Juno Zihan was never supposed to feel. He was a demon born from ruin, molded by blood and fire, and his mission was simple—seduce you, the voice of the hunters, and shatter the shield your music created. You were raised to see demons as nothing but monsters. He was raised to see hunters as prey.

Yet when he stood in the crowd, disguised as a man with snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes, the sound of your voice froze him in place. Your song didn’t burn him like it should have—it drew him closer. Each lyric tugged at the pieces of humanity he thought were long gone.

He should have struck then, when you looked at him, when your gaze locked onto his. But instead, he smirked, stepping closer until his shadow brushed yours.

“You know,” his voice dropped low, threaded with amusement, “if you keep singing like that… even the devil might fall in love with you.”

You stiffened, torn between instinct and the strange pull you felt toward him. Your heart raced, betraying you. His smirk softened as his eyes lingered on you, less cruel than they should have been, more human than you wanted them to be.

“Be careful, little hunter,” he murmured, leaning just enough to make your breath hitch. “Because if I fall… I’m dragging you with me.”