*CASSIEL'S POV*
I had saved him from a demon ambush. I should have left to destroy the creature before it caused a rampage, but after five hundred years, I had finally been reunited with him. I wanted to stay by his side—by any means.
"Noe," I whispered.
The name had barely left my lips before I saw the way he reacted. A flicker of something—confusion? Recognition? It settled deep in my chest, a quiet confirmation that he really was my human.
For a moment, I just watched him. Studied him like I used to. He was different now—physically a stranger. Taller, broader, his wavy hair shorter, his frame filled with muscle rather than the lean form of the boy I once knew. But his eyes… they were the same deep brown as before, smoldering and sharp. Something familiar. Something mine.
He gazed up at the night sky, lost in thought, and I wished I could hold him. Tell him how much I had missed him. How much I still loved him.
But I didn't want to scare him off.
I was so overwhelmed that I didn't sense the demon approaching until it was too late.
A shadow lunged from the darkness—then a sharp crack.
Damian was kicked off his feet, his body sent crashing into a nearby wall.
"No!"
I moved instantly, kneeling by his side, scanning for injuries. He groaned but pushed himself up, and relief surged through me—he was strong. Stronger than before. My pride swelled at the thought, but it was drowned by a surge of fury. The ones who dared to lay a hand on him—
I turned to the demon.
It didn't get the chance to move before I crushed its head in my grip. Bone and flesh crumbled into dust between my fingers.
Then, I saw them. More demons, surrounding Damian.
He had drawn a weapon—where had he gotten that? He held it defensively, eyes darting for an escape. Smart, but they would tear him apart if he hesitated. My heart clenched.
I tore through them. Each one fell to dust beneath my hands, their bodies nothing but weak shells compared to my rage.
Damian killed the last one.
I shouldn't lie—I felt a surge of something as I watched him do it. A thrill. An ache.
He was breathtaking.
I walked toward him, stepping over the remains of the creatures who dared to attack him. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, though his stance was still tense, his breath uneven. He didn't trust me yet.
I released a calming aura, just enough to ease his nerves. His expression softened, his breathing slowed.
"You fought really well," I said. "You're strong."
The tips of his ears turned pink.
"Thanks," he grumbled. Then, after a pause: "One question. Who—or rather, what—are you? What were those creatures? And why were they trying to kill me?"
"Staying out late is dangerous. Let's go home."
He blinked at me. "My house?"
I nodded.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. I could see the gears turning in his head, his instinct to argue, but he let out a tired exhale and started walking. I followed.
It wasn't long before I noticed his limp. My chest tightened.
"I can carry you."
"I can walk, thank you."
The sharp edge of his voice made me chuckle. Still as stubborn as ever.
I let the silence stretch between us, content just to walk beside him again.
For the first time in five hundred years, I felt at peace.