Lyra didn't sleep that night.
She sat near the mouth of the cave, watching the stars crawl across the dark canvas of sky. Her fingertips toyed with a thread of magic — idle, dangerous — as her thoughts spiraled around the man passed out on her cot.
No. Not a man.
A devil.
And not just any devil. Kael Dravon. She'd heard that name before, whispered in the darker corners of the galaxy. Stories about a prince of Sector Nox, born from hellfire and bloodlines older than empires. A conqueror. A killer. A demon who took what he wanted — and destroyed what he didn't.
What in the stars was he doing here?
And why the hell had she brought him into her sanctuary?
She could still feel the echo of his heat on her skin. Not just the physical warmth — but something deeper, something ancient. When his eyes met hers in the smoke, something inside her had stirred.
Not fear.Not yet.
But something far more dangerous.
Curiosity.
By morning, the smoke from the crash had cleared, but the tension inside the cave had thickened.
Lyra rose, brushing the dust from her robes, and walked to the cot. He was still unconscious, but his breathing had steadied. His body had stopped burning up, though the red markings still pulsed faintly under his skin like living fire.
She reached out a hand to check his forehead—then paused.
His eyes snapped open.
Gold. Liquid fire.
She froze.
So did he.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just stared. Like two predators who had suddenly realized they were sharing the same cage.
Then, slowly, he smirked.
"Well," he said, voice rough and low, "you're prettier than the battlefield I was expecting."
Lyra arched a brow. "And you're more conscious than I'd prefer."
He pushed himself up on one elbow, wincing slightly. The sheet slipped from his chest, revealing more of those flame-marked muscles.
He noticed her stare.
She rolled her eyes. "You're not the first shirtless man I've seen, devil."
"No," he said, grin widening. "But I bet I'm the first who fell out of the stars into your arms."
She snorted despite herself, then instantly regretted it.
"I should've let the crash finish you," she muttered, standing straight.
"But you didn't," he replied, eyes sharpening. "Why?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she turned away, busying herself with lighting the cooking flames.
"You're in a cavern shielded by ancient magic. No one can track you here," she said calmly. "You'll rest. You'll heal. And then you'll leave."
He sat up slowly, watching her with a predator's interest. "So you're not going to kill me?"
"Don't tempt me."
He chuckled again, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes this time. "You don't even know who I am."
"I know enough," she replied. "Kael Dravon. The devil prince. Rumored to burn his enemies alive with a kiss. Wanted by half the galaxy."
He tilted his head. "You missed the part where I'm also very charming."
She turned to face him, expression cool.
"You crashed into my moon, threatened my safety, and called out my magic — all in the first five minutes. You're lucky I didn't bury you in the crater."
Kael gave a lazy shrug, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the effort. "Would've been a hell of a way to go. Buried by a beauty."
Lyra ignored the flicker in her chest. "Flatter me again and I'll turn you into a torch."
His smile faded, just slightly. "So you really are a sorceress."
Her jaw tightened.
That word… it wasn't safe. Not anymore.
"I'm no one," she said. "Not anymore."
Kael's eyes lingered on her a beat too long. "That's a lie. You smell like old power. Ancient."
She didn't like how he said it. As if her magic was something intimate. Something he could taste.
"I saved your life. That doesn't mean you get to dig into mine," she snapped.
He raised both hands in mock surrender, but the way his gaze slid over her said he was far from done.
Lyra turned away again, but she could feel the weight of him behind her — not just his eyes, but his presence. It was heavy. Magnetic. Wrong in all the right ways.
"Why were you falling?" she asked finally. "Devils don't crash unless they're hunted. Or banished."
Kael leaned back against the stone wall, jaw tightening. "Let's just say... loyalty in my world comes with a cost. And I refused to pay it."
She didn't ask for more. Not yet. But his words sat with her like a riddle.
Later, as the cave dimmed into twilight, Kael dozed again. But Lyra couldn't shake the tension in her bones. She wandered to the pool at the back of the cave — the one she used for healing rituals.
She dipped her hands into the water.
Steam curled upward. Her magic still simmered beneath her skin. Restless.
She stared at her reflection. The woman staring back looked calm, composed. But inside…
There was a hum.
A pulse.
Like something waiting.
"You glow when you're angry."
The voice behind her made her whirl.
Kael stood barefoot, shirtless, shadows clinging to his skin like silk. His eyes gleamed in the low light.
"I wasn't angry," she said, heart hammering.
He stepped closer, slow.
"No?" His voice dropped. "Then why does your magic tremble when I speak?"
She hated that he was right.
Hated more that he knew it.
"You shouldn't be standing yet," she said.
He kept coming.
"I heal fast," he murmured. "Devils tend to when they find something... worth healing for."
Now he was too close. The space between them cracked with tension.
Lyra met his eyes. "If you're trying to seduce me, you're about three days too early."
He smiled, slow and dark. "Three days, hmm? I can wait."
And stars, the way he said it…
It didn't sound like a threat.
It sounded like a promise.