Chapter Three: The Devil’s Demands

The morning light filtered through the high, arched windows of the castle, casting faint shadows across the stone floor. Elara stood by the window in the grand hall, her fingers tracing the chill of the glass. She wore the simple black dress that marked her as a servant, the fabric cinching lightly around her waist before flowing down to her ankles. It was plain, unadorned—but somehow, against her pale skin, it only made her appear more ethereal, like a ghost drifting through Lucifer’s dark domain.

She turned at the sound of footsteps, her breath catching as Lucifer appeared at the far end of the hall. His presence filled the room, the air seeming to thicken with shadows in his wake. He moved with a predatory grace, his eyes gleaming like embers as they settled on her. For a moment, she felt like a deer caught in the gaze of a hunter—knowing she should flee, yet unable to move.

“Admiring the view?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, but carrying an edge that sent a shiver through her. He stopped just a few steps away, close enough for her to catch the faint scent of smoke and something darker, something forbidden.

Elara swallowed, tearing her gaze away from him. “I was... just thinking. About the castle.”

“Ah, yes. Quite different from the world you knew.” He leaned against the window frame, his tall figure casting a shadow over her. His eyes flicked over her face, lingering on the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lashes brushed against her skin when she blinked. A dangerous smirk tugged at his lips, as if he could read the uncertainty hidden beneath her calm exterior.

“It is cold here, isn’t it?” he murmured, his tone almost mocking. “Yet you seem to endure it well.”

Elara stiffened, feeling his words cut deeper than the chill in the air. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even though looking into those crimson eyes was like staring into a flame that threatened to consume her. “I’m not afraid of the cold, or of you, Lucifer,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his expression. “You think I’m a liar?”

She hesitated, and he took that moment to close the distance between them, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. The touch was gentle, but she could feel the power thrumming beneath his skin, like a storm held just behind his cool facade. Her breath hitched, warmth flooding her cheeks despite the icy air.

“Careful, Elara,” he whispered, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “You may find that the things you think you understand about me are only the surface of something far more... dangerous.”

For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them, the way his hand lingered just beside her face, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. Her lips parted, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but the words died as she caught the flash of something else in his eyes—something raw and unguarded, quickly buried beneath his usual indifference.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled back, the moment snapping like a thread stretched too tight. His expression shifted, growing colder, more distant, as if the brief intimacy had never happened. He turned his back to her, leaving her with a lingering sense of loss that she couldn’t quite understand.

“Follow me,” he ordered, his voice once more like the crack of ice. “It’s time you learned your duties properly.”

Elara bit the inside of her cheek, reminding herself that whatever she had seen in those fleeting seconds—whatever softness she thought she might have glimpsed—was just another trap. She followed him through the shadowed corridors, the cold biting into her bones, even as she fought to steady the erratic beat of her heart.

They arrived at a grand dining room, the ceiling arching high above, adorned with intricate carvings of creatures Elara didn’t recognize. A long table stretched out beneath a chandelier that burned with unnatural flames, their light casting flickering shadows across the polished wood. Lucifer gestured for her to approach, a cold smile curling his lips.

“You will serve me here each morning,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Breakfast, tea, whatever I desire. Do you understand?”

Elara nodded, but the defiance in her eyes lingered, a spark that refused to be smothered by his cold commands. She stepped closer to the table, setting her hands on the smooth surface as she looked at him, daring him to say more.

He watched her for a moment, his gaze trailing over her, lingering on the soft curve of her lips, the vulnerability that still clung to her despite the bitterness in her eyes. It was that vulnerability that made him want to test her, to see how far she would bend before she broke.

Leaning in, he spoke just above a whisper, his voice like velvet over iron. “You do know what you’ve gotten yourself into, don’t you, Elara?”

She met his gaze, her own voice barely above a murmur. “I know enough.”

His smirk widened, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw something darker lurking behind his smile, something hungry. But then he stepped back, turning his attention to the shadows beyond the windows, as if dismissing her.

“Then you’ll find your way, I’m sure,” he said, his tone bored, but his eyes still smoldering when they glanced her way. “Now go, before I decide your lessons need a more... personal touch.”

Elara’s cheeks flushed, a mix of anger and something more dangerous warming her skin as she turned and walked away. She could feel his gaze on her back, burning through the fabric of her dress, making her wonder if perhaps she had made a mistake—one that she could never take back.

But even as she moved down the corridors, shadows trailing after her, she couldn’t quite shake the memory of his touch or the way his voice seemed to linger, like a promise she didn’t want to understand.

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