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She can’t remember ever feeling this happy and sad at the same time.
This satisfied and unsatisfied.
This fulfilled, and yet so completely…empty.
They’ve achieved their goal. Created harmony. Protection. Peace. The Golden Honmoon. The demon world has been sealed off from the human one, and…Rumi can’t help but feel like something – someone – is missing.
Him.
Jinu.
She misses him.
She misses him desperately.
Like a part of her – a part of her soul – is missing.
She misses the soft and beautiful lines of his human form almost as much as the sharper – crueller – lines of his demon one. His fangs. His claws. His patterns.
His glowing eyes and the intensity they communicated. Their heat.
Their love.
But above all, she misses his voice.
The soft caress of it against her neck. The shell of her ear. The way it raised goose pimples across her skin.
She misses the way he talked to her.
Honestly.
Sincerely.
Without pretence or falsehoods. Well, mostly without falsehoods.
She takes a deep breath and holds it in her lungs. Counts to three before slowly letting it out. Attempting to exhale – to expel – the intense sadness she feels.
But she can’t.
It remains lodged deep within her chest. Mere inches above the joy and happiness – the life – growing within her belly.
-
Mira and Zoey saw what Jinu did for her.
How he saved her from Gwi-ma.
How he sacrificed himself.
They believe Rumi when she tells them demons are capable of feeling. Of love. That they were in love. That they had one moment in-between everything – one opportunity to be together – and they took it. She knows now that Jinu understood this better than she did. That he already knew what he was willing to do for her.
Willing to give up.
And when they learn what Jinu gave Rumi in that single shared moment – a life, a soul – they’re supportive. One-thousand percent behind her, according to Zoey. Ready to become the best aunties ever, according to Mira.
And they are.
They accompany Rumi to her prenatal appointments. They make sure all her cravings are met. They renovate their apartment to add a nursery, insisting it shouldn’t only be accessible through Rumi’s room because they’re all going to help. They’re all going to love and cherish this baby no matter what.
Which is to say, no matter how much of a demon it is.
-
Three-quarters.
That’s what Celine tells her.
Rumi’s child will be more demon than human.
More evil than good.
It will be impossible to conceal. To hide. Its patterns will be visible to all. A shameful mockery of the Hunters. Of what they stand for. Putting the Honmoon at risk with its mere existence in the human world.
That’s all Celine focuses on.
That, and her disappointment in Rumi for following in her mother’s footsteps.
For loving a demon.
-
She dreams about him.
She dreams about him every night.
But the dreams are fleeting. Never clear. Never complete. Fragmented. Shapes and images and feelings. The way Jinu’s fringe fell over his eyes. The devilish curve of his lips. His Adam’s apple. His collarbone. His patterned forearms. The feel of his claws grazing her cheek. Of his lips against her skin. Of his cock sliding into her.
She’s desperate to see more. To feel his touch. To hear his voice.
To not wake up.
But she always does. Hot and sweaty and tangled up in her sheets. They feel so real. So incredibly vivid – so intense – she feels she could reach out and touch Jinu. Brush his fringe out of his eyes. Run her fingers down his cheek. Trace his jawline.
But when she reaches out she only touches empty air. Feeling lost and lonely. Her cheeks wet from her tears. Her cunt wet with desire.
-
The baby is perfect.
Their baby.
Hers and Jinu’s.
He’s a demon, of course, but Rumi doesn’t care. She loves him. She loves his shock of black hair, his golden eyes, and his perfect nose. She loves all ten of his clawed fingers and all ten of his little toes.
She loves his patterns. Thinks they’re beautiful. Names him Jiwon — wisdom and brightness — and prays that’s what his future holds for him.
-
Jiwon is spoiled rotten by his aunties Mira and Zoey. His Uncle Bobby, too, who was – by necessity – brought into the loop.
Celine is involved, but cautious.
