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He shudders, hands spasming around my waist. The silent sound he makes—caught between a growl and a sob—tears through me. “Valentina!”

I kiss down his jaw, over the blood-streaked hollow of his throat, tasting the coppery tang of battles lost. He lifts his hips, cock plunging deeper, harder, and the sharp edge of pain only makes it sweeter. I bite my lip, unable to breathe, tears blurring my vision. It feels like I’m breaking open from the inside, pleasure burning away the fear.

His rhythm grows erratic. I tighten around him, chasing the edge that looms just beyond reach. The slap of our bodies fills the ruin, raw and primal, until sound itself feels sacred. Our connection is wordless—no vows, no lies, only this: the desperate pulse of two souls locked in a final act of defiance.

When I reach the peak, it’s not quiet. “Malphas!” I cry out, head thrown back, colors exploding behind my eyes. My pussy spasms around his cock, slick and soaked, as I fall apart in his arms. My body trembles, pulsing, every nerve unraveling under the weight of release. He follows instantly, a raw snarl ripping from his chest as he jerks beneath me, cock buried to hilt inside me.

“Valentina!” I feel him come, exploding inside me. It’s warm, all his. He arches under me, tail lashing the air, a broken snarl on his lips. For one agonizing heartbeat, there’s no monarchy, no prophecy—only us, raw and desperate, clinging to a fragile instant of ecstasy.

Then the world returns, and the temple’s gloom presses close. Guilt and despair crash in like a tide, washing away the brief oblivion. I slump over him, trembling. He cups my face, that savage edge in his eyes tempered by something bleak.

Silence weighs heavier than ever. My tears keep falling, unstoppable. Malphas exhales, brushing a claw through my tangled hair. “Valentina,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

I swallow, forcing my gaze to meet his. The aftershocks of pleasure fade, replaced by a suffocating sense of doom. “I can’t do this,” I whisper, mind spinning with the text I read.I must sacrifice my life to free him—one life for another.

He frowns, confusion edging his features. “You regret what just happened?”

My throat constricts. “No, I—yes, I do. Because everything is hopeless.” My voice cracks, and I push off his chest, sliding away from him, hugging myself against the cold. The temple’s broken pillars loom, indifferent to our heartbreak.

He sits up, the light glancing off the ridges of his horns, the bruises on his broad torso. “What do you mean hopeless? We’ll keep running. We’ll find a way.”

A sob escapes me, tears hot on my cheeks. “There is no way. I saw the text. The archivist’s notes confirm it: to break your contract, an Abyssborn must give themselves entirely.Blood’s final tether.It means I have to die to free you.”

The color drains from his face. “That… can’t be certain.”

“I read it,” I insist, voice quivering. “We thought the ritual needed my blood, but it’s more than that. The entire text spells out a life-for-life exchange. If I want to sever your oath, I must surrender my existence. There’s no middle ground.”

Silence stretches, thick as lead. His molten eyes roil with conflicting emotion—anger, grief, disbelief. “There must be an alternative,” he growls, fists clenching. “I refuse to accept your death as the price.”

My tears come faster. “What choice do we have? The monarchy hunts us. You can’t break the oath alone, and each defiance cripples you. If I do nothing, you remain enslaved. If I do something, I… I die.” My chest heaves, bitterness choking me.

He surges forward on his knees, snatching my wrists. His claws dig in, not enough to hurt, but enough to force my gaze to his. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself,” he snarls. “Not for me.We’ll find a way to circumvent the prophecy, twist it in our favor. Demonic magic can be subverted.”

I laugh hollowly, tears slipping through. “You think we can outwit ancient forces older than the monarchy itself? That prophecy has endured countless centuries.”

His horns dip, a savage light in his eyes. “We defy everything else—why not fate too?” Then his voice softens. “You asked me not to let you go. I won’t. This can’t be the end.”

My heart aches at the raw conviction in his tone, but despair lingers.We can’t outrun destiny.I slump, burying my face in my hands. The temple’s silence feels like an accusation, each shattered pillar a reminder that all grand structures eventually crumble.

He pulls me into his lap again, ignoring our discarded clothes. The gesture is almost gentle. “We’re survivors,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to mine. “We survived my fortress falling, the monarchy’s blades, the illusions. We’ll survive this. I’ll tear reality apart before letting them take your life.”

Emotion clogs my throat, making speech impossible. A wave of gratitude and heartbreak floods me, so intense I can’t hold back. I cling to him, tears hot on my cheeks, trembling from the aftershocks of our desperate union. He strokes my hair in tentative comfort, as if uncertain how to soothe.

Time drifts in the hush. Rain begins to fall through the broken roof again, soft patters echoing in the cavernous hall. I press my ear to his chest, feeling the slow thud of his heartbeat. Each beat is a reminder that our time is borrowed.If the prophecy is true, I might never share another day with him without paying the ultimate price.

He kisses the top of my head, voice rumbling in my ear. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, raw guilt seeping through. “I dragged you into this. If I’d killed you at the ritual?—”

Rage snaps through me, and I jerk back. “You think I’d rather be dead than… this?” My voice wobbles, but anger sparks. “No. I choose life, Malphas. No matter how broken it is. Don’t dare assume killing me then would be mercy.”

He winces, swallowing. “That’s not what I— I just wish I’d known the cost. I wouldn’t have pinned my hope on you so readily.”

The admission stings, but sorrow overshadows it. “You needed me as your lifeline. And I— I needed someone to show me I wasn’t powerless. This is what we get.”

A hush settles. Guilt and despair weigh heavy, overshadowing the intimacy we just shared. I can still feel the ghost of his touch, the warmth that flared between us for one bright moment. Now all that remains is the chilling knowledge that I might have to die to break his chains.

He releases a slow exhale, fangs baring in frustration. “I refuse to let you sacrifice yourself,” he repeats, steeling his jaw. “Prophecy or not, we’ll find a different path. The monarchy can be undone by other means. We’ll keep searching for relics, for a sorcerer wise enough to unravel that vow. I’ll tear the monarchy limb from limb if I must. But you are not a lamb to slaughter.”

Tears glimmer in my eyes again, gratitude and heartbreak colliding. I’m disinclined to argue. A flicker of hope struggles in my chest, warring against the grim text I read.Could we truly cheat fate?