Chapter 5
Ursula advanced on Yuta with abusive intent, but Uncle Darius caught her arm.
"Wait, dear," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. "If we send him away, where will he go? He's still my brother's son."
"I don't care!" Ursula jerked free from his grasp. "I don't care if he dies in a ditch somewhere! This… this pathetic thing has brought nothing but misery to our family!"
Yuta dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Uncle, please, I'm begging you. I didn't do anything wrong. I would never hurt Riko, or any of you. You used to love me when my mother was alive—you called me your little sunshine. What happened to that? What did I do to make you hate me so much?"
For a moment, Uncle Darius's face softened. Yuta could see the internal struggle playing out in his weathered features—duty to his wife and daughter warring against the memory of his beloved brother and sister-in-law.
"It's alright, Yuta," he said finally, his voice heavy with resignation. "You're not leaving. You're family, and family doesn't abandon family."
"What?" Ursula stared at her husband in disbelief. "What do you mean he's not leaving?"
"I mean exactly that. We can punish him in other ways, but he stays in this house." Uncle Darius turned and walked away, his shoulders bowed under the weight of the decision.
"Father, you can't be serious!" Riko cried, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch. "How can you let this… this home-wrecker stay here after what he's done to me?"
"Get out of my sight," she snarled at Yuta, her beautiful face ugly with hatred. "And take your precious defender with you! I don't want to look at either of you!" She glared at her brother.
As Yuta and Eren retreated, Yuta felt a mixture of relief and dread. He still had a roof over his head, but he knew this was far from over. Ursula's eyes had held a calculating gleam that promised future suffering.
Behind them, mother and daughter whispered together in the parlor.
"Don't worry, my darling," Ursula murmured, stroking Riko's hair. "I have a plan. I know exactly where we can send our little problem."
"What do you mean, Mother?"
Ursula's smile was sharp as a blade. "How would you feel about Yuta disappearing into the slave markets? Permanently?"
Riko's answering smile was equally vicious. "I think that sounds perfect."
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Lord Elrien materialized in his private chambers with the last dregs of his demon power, the teleportation spell leaving him drained and disoriented. The transformation back to human form had been agonizing, made worse by the poison still coursing through his veins and the burning sensation left by those damned herbs.
But it wasn't the physical pain that tormented him now.
It was that voice.
Soft, gentle, full of genuine concern for a creature that could have killed him without effort. The human—the boy—had touched him with such tenderness, and had spoken to him as if he were something precious rather than monstrous.
Easy. I'm not going to hurt you.
The memory sent an unfamiliar shiver through Elrien's body. When was the last time anyone had spoken to him with kindness? When was the last time someone had touched him without fear or calculation?
He paced his chambers like a caged beast, his mind churning with questions he couldn't answer. Why had the curse activated outside of the full moon? Why had that human's touch affected him so profoundly? And why couldn't he stop hearing that voice echoing in his mind?
Perhaps his harem would provide the distraction he needed.
Elrien made his way to the opulent chambers where his collection of lovers waited. The room was a study in decadent luxury—silk cushions scattered across marble floors, golden censers burning exotic incense, and beautiful bodies draped across divans like living art.
His favorite pair approached immediately—twin demons with alabaster skin and matching eyes like molten gold. Lyrian and Lyria, brother and sister, providing shared pleasure. The male twin moved with feline grace, his lean form a perfect complement to his sister's voluptuous curves.
"My lord," Lyrian purred, pressing close against Elrien's side. "You look troubled tonight."
"Let us ease your burdens," Lyria added, her fingers trailing down his chest with practiced skill.
Elrien allowed them to draw him toward the bed, their hands working to remove his clothes with the efficiency of long practice. They knew exactly how to touch him, exactly how to drive away thoughts and worries with pure physical sensation.
But tonight, their skilled ministrations felt hollow.
As Lyrian's mouth worked at his throat and Lyria's hands roamed lower, all Elrien could think about was gentle fingers tending to wounds and a voice full of compassion. The contrast was stark and unsettling—where his demons touched him with hunger and desire, the human had touched him with care.
"Stop," Elrien said suddenly, pushing them away.
The twins looked up at him in confusion. "My lord?" Lyria ventured. "Have we displeased you?"
"You're distracted," Lyrian observed, his golden eyes sharp with intelligence. "What troubles you so?"
The question sparked a flare of rage in Elrien's chest. How dare this creature—his creature—question him? How dare any of them presume to understand what he was feeling?
"Nothing troubles me," he snarled, dark power crackling around him like lightning. "Nothing except your pathetic attempts at pleasure."
Lyrian recoiled as if slapped. "My lord, please, I only meant—"
"You meant nothing!" Elrien roared, his control finally snapping. "You are nothing!"
He lashed out with raw demon power, sending Lyrian flying across the room to crash against a marble pillar. The sickening crack of bone filled the air, followed by Lyria's scream of terror.
Elrien stood over the broken form of his former favorite, feeling nothing but cold satisfaction. This was who he was—a creature of darkness and cruelty, not some lovesick fool mooning over a human's gentle touch.
"Clean this up," he commanded the other demons, who cowered against the walls. "And remember—question me again at your peril."
He strode from the chamber without looking back, leaving behind Lyria's sobs and the scent of blood. But even as he walked away, that damned voice continued to echo in his mind, soft and kind and utterly impossible to forget.
What was wrong with him? And why couldn't he stop thinking about the human who had shown him such unexpected mercy?