The air in the Cathedral of Chains felt like it had been pressed through a sieve, thin and sharp as a whisper.
Nate's fingers clenched around the hem of his cloak, the fabric pulling tightly against his chest as if trying to hold in the heat that still seared his soul. The magic had flared hot and blinding, leaving him trembling with an intensity he couldn't shake. His pulse thrummed loudly in his ears, and his heart beat faster than it ever had in his life. He should've been panicking. Should've been shouting for help.
But all he could hear now was the soft hum of a voice, curling through his thoughts, like the delicate scrape of nails down skin.
> "You really are a handsome thing, aren't you, Prince Nate?"
The voice was lazy, intimate, as if Jake were leaning over him, whispering into the curve of his ear. Nate's breath hitched, his back stiffening. He stood taller, but even the stone beneath him seemed to shift, like it recognized the presence of something far more dangerous than the demon bound in front of him.
He didn't flinch. He wasn't supposed to.
"I didn't ask for your commentary," Nate said, the words cold, sharp—he had to hold the mask of control.
> "You don't have to ask. I've got plenty to say, darling." Jake's voice caressed his thoughts like velvet, each word sliding deeper than it should. "It's cute, really, watching you try to act so high and mighty when all I want to do is… peel the layers back. Slowly."
Nate's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together, but he didn't allow himself to show the impact Jake's words had on him. He couldn't—he wouldn't let the demon see him break. Not yet.
His fingers tightened around his gloves, the leather biting into his palm. But still, the warmth from the binding ritual lingered on his skin—an invisible touch, Jake's touch, lingering like a burn. It wasn't just magic. It was something more. Something dangerous.
> "Why didn't you ask about your brother?" Jake mused, the words almost sounding like a tease. "You're supposed to be so clever, Prince. But even you couldn't be that stupid."
Nate stiffened. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, thicker, each breath like inhaling smoke.
> "I'm not here for your riddles, Jake. I have a kingdom to rule." His voice was hard, sharp—the prince's voice. But inside, his heart twisted. A prince. A king, now. And still so alone.
Jake's voice swirled around him, soft and slithering, like it was tracing every edge of his thoughts.
> "A kingdom… how boring. Don't you want to live first, Nate? Don't you want to taste life before you bury yourself in the weight of it all? You know, you smell different from the others. The others were weak, desperate to control me. But you, sweet prince, you're different. I can feel it."
Nate's breath caught in his throat. The words were like a touch—cool fingers sliding under his ribs, just barely brushing the heart he tried to keep locked away.
"I'm not weak."
> "Oh, no," Jake whispered, his voice dropping lower, closer, closer—as if Jake were standing behind him, whispering into the curve of his neck. "But you will be. You'll break soon enough. All it takes is a little push…"
The way Jake said it—the way he knew. Nate's pulse quickened, the thought of breaking, of surrendering to the pull of the demon sliding through him like heat over ice. No. He couldn't. Not now. Not when everything had been ripped from him. He had a duty to this kingdom, to his people. To Eric's memory.
He didn't need Jake's temptation. He wouldn't fall for it.
> "You're already falling, Nate. Already slipping. And it's okay." Jake's voice dipped with amusement, like a lover's whisper. "You can let go. I'll catch you."
Nate's fingers dug into his own skin. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, the tension building, the walls in his mind cracking slowly, bit by bit. His stomach fluttered with something dangerous, and it was all because of that voice, curling and wrapping itself around him, tugging at the threads of everything he'd sworn to protect.
Jake wasn't just in his head. He was inside.
> "I've got you now, darling," Jake purred, and Nate could almost feel his breath against the back of his neck. No one can hear us here. No one but you and me. "I've always got you."
Nate's chest tightened. He stepped forward, the cold stone floor beneath him feeling heavier, as if the weight of the crown he now wore was pulling him further down. His mind screamed to stay focused, to pull away.
But the demon's touch, that whispered tenderness, held him captive.
> "Don't worry," Jake continued, his voice now wrapping around Nate's thoughts like a chain. "You'll get used to this. You'll get used to me. You'll see—there's no way out, sweet prince. Not anymore."
The words settled inside Nate's chest like a brand, sinking deep under his skin. He clenched his fists, digging the nails into his palms until it hurt, but still… still, the heat from the binding ritual lingered. He couldn't escape it.
"You don't own me, Jake," Nate growled, his voice low, a hint of desperation creeping in.
Jake's laugh came, soft but predatory, and Nate could feel it in his bones.
> "Oh, sweet Nate…" Jake's voice dropped lower, the amusement turning into something far darker, far more intimate. "You already belong to me."
Nate's heart skipped, the words sinking deep, and for a fleeting moment, just a fraction of a second, he wondered if Jake might be right.
---