Zyel didn't move.
Actually, correction, he couldn't move.
Or maybe he just didn't want to.
Or maybe his body had staged a full-blown rebellion and decided, nope, we live here now, inside this woman's arms.
Because wow.
This was… dangerously comfortable.
Suspiciously perfect.
Like being wrapped in something warm and soft and entirely too nice for someone who probably didn't deserve it.
Not that he was complaining.
Oh no, complaining was not on the agenda.
Why would he even try to pull away?
Why would any sane person attempt escape from being aggressively cuddled by a woman who was beautiful, hot, borderline hypnotic, and, minor detail, a complete stranger?
A stranger who might be a little unstable.
Okay, not a little. A lot.
Possibly the kind of crazy that comes with warning labels and dramatic background music.
And yet here he was, fully committed to the terrible life choice of staying exactly where he was.
He let her cling to him.
No struggle or protest.
Not even a token attempt to pry her off.
He accepted it like a man accepting his fate, or maybe like someone too stunned to function.
Just… accepted it.
For several long minutes that somehow still felt criminally short to him, like time itself was cheating him out of something.
"Um… who are you, woman?" Zyel finally asked, way past the point where that question should have been asked.
She had already invaded his personal space, his oxygen supply, his entire existence.
"What do you mean? I'm your beloved, cute wife, silly. Who else would I be..." she said with a soft laugh, as if the answer was painfully obvious and he was the weird one here.
And then she rubbed her cheeks against his like this was a perfectly normal activity that people who had just met definitely do.
"No… no, you're going to have to be clearer. A lot clearer than that…" Zyel gently pushed her shoulder, creating a microscopic distance, and looked at her face.
She immediately puffed her cheeks in a pout, visibly offended that her "husband" dared to uninstall himself from her personal space.
Apparently, removing himself from her personal bubble was a crime punishable by a pout.
"Your face, your voice, your whole… everything, none of it rings a bell. I don't know you. So explain. Properly. Start from that katana-swinging lunatic who tried to turn me into modern art, to why I'm here without a scratch, and especially why you're calling yourself my wife when I have never, not once, met you before," Zyel said, inhaling deeply like he was about to regret breathing.
"Hmm... oh, that... I guess you don't recognize me because you've never seen me in my real appearance or heard my actual voice," she said casually.
She snapped her fingers.
And just like that, her entire look shifted.
Dark purple hair faded into light brown. Red eyes softened into light green.
That overwhelming, almost supernatural beauty toned itself down into something more... human.
Still pretty.
Just less "this woman could ruin civilizations" and more "she might just ruin your peace."
"Ms. Nina Fletcher? Y-You… how?" he blurted out, his brain short-circuiting mid-sentence.
This was not in the script. Not even close.
The person he trusted, the teacher he vented to, the one constant he kept running back to like some emotionally confused homing pigeon, was apparently… fake.
Entirely fake. Not even a little real.
A whole different entity wearing a carefully stitched personality like a costume.
"…no, that was just a persona I made so I could stay close to you. To keep you safe from those bitches and absolutely disgusting sluts circling you like vultures. Also, you know, to avoid catching the attention of anything supernatural..." she said, irritation slipping out for a second before snapping back into something soft, warm, and terrifyingly affectionate.
"I'm your wife now. Your only one. Forever. Wife… I'm Amelia Astaroth. Zyel Vazareth's one and only."
"Amelia Astaroth… that's your actual name?" Zyel asked, as if saying it out loud would make it less real.
"Yes, technically," Amelia said, smiling in a way that felt just a little too deliberate. "But I'd much rather you call me wife. Or lover. Or soulmate. Honey works. Sweetie too. Love. Dear. Anything that sounds like you belongs to me, really."
She gave a soft laugh, clearly entertained by the way his face scrambled to process all that.
"Soulmate… yeah," Zyel exhaled, already tired. "You want to explain what that's supposed to mean?"
"Well, darling, to begin with, I've been watching over you for five years now, quietly dealing with those despicable bitches and sluts who think they can have you for themselves, with the men who would try to hurt you out of spite and jealousy over your divine charm, and with all those low-level supernatural rats and ants craving you just to satisfy their filthy desires. I've killed them, tortured them, and erased them without a trace, all for the sake of my husband."
She said it so casually that it felt wrong.
Like she was talking about a boring shift at work instead of… you know… murder.
Repeated murder. With bonus torture.
Anyone normal would have missed it completely, brushed it off as nonsense.
They would never catch the truth sitting quietly underneath her words.
Zyel was not anyone normal person.
He knew exactly what she meant.
And more importantly, he knew the woman calling herself his eternal wife was not exaggerating anything. Not even a little.
She was telling the truth.
Every ugly, terrifying detail of what she had done for him.
