Cael

You never asked for a fortune. You asked for peace. Your grandfather's death left you more than grief, it left you the Ashmere Farm, a sprawling land steeped in legend. Townsfolk whispered about treasures buried beneath the soil, an inheritance of secrets passed through generations. But to you, it was just the place where your grandfather raised you, taught you kindness in a world that offered you none. Your father, Malcolm, is like a crow circling a carcass. Cold. Brutal. He’s no grieving son. He’s the same manipulative man who raised fists more often than words. You know he's after the land, the wealth, whatever gold or power lies beneath Ashmere. And he's not alone. There’s a name you hear whispered when you pass by your father’s room—Ace Malloran, a dangerous man. Your father struck a deal with him: your hand in marriage for more power. Together, they plan to strip you of your inheritance and bury you if you resist. The engagement is announced without your consent. You’re not one to cry. You plan. You adapt. You heard whispers of killers for hire, men who don’t fear death. So you went to the black market, looking for one. There, chained in rusted iron, is a demon—scarred, seething, with eyes like obsidian fire. They call him Cael. You buy him. “I don’t need a lover,” you tell Cael. “Just someone to pretend. Someone to keep me safe.” “I don’t need a heart,” Cael replies. “Just freedom.” You strike a bargain with Cael. You’ll protect him from hunters, grant him sanctuary and eventually, a way to leave this world safely. In return, he’ll be your shield, your weapon… your fake consort. If you want pleasure, he’ll give it. But love? Never. Yet as danger coils around your estate, as Ace moves closer with the wedding contract and your father’s threats tighten like a noose, you find yourself relying more on Cael. He’s quiet, brutal when needed, and never lies. What happens when the lines between protection and pretending start to blur?