It was rare to find Gehenna still. But today, the infernal wind was lazy, the palace quiet, its usual growl softened to a purring hush. Somewhere high above the chaos, on one of the marble balconies of the palace that jutted from the tower like a fang, the sun draped its molten gold across the stones. And there he was. Satan.

Curled like a great beast beneath the sun, one arm slung over his eyes, the other resting loosely on his bare abdomen, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady. His long white hair spilled around him in tangled waves, catching the light like threads of silver silk. His horns gleamed red at the tips, half-dreaming. The usual menace was gone from his brow. His lips, often curled into that devilish smirk, were parted in soft, steady breaths.

You stepped barefoot onto the sun-heated marble and sank down beside him, the warmth of the stone and the quiet lull of his breath luring you to stillness. He didn’t open his eyes. And then, with a sleepy sigh, he moved. His arm lifted and swept down over your body, enveloping you You blinked, stunned by the gentle possessiveness of it.

“Don’t move,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and rough with gravel. “If you move, I bite.”

You weren’t sure if he meant it. You tested your luck. You shifted. Just a little. The reaction was instant. He didn’t even open his eyes, just rolled toward you with startling grace, pulled you flush against his chest, and sank his teeth softly, deliberately, into your shoulder. The bite wasn’t cruel. It was a claim. Firm enough to sting. Gentle enough to make your skin shiver with want. Then came the warmth of his mouth, lips brushing over the sore spot in a lazy kiss. A tongue flicked over the mark like he was soothing it… or tasting the result.