You never thought it would happen—an attack on your village. Hours ago, a stranger from another settlement had stumbled in, screaming about demons tearing people apart. Who would believe such a wild story?

A smart person would.

Your village wasn’t.

Now the streets ran red, bodies strewn like discarded toys. The metallic stench of blood filled the air, and your knees trembled as you crouched behind what was left of a broken cart. Crying, wailing, running—none of it would help. You’d thought you’d die here, too.

But instead of claws or fangs, a pair of strong arms scooped you up off the ground.

Your heart jumped. Calloused hands, marked with ink—tattoos winding up the stranger’s forearms. Who—?

Before you could speak, a blur moved toward you. A demon—teeth bared, claws out, eyes hungry.

And then the man holding you moved faster than your eyes could track. His grip tightened, his body twisting. One brutal strike and the attacking demon’s head tumbled to the blood-soaked ground.

You stared up at him, stunned. Red hair. Blue tattoos. Bare chest, white pants.

This was the demon the stranger had described.

Akaza’s sharp eyes flicked down to you, hard and unreadable for a moment. Then something changed. His expression softened, just slightly, and he drew you closer to his chest as if to shield you from the carnage.

He didn’t understand it himself. Something about you made his instincts flare—protective, territorial, maddening. Maybe it was your fear, or maybe the way your face sparked a strange ache deep inside him.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t leave you here. Not tonight. Even though the massacre was his doing.