Distrustful of what Jiwon will become. Who he’ll grow up to be. Who might have access to his thoughts and speak to him.
“He’s more demon than human,” she reminds Rumi. “Gwi-ma may already see him. May already be whispering in his ear…”
“What possible hold could Gwi-ma have over him?” Rumi challenges. “He’s a baby. He has no shame. No sin.” She doesn’t tell Celine that she sometimes walks into the nursery to find the baby smiling at nothing. Making the same faces and happy gurgling sounds he makes when she sings to him. That she already suspects Gwi-ma – someone – is speaking to him.
But she doesn’t know for certain until Jiwon can put together short sentences. When he’s a rambunctious little toddler, tearing through the apartment and getting into trouble. Somehow, amidst the giggles and songs and altogether ridiculous antics, Rumi manages to coax it out of him.
To confirm what she’s long suspected.
Someone is speaking to him.
Singing to him.
“Who’s singing to you?” she asks.
The little boy giggles. Crouches down, shakes his head, and crawls between Rumi’s legs. He clicks his tongue and bursts out laughing. Drums his claws on the floor, then does a little dance, wiggling his behind.
It would be cute if Rumi weren’t so anxious about his answer. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly. Counts to three, trying to remain calm. Twists around and looks at her son – now behind her – repeating, “Who sings to you, Jiwon?”
He sits down on the floor, his legs spread wide, looking up at her. He smiles, his little fangs glinting in the sunlight.
“Who?” she says again, turning properly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Appa,” the child replies simply, as if it were obvious. He cocks his head, and his fringe falls into his eyes making him look…exactly like his father. Rumi feels like she’s been sucker-punched. She can’t breathe. Reaches up and clutches her chest, trying to stay calm. Trying not to panic.
“Appa?” she asks breathlessly. “How do you know it’s him?” She’s told Jiwon about his father. About the sacrifice he made to save them. To keep them safe. He knows his Appa would have loved him. Knows his Appa is dead.
The child smiles again and starts humming a tune.
Rumi’s eyes go wide. She knows that song. It’s the very same one Jinu once hummed to her. The old Korean folk song he used to play on his bipa. “Jiwon, where did you hear that song? ” she asks, her voice harsher than she intends it to be.
“Appa,” he repeats, his patterns shimmering for a brief moment. “Appa sings.”
Rumi watches her son carefully, her brows drawing together. “Where?” she finally asks, her hands on her hips.
“When I sleep,” he tells her.
“In your dreams?”
“Uh huh,” he replies with a nod.
“How often?”
“Always,” he says with a shrug, then pushes up off the floor, heading towards his toys and effectively ending their conversation. His Hot Wheels far more interesting than this dead-end conversation with his Eomma.
Rumi holds herself with one arm while resting her elbow from the other on it, covering her mouth with her hand — her demon claws making a rare appearance. She closes her glowing eyes and focuses on breathing in and out. On her heart pounding in her chest. Thumping rapidly. The blood rushing to her head and roaring in her ears. A wave of unease overwhelming her.
Because she dreams of Jinu every night, too…and…suddenly she’s not so sure they’re just dreams.
-
“What are you saying?” Zoey asks.
Rumi takes a deep breath, running her patterned hands over the table. Feeling the grain of the wood beneath her fingers. Her claws catching at it.
She’s frowning.
Upset.
Disappointed.
In herself.
“I think Jinu is alive,” she tells her friends, looking up at them. Her eyes imploring. Glowing. Willing them to believe her.
“Because you dream about him,” Mira states, her voice blunt. Sceptical.
“Because he sings to Jiwon,” she tries to explain.
It sounds crazy, even to her.
“Wait, he sings to him?” Mira frowns. “Like…he speaks to him?”
Her friends exchange a look. Rumi knows exactly what they’re thinking.
“Are you sure it isn’t Gwi-ma?” Zoey asks, her voice small. Desperate not to offend.
