Captivating The Demon King: Eve's Obsession

Being the king's favored woman in his harem didn't just make Tamara the most likely candidate for queen—it granted her a privilege no other could dream of: unrestricted access to the demon king's chambers.

And most of all… the sacred right to brush and style his long, dark red hair.

Tamara lived for this.

To be this close to the most feared and desired demon in all of Hell. To run her fingers through those long strands that shimmered like bloodied silk under firelight. To decide how his hair would flow for the day—it was a small thing, yes, but in the eyes of the thousands of female demons clawing for the king's affection, it made her untouchable.

She was chosen.

Out of every single woman brought to the royal harem, he had looked at her once and said something she never forgot.

"You have very long hair. I knew someone who did, too."

She had stared at him, wide-eyed, mesmerized by the otherworldly perfection of his face. The rumors had never done him justice.

"Stay close to me," he had added. "You belong to me now."

And just like that, she had ascended—plucked from the harem, moved into the Red Palace, and declared the king's favorite. Everyone envied her. She was living what the others only dared dream: to one day become queen of Hell.

Now, standing behind him with a golden comb in hand, Tamara gently ran it down his long hair. The glow of the setting sun through the balcony bathed his silhouette in gold. He sat silently before the grand dragon mirror, eyes closed, unmoving. She admired his reflection with a soft smile and flushed cheeks.

How could a demon hold this much power and beauty?

It was only right that he chose her. She was his equal. Not some lowly mortal...

Not her.

Tamara's eyes darkened at the memory. A mortal mate? How dare fate be so cruel? She wanted to scoff. But the demon king's expression remained unreadable.

"She will remind you of your past," the devil's voice echoed again in Lucien's mind, "...and she will become your future."

Lucien's eyes flickered open.

That damned prophecy.

He clenched his jaw.

He understood now what the devil meant. His mate wasn't just a random mortal girl.

She was her.

The reincarnation of Eve.

He saw it in her eyes—the same innocence, the same betrayal hiding behind that beauty. How could fate have the audacity to send her back into his life?

He would never allow history to repeat itself.

Lucien turned in his seat, facing Tamara. His gaze dropped to her waist-length hair, the one thing about her that had once reminded him of Eve. His eyes traced the familiar darkness of her features, then dropped to her body.

He sighed.

He was doing it again—searching for a phantom in a woman who wasn't her.

"My king?" Tamara fell to her knees before him, her voice soft and concerned. "What troubles you? You seem so tense."

He looked down at her. She was devoted, loyal… safe.

His gloved hand, adorned with the sigil of the wrathful dragons, reached out and gently stroked her cheek.

Tamara's breath caught. Her heart fluttered as his hand slid down her face, resting beneath her chin. She ached for him to love her fully—to claim her completely and finally make her queen.

"If you ever gave your heart to another," he said suddenly, his voice low and haunted, "I would consume your soul."

Tamara's eyes widened. She waited, hoping he'd say more, that he'd offer her a promise, a confession—something.

Instead, his hand dropped away.

"I should have devoured her soul," he murmured.

Tamara froze.

There it was again—that woman he spoke of in riddles. The one who haunted him. She didn't understand it, but she hated her all the same.

"Maybe then… she wouldn't have dared let herself be claimed by another."

Lucien stood abruptly, his frustration boiling over. Without another word, he stormed from the room, leaving Tamara kneeling alone with her head bowed, lips pressed together in silent despair.

☆

Far above the Red Palace, on the massive balcony that overlooked the blood-colored sky, the Demon King of Hell paced like a caged beast.

The sky churned and growled above him, reflecting his turmoil. Crimson clouds rumbled with thunder. The wind picked up, fierce and wild, swirling around his figure.

Why had he let her go?

Why hadn't he punished her properly? Hurt her the way she once broke him?

"She chose Adam," he whispered bitterly. "Even after everything I did…"

His eyes burned, darker than ever. The demon bead on his wrist—his cursed lifeline—was still glowing, pulsing like a living thing. Since the moment she'd said his name, since she bowed before him and looked at him with those eyes, it hadn't stopped.

"Eve…"

Her name tasted like ash on his tongue.

She had betrayed him once.

She'd do it again.

This time, he would make sure it was him who held the dagger.

As if summoned by his wrath, the royal military and bishops appeared on the balcony behind him, kneeling in perfect rows, waiting in silence.

"My mate…" he began, his voice cold and reverent all at once. His eyes didn't leave the glowing bead. "Find out where she lives."

He turned slightly, his voice sharp.

"Bring her back to me. Alive. Unharmed. Even if it is against her will."

"Yes, Your Eminence!" the soldiers chorused.

Lucien slipped the bead from his wrist and stared at it in his palm.

So fragile. So cursed.

"You gave me up once," he thought. "So now, I will ruin whatever second chance the gods have foolishly granted you."

"And by the time I'm done… the only thing you'll ever feel by my side, dear mate…"

"...is pain."

He closed his hand around the bead.

And the skies above Hell wept with fire.