let your magic drip so deliciously through the veil?”

Urik didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not while those expert hands were unfastening his belt, not while Melek’s mouth covered his in a kiss that tasted like sin and dark promises.

Their marks pulsed together now—red and black—like intertwined heartbeats.

Melek pushed him against the study table, Urik’s body arching over the polished wood as vials and scrolls clattered to the floor. The demon was on him, nude now—his infernal form fully revealed: narrow hips, perfectly cut muscles under crimson skin, and between his legs, something that made Urik swallow hard.

“You have two choices,” Melek whispered, aligning their bodies with torturous precision.

“Cast me out now... or admit you want this as much as I do.”

Urik felt the sharp tip of one of Melek’s horns brush his temple—a threat and a promise all at once. His own body was already betraying him, throbbing, burning between his legs. He looked into those golden eyes, at the demon who, in mere minutes, had set his blood on fire like no mortal ever had.

His resistance cracked.

“...Damn you.”

That was enough.

Melek grinned, triumphant, then closed the distance between them in a single fluid movement. His lips crashed into Urik’s in a ravenous kiss, tongues tangling like serpents in battle. The demon knew exactly how to touch him, how to bite his lower lip and pull just right, making Urik moan.

And then—full contact.

When Melek finally entered him, the marks on their wrists exploded in pain, pleasure, and raw power. Urik screamed, arching, his back lifting off the table as black lines spread from his wrist, weaving intricate patterns over his skin like a demonic web. Each strand pulsed in rhythm with Melek’s thrusts, every movement sending shocks of electricity through his veins.

Melek staggered too, his horns glowing with red runes that flickered like embers.

“Ah... yes,” he growled, gripping Urik’s hips with claws that left marks.

“Now you’re mine.”

No more words.

Only fire.

Melek moved inside him with a force that made the table quake, each thrust deeper than the last. Urik clung to the demon’s shoulders, nails digging into scarlet flesh, as heat coiled unbearably in his core.

“Me—Melek—” he moaned, his voice hoarse with pleasure.

The demon laughed, low and feral, then leaned down to bite his neck.

“Scream my name, sorcerer. Let the world know who you belong to.”

And Urik didn’t resist.

When climax hit, it was with the power of a forbidden spell—Urik saw stars and unknown realms, felt Melek’s claws digging into his hips, marking him inside and out. The demon roared his name like a profane prayer, his horns flaring in one final red blaze before they both fell into the abyss of pleasure.

For a moment, Urik swore he saw the very veil between worlds tremble.

In the muffled silence that followed, only one thing was clear:

This would change everything.

The scent of sulfur and sex still clung to the air when Urik came back to himself.

His body was a disaster—covered in scratches that formed winding patterns, as if Melek’s claws had written forbidden words into his skin. The mark on his wrist now stretched in black veins up to his elbow, pulsing softly like a second heart. And down below… well, every movement reminded him exactly what had happened.

Melek stood by the window, moonlight painting his scarlet torso in silver. He looked… satisfied.

“You’re even more delicious when you’re not trying to kill me,” he said, licking his lips like a cat who’d stolen the cream.

Urik tried to sit up—and failed. His legs trembled like a newborn deer.

“What… what did you do to me?” His voice came out hoarse and cracked.

Melek laughed, his horns casting twisted shadows across the wall.

“Something no spell of yours can undo,” he replied, stepping closer, tracing a claw along Urik’s inner thigh.

“The mark is complete now. Our essences… intertwined.”

Urik looked down at the black designs on his arm. They were breathing.

“This is a blood bond,” he realized, stomach twisting. The kind that only breaks when one of the two dies.

Melek tilted his head, feigning surprise.

“Oh? The great sorcerer finally understands?” His fingers pressed into the mark, making Urik arch with a gasp.

“You summoned me. Fucked me. Did you really think you’d walk away unscathed?”

Urik shoved him back with a burst of anger-fueled strength.

“I didn’t summon a parasite!”

The demon didn’t fall—he merely floated backward, grinning as if the outburst amused him.

“Parasite? I gave you more pleasure in one hour than you’ve had in your entire pathetic life,” his golden eyes narrowed.

“And you begged for more.”

Urik’s face burned. Because it was true.

Before he could respond, a sharp pain exploded in his chest. He dropped to his knees, coughing black blood.

Melek stopped smiling.

“Ah. It’s starting.”

“W-What…?” Urik gasped, watching his own veins darken beneath his skin.

The demon crossed his arms, suddenly serious.

“Did you think a mortal body could handle demonic energy without consequences?” A fierce grin.

“Welcome to your new diet, sorcerer. You either feed on pleasure… or the mark devours your flesh.”

Urik looked at his hands—now tipped with budding claws.

Gods above. He was becoming one of them.

And then—as if the universe wanted to make it worse—the tower door shattered into pieces.

Three hooded figures entered, robes embroidered with demon hunter runes.

The leader raised a silver dagger, pointing it at Melek.

“By shadow and flame, I banish you, creature of darkness!”

Melek sighed, as if it were a minor inconvenience.

“Urik, darling… shall I kill these idiots, or would you prefer the honor?”

Urik looked at his claws. At the mark. At the hunters now staring at him in horror.

He was screwed.