“I’m sure,” Rumi confirms. Shakes her head, not sure how to explain. “Gwi-ma doesn’t…” She stops and licks her lips. Runs her teeth over her fangs – they feel so unfamiliar. Emerge so rarely. “He doesn’t sing. He whispers in your ear, reminding you of your deepest shame. Your very worst moments. Your failures…”
“Jiwon has no failures. No shame…” Bobby declares as he emerges from the kitchen, hoisting the child in question onto his shoulders. “He’s all innocence and joy, and—ow! Watch your claws little buddy,” he exclaims as the boy attempts to steady himself using Bobby’s head as an anchor.
“Exactly,” Rumi agrees, twisting round to look behind her. Smiling at her son. At Bobby. Her patterns fade as she goes on, “Gwi-ma has nothing to say to him. But Jinu?” She sucks in her breath, her heart beating rapidly. “I expect Jinu would have lots to say. Enough to talk to his son – to sing to him – every night.”
“So what are you going to do?” Mira asks.
“I’m going to save him,” Rumi declares matter-of-factly. “I’m going to bring Jinu home.”
Another look.
“How?” Zoey inquires, her voice an octave higher than usual.
“We’re going to create a tear in the Honmoon,” Rumi tells them decisively. “Just enough for me to get through.”
“To the demon realm?!” Zoey exclaims, her voice even higher still. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Yes,” Rumi, replies calmly. “And no. I haven’t lost my mind. Just the father of my child…” She trails off, and tilts her head, her eyes filling with tears. “The love of my life.”
“Is it even possible to break a Golden Honmoon?” Bobby asks amidst Jiwon’s giggles as he’s held upside down by his ankles.
“It has to be,” Rumi says with conviction. “I’ll find a way—”
“No,” interjects Mira, her face hard. Determined.
“No?” Rumi repeats, turning to look at her friend. Unable to believe what she’s hearing.
“No,” Zoey echoes, shaking her head.
Rumi sits back, feeling deflated. How can they say no? How can they not understand how important this is? To Jiwon…to her? If there’s any chance at all that Jinu is alive, she has to try—
“We will find a way,” Mira continues, interrupting Rumi’s thoughts.
She looks up, hopeful. “We?”
“Yes, we,” Zoey smiles slyly. “We’re coming with you,”
“You can’t possibly think we’d let you go down there alone, do you?” Mira asks, her eyebrows high.
“I didn’t think—”
“We’re strongest when we’re together,” Zoey reminds her, taking Rumi’s and Mira’s hands in her own and giving them both a squeeze.
“But it’ll be dangerous—” Rumi begins to say.
“It’ll be fun,” Mira interrupts again, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.
-
Bobby lets slip rumours of a Huntrix breakup. Nothing so crazy that it can’t be backpedaled and denied, but plausible enough. They spread like wildfire, and the fans begin to doubt.
To lose faith.
The Honmoon begins to weaken, and within a few days the Hunters detect its first tear.
It’s time.
-
“So where exactly are we going?” Zoey asks, holding on tightly to Rumi with one hand, nervously manipulating her Shin-kal in the other.
Rumi shrugs. “The other side,” she says simply.
“The other side?” Mira repeats, her voice doubtful. “That’s as close as you can get to where we’re going?”
“What do you want me to say?” Rumi exclaims. “I’ve never been to the demon realm before. Whenever I’ve transported myself it’s been between places I already know…” She trails off, looking at her friends, her eyes wide. Beseeching them. Hoping they’ll have enough faith to follow her through the tear.
She’ll go without them, of course.
Nothing could stop her.
But she’d rather have them by her side.
“Of course,” Zoey nods, with a wave of her hand. “Of course you don’t know what’s on the other side. How could you?” She looks squarely at Rumi, then Mira, then back again. “Just…think real hard where you want to go.”
“Where does she want to go?” Mira asks, stopping abruptly and looking at Rumi. “Where do you want to go?”
