Chapter 5
FIVE
HANNAH
I flee.
I don’t give a damn if it doesn’t make logical sense. Every survival instinct I possess is screaming run so that’s exactly what I’m doing.
There’s pure exhilaration mixed with terror in my legs’ newfound strength. They shouldn’t work this well; they’re the same legs I woke up with yesterday, at least from the outside.
But somehow there’s actual muscle underneath now—
Or maybe it’s just raw adrenaline at seeing a genuine monster up close. Like those stories about mothers lifting cars off their children through sheer desperation. Yeah, exactly like that.
Because when sunlight broke over the horizon and I saw his face clearly—
His massive size already told me he wasn’t natural, but seeing him in full daylight, realizing that while I’d been praying to heaven for help...
I’d accidentally summoned something straight from the depths of hell.
And when you stare a demon in the face?
Well, you run like your life depends on it.
You sprint as fast as your legs will carry you, regardless of whether those legs have ever worked properly before.
When he explodes through the ice like some kind of mythical torpedo, I’m already in full flight.
He’s definitely going to kill me. Classic predator behavior—take your prey to a secondary location. How did I forget every piece of stranger-danger advice I’ve ever received?
As a disabled woman, I’ve taken every self-defense class available. When the first instructor said a person’s best chance is always to run, I remember thinking, Well, I’m screwed.
But here I am. Actually running. Actually fast.
The problem is, I’m not dealing with any ordinary predator.
And I am absolutely being hunted. I confirm this when I glance back and let out a terrified shriek. The bird-man-lion creature is airborne again, water cascading off his enormous wings with each powerful beat.
His head swivels as if he’s searching for something.
Maybe he has poor eyesight with those strange feline pupils. Maybe he’s like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park and can only track movement. Not that this stops me from sprinting like my survival depends on it—because I’m pretty sure it does.
Fresh adrenaline floods my system as I race toward a rocky outcrop ahead—massive granite boulders that jut from the snow like the spine of some buried giant.
The stone is dark gray, almost black, worn smooth in places by countless storms. Between the rocks, I can see shadowy gaps that might offer shelter, or at least concealment.
If he really is like those movie dinosaurs, maybe I can hide among these ancient stones and he won’t—
I scream as clawed hands seize me under my arms, lifting me clean off the ground.
My legs bicycle uselessly in empty air as the pristine snow field disappears beneath me—endless white broken only by my own frantic footprints carving a desperate path toward those distant rocks.
I’m swept into the sky above a landscape so vast and untouched it looks like the world’s beginning.
“Let go of me!” I shriek. “Put me down!”
I look around frantically as we soar through crystalline air.
Unlike our takeoff from Alaska, there’s nothing below us now—no divided landscape, no signs of civilization.
Just an ocean of white that stretches to every horizon, broken only by the dark slash of pine forests and the occasional rocky outcrop thrusting through the snow like ancient monuments.
No lights from human settlements anywhere, not even the thin line of a distant road.
It’s like flying over the surface of an alien planet.
The snowy peaks of the mountains surrounding us have peaks so high that they disappear into the clouds. And everywhere is that silence that only comes from true wilderness. The kind of quiet that makes you understand how small you really are.
“Are you certain you want that?” he rumbles.
My entire body shakes from the freezing wind... and something about his voice that makes my bones vibrate. This is all wrong. Completely unnatural.
“Let me go!” I scream again.
And then—oh Jesus—he actually does.
He releases me, and where moments before there was controlled flight, now I’m in absolute freefall.
I can’t even draw breath to scream as the white, packed snow rushes up to meet me at terrifying speed—
I flail helplessly, as if my small arms could possibly cushion the impact I’m seconds away from—
Then I’m caught again. Roughly, around my waist, sharp claws slice through my shirt as I’m snatched from above.
My descent stops with jarring abruptness, and we’re climbing again.
Unable to fight anymore, I go completely limp, my adrenaline finally depleted.
My body spins in the turbulence from his massive wings beating around us—whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—the sound surrounding us completely.
I brace for a brutal landing, if not to be dropped again entirely.
Instead, when those clawed hands finally release me—
I scream, but don’t hit anything hard. Not even frozen ground.
No, I land on something... impossibly soft?
I look down, then scramble to a sitting position, tangling myself in what appear to be luxurious sheets—actual silk, not cotton—and furs so plush they must have come from arctic foxes or something equally exotic.
The bed beneath me is enormous, easily twice the size of any king bed I’ve ever seen, and built proportionally for someone much, much larger than any human.
A bed?
He’s brought me to what might be the most comfortable bed in existence.
I immediately retreat to the wall, suddenly remembering exactly what I promised in exchange for healing. To be his consort. Oh shit.
I hold up both hands as the creature lands on... are those hooves?
He takes a step toward me, and full sunlight streams through the window. I look around frantically, trying to orient myself.
The walls are ancient stone—massive blocks fitted together with medieval precision, like being inside a real fairy tale castle.
Tapestries hang in faded splendor, their once-rich colors now muted with age, depicting scenes I can’t quite make out in my panic.
The window is enormous, easily eight feet tall, with a stone arch that frames the vista like a painting.
Through it, I can see the endless snow stretching to distant mountain peaks that scrape the sky, and that frozen lake below gleaming like a mirror in the morning sun.
He just flew us straight through this opening like it was nothing.
The room itself is... actually breathtaking.
The ceiling soars at least twenty feet high, supported by carved stone beams that look like they could hold up the world.