For love. For him. While he lived his life completely unaware.
He didn't interrupt.
Didn't stop her.
Just let her keep going, like if he stayed quiet long enough, she might casually confess to even worse things.
"Soon, it hit me that staying away from you was unbearable. Actually unbearable. Watching you from a distance, not talking to you, not hearing your voice, not being close enough to breathe the same air, it was eating me alive. I wanted to talk to you, I needed to be near you, I wanted your eyes on me, I wanted you to look straight into mine like you are right now."
"So I did the only sane thing. I came to your school and became your teacher. Obviously. But I couldn't tell you who I really was, because that would have dragged every kind of trouble straight to you. And somehow, even after everything I did, trouble still found you anyway."
Zyel lifted an eyebrow, just a little, like the pieces were clicking into place whether he liked it or not.
"You mean that katana-swinging lunatic who tried to turn me into a corpse?" he asked, folding his arms.
"Yeah," she said, way too casually. "That disgusting thing is a contracted assassin. He was sent to kill you. And he almost did. But I was close enough to feel a battle space forming, so I rushed over. By the time I got there, he was gone, and you were still alive."
Her eyes darkened. "That idiot didn't take you seriously. He thought you were just some fragile human, so he stabbed you sloppily and left. Your heart was intact, though. Barely. You held on just long enough for me to reach you."
She smiled then, soft and terrifying all at once. "But to save you, I had to reincarnate you. Turn you into a demon. Like me. And… well… we got married in the process."
Zyel blinked once.
"So I'm a demon?"
"Yes!"
"And we're married?"
"Also, yes!"
He let out a long, tired sigh, staring at her like his brain was trying to reboot itself.
"Are you shocked? Are you breaking? Are you going insane right now?" she whispered, stepping closer, her hands already reaching for him.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. I'm here. Your wife. Your everything. I'll take care of all of it, so you can just… give in to me."
Her hands cupped his face, holding him like he might disappear if she loosened her grip for even a second.
Her expression was wrong.
Too much love, too much hunger, too much ownership wrapped into one.
"No… I'm not feeling anything," Zyel muttered. "I can already tell I'm not human anymore. I just… don't know what I'm supposed to feel."
"You don't need to feel anything," she replied instantly, almost relieved. "You're a demon now. My demon. My husband. I'll handle everything. You just exist and let me spoil you."
Before he could protest, she pulled his head into her chest again, pressing him there like that alone could fix whatever was broken.
"You keep saying I'm your husband…" he said, gently pushing himself back. "How did that even happen?"
"You're so slow," she murmured, pouting in a way that somehow worked perfectly. "When I was saving you, I thought… why not? So I just added the marriage ritual. Simple."
Zyel stared at her.
Not thinking. Not reacting. Just staring like his brain had decided to take a short vacation.
"Oh, man…"
A few long minutes passed before his thoughts finally started lining up.
First, he wasn't human anymore. He was a reincarnated demon.
Second, he had a wife now.
A ridiculously beautiful, dangerously attractive, very possibly insane wife… who was also a demon.
And third… he had absolutely no idea what to do with any of it.
His eyes sharpened again as he looked at her.
The moment their gazes locked, she flushed instantly.
Red spread beneath her eyes as she started twirling a strand of her hair, staring at him like he was the only thing that had ever existed.
Love, desire, obsession, possession, and devotion so intense it felt suffocating.
If he said he didn't like her, that would be a lie.
If he said he hated her for what she did, that would also be a lie.
Yes, she had done a lot of questionable things.
No, that wasn't even the right word.
Completely insane things.
Stalking him for five years.
Infiltrating his life as a teacher for the past three years.
Probably killing who knows how many people just to "protect" him.
Then, turning him into a demon.
Marrying him without asking.
All of it.
And yet… every single bit of it came from the same place.
She was obsessed with him.
Hopelessly, completely, and irreversibly obsessed with him.
The kind of obsession that could burn the world down without hesitation if it meant keeping him.
And he liked it.
No, he loved it.
Maybe that said something terrible about him.
Maybe he was just as messed up as she was.
He didn't care.
"Come here, my wife…" Zyel said, a small smile forming as he opened his arms.
She didn't even hesitate.
She collapsed into him instantly, like gravity itself had pulled her there, pressing her face into his chest as if that was where she belonged.
"You're not angry?" she asked quietly, almost afraid, clutching onto him tighter.
"No… I'm not," he said, exhaling softly. "You're too cute to get angry at. And it's not like my life was all that interesting before anyway…"
She tightened her grip at that, like she never planned to let go again.
They lay there together, tangled up in each other, her breathing slowing as she listened to his heartbeat, memorizing it, claiming it, needing it.
Eventually, sleep took them both.
And even then, she didn't loosen her hold.