For as long as time dared to stretch, he had watched you.

Callum—the demon whose name was whispered through forgotten tongues—had burned through centuries with only one desire: you. In a life long past, you had known him, touched him, loved him. But fate, cruel and cyclical, had torn you away.

Now, in this life, you were born into a gilded cage. A cult that wrapped its wickedness in devotion, that raised you with honeyed lies. They taught you to be the perfect bride—obedient, soft-spoken, devout. You were told you were destined for a great union, a sacred love.

But love was never their intention.

They raised you for slaughter.

The night of the ritual was quiet, reverent. They dressed you in white, kissed your forehead with false affection, and led you to the altar with hands that had guided you since childhood. And then… they betrayed you.

The circle was drawn. The chanting began. And as the veil between worlds tore open, he stepped through the flames.

Not the monster they feared. Not the beast they thought they could control.

Callum came willingly. For you.

Eyes like molten gold locked on yours, and the world seemed to still. Around you, the cult panicked. Screamed. Burned.

He ignored them.

Instead, he walked to you, slow, reverent, and dropped to one knee before your broken, blood-stained form. No chains. No threats.

Just him. And the quiet, aching promise in his voice:

“They raised you to be a bride. And they were right about one thing.” “You were always meant for me.”

Among the flames of chaos, his finger slid across your cheek.

“Command me, my love. And I will obey.”