A massive fireplace dominates one wall, cold now but built for roaring fires that could warm this entire space.
The bed I’m sitting on is clearly built for someone much larger than any human—the frame looks hand-carved from dark wood, probably oak, and draped with furs that feel impossibly soft against my skin.
I scan the view desperately through that magnificent window, but there’s only more pristine wilderness. Rolling white hills dotted with dark evergreens, more of the lake stretching beyond what I can see, more isolation than I’ve ever imagined possible.
Where the hell am I? This isn’t just remote—this is like being dropped into another world entirely.
I look back at my captor.
He advances another step toward the bed, and I can see him more clearly now in the brilliant morning light streaming through that cathedral-sized window.
His enormous black wings span the room’s entire width, and this is not a small room.
The feathers are glossy, almost iridescent, catching the light like oil on water.
While his face has a distinctly human bone structure, his nose remains proudly feline, and that split lip gives him a perpetually wild expression.
His eyes are the most unsettling feature: cat-like pupils that seem to see straight through me.
Instead of human skin, he’s covered in short, dense fur that looks incredibly soft—like touching a lion’s pelt.
Now that he’s clean, I can see his coloring clearly: golden fur with darker strands threaded through it and a magnificent mane that frames his face in waves of burnished bronze.
But those curved horns extending from his temples are intimidating as hell—inky black and polished to a shine, looking sharp enough to gore someone.
The short fur covers his powerfully built chest—and I mean powerfully built, like he could bench press a car—but stops when it reaches his—
I drop my gaze, and my eyes go wide. He’s completely, utterly naked.
Oh God. He’s definitely male down there. Very impressively so. And apparently... very excited, if the substantial length between his muscular thighs is any indication. Everything about him is built on a scale that makes me feel like a doll in comparison.
I press myself further against the wall, even though there’s nowhere left to retreat. I curl into the corner and keep my hands raised.
“Whoa, slow down there, big guy! Let’s just take a second here!”
“Slow down?” he growls. “I did not see my consort slowing down when she ran from me. You ran, I gave chase.”
I laugh nervously, hands still up like they could possibly protect me. “That was just a misunderstanding. When you flew off like that, I—”
Despite all that fur, I can somehow tell he’s raising a skeptical eyebrow at me. “You ran in the opposite direction, forgetting your promise the moment you received what you wanted?”
I shake my head quickly. No, definitely not that. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually healed me.”
“Now you know. Your legs work perfectly. You saw how fast you ran.”
My mouth opens to give him a smart comeback. To explain the whole adrenaline thing. But then... I actually stop and consider it.
The way I was moving out there... that was more than running. That was sprinting. I’ve never been able to do that. Not even as a child. It was one of the first signs that something was wrong. I couldn’t run around like other kids. I just stumbled and fell constantly.
I certainly never sprinted fast enough to feel wind whipping through my hair. Not once in my entire life.
“But I—” I start, and that furry eyebrow climbs even higher.
What can I say? I asked for the impossible and didn’t think through the consequences, even when I agreed to... gulp... forever.
Oh shit, I think I’m going to faint.
I sway back slightly.
“Yes,” the demon says approvingly. “Lie down for your first time as my consort. Excellent idea.”
I scramble against the stone wall. “Hold on! Not so fast.”
“Why delay?” He reaches toward me. “I healed you instantly. We made an agreement, did we not? Should I reverse the healing?”
I freeze, hand still extended toward him, his claw hovering an inch from my palm.
Shit. This is happening so fast. Why did I agree to this? Now he expects me to give myself to him completely?
I start shaking my head, refusal on my lips. Ready to tell him yes, take the healing back, I want out, I’ve made a terrible mistake—
But the words stick in my throat.
Because running like that—even terrified out of my mind—was also the most incredible feeling I’ve ever experienced. I’ve been trapped by my body’s limitations my entire life. And just because I couldn’t escape today doesn’t mean I never could.
Even if I spend a decade with him as payment for this freedom, that’s probably longer than I had left anyway.
I study the creature, who seems slightly less terrifying each moment I adjust to his appearance. “How long will the healing last?”
“Forever. And now that you’ve been touched by divine light, you’ll live far longer than ordinary humans.”
I blink, imagining everything I could accomplish with.
.. a life without expiration dates. I could finally build a real career without wondering if there’s any point since I’d never see retirement.
I could focus on my art, not because I hoped to burn bright before dying young, but because I’d have time to truly master it.
Is a blank canvas of infinite possibility really worth—
I meet the demon’s gaze. My head still spins thinking about how my future just transformed from a curse word into something limitless.
Am I really not willing to make this deal with the devil for even a chance at all of that?
The demon grins, displaying all those razor-sharp teeth like a wolf who isn’t even bothering to wear sheep’s clothing. And I’m lying to myself if I pretend I walked into this blindly.
The truth is, I chose this. I climbed his mountain. I made the deal.
And honestly? Looking at him now—really looking—he’s not exactly hard on the eyes. Terrifying, yes. But there’s something almost... magnificent about him. The way his massive frame seems designed for power and protection. The careful way he’s holding back all that strength.
“Okay,” I whisper, but this time it’s not surrender.
It’s a choice.
The claw he’s been holding out moves that final inch, flips over, and slices through my clothing like it’s made of tissue paper.
“Then you are mine,” he says.
And despite everything—the fear, the uncertainty, the complete insanity of this situation—I feel something hot and electric shoot through me at those words.
Maybe, I think as I watch this powerful creature approach with such careful restraint, maybe I want to be his.