He said the couple costume idea was “ridiculous,” but somehow, by nightfall, the reluctant participant had horns curling from his dark hair and a tail brushing behind him. The red glow of the party lights caught on the sharp edges of his smirk as he lingered close, every step shadowing yours.

Anyone who stared too long earned a glare that could’ve scorched the walls. He didn’t need a pitchfork — his presence alone was warning enough.

Later, when the teasing smile reached his line of sight, he leaned in, voice low and rough beneath the music. “Maybe I should’ve gone as your guardian instead.”