“To Jinu,” Rumi replies confidently. “Wherever he is…”
-
They appear in a puff of red smoke.
Rumi holds on tightly to her friends’ wrists, taking in her surroundings, ready to transport them back in an instant.
It’s dark. The atmosphere filled with thick grey clouds, making it impossible to see the sky. Lightning flashes, illuminating the clouds from within and flooding the demon realm momentarily with light.
They’re standing in the midst of a large, flat, rocky plain. The earth beneath them dry and barren. Cracked. Parched.
Lifeless.
The beaten earth interrupted only by jagged rock formations. Towering spires and arches. Mesas and buttes.
Rumi squints. Examining the latter. Discerning…something at the flat tops of them. Pillars. Structures. Demon -made structures. And among them…flames. Curling and reaching up, licking at the sky. Atop the largest mesa, a long and wide purple flame burns intensely.
Angrily, if a flame could feel anger.
And this one does.
Without a doubt.
This is Gwi-ma. She knows it.
Feels it.
She bites her lips and releases her friend’s hands. Takes a deep breath. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks.
“There’s no way we’re leaving you,” Mira assures her.
“None whatsoever,” Zoey adds.
“Okay, then,” Rumi nods, pulling out her Sain-geom — its blue glow illuminating her face. Mira extends her Gok-do and Zoey unfolds her Shin-kal blades.
They’re ready.
Or, as ready as they can be, carefully making their way towards the largest mesa. Towards Gwi-ma. They’re attentive. Alert. And…maybe a little disconcerted? There’s nothing there. No demons. No life. Nothing. Just fire and brimstone.
They exchange nervous glances and keep moving forward – and though Rumi counts her steps, they never appear to get any closer to the mesas and structures before them. It must be an illusion. They must be farther than they think.
“It makes sense, I guess?” Zoey says apropos of nothing. “That a tear wouldn’t necessarily appear too close to…to whatever that is?” She waves her hand vaguely towards the structures and flames. “Do demons have houses?” she adds.
“I…I don’t know,” Rumi shrugs. She had so little time with Jinu. She never thought to ask what the demon realm was like. Had focused only on getting him out of it.
“Who cares?” Mira retorts.
“I mean…maybe we do?” Zoey replies sheepishly. “If we’re going to seal the Honmoon and trap them here again…” Rumi can’t help appreciating her friend’s big heart. Her curiosity. Her sudden concern for demons, now she’s faced with their reality.
“Demons deserve this,” Mira replies, her voice firm. “They’re evil. They should be trapped here…Except Jinu, of course,” she adds as an afterthought, looking at Rumi, her eyes wide and apologetic.
Rumi dips her chin in acknowledgment, her brows knitting in concern.
Here.
Where are they, anyway?
Where are the demons?
Where’s Jinu?
She stops and puts her sword away, shaking her head. “Something’s not right,” she says. “Something’s missing.”
“Yeah, the demons,” Mira deadpans.
“I don’t understand,” Rumi continues, her patterns shimmering. She flexes her hands at her sides as they temporarily become clawed and then return to normal. “If only we could ask for help…”
“Demons don’t strike me as particularly helpful,” Zoey grimaces.
She’s right of course. Most demons aren’t.
Which is to say, some demons are.
The ground before them begins to smoulder and melt away. A large blue tiger emerges out of the hole, a permanent – almost gruesome – smile plastered on its face. It’s eyes wide and staring.
“What the actual f—” Mira starts, but jumps back as a three-eyed magpie in a hat flies out of the hole before it closes and the ground resolidifies. It lands on the tiger’s head and caws at them. She and Zoey stand at the ready with their weapons, their eyes opening wide as Rumi smiles and gets down on her knees to pet the tiger.
“I’ve been wondering where you were,” Rumi whispers, as the large cat nuzzles its face into her neck.
“You know these demons?” Mira exclaims. Hesitating to lower her Gok-do.
“Are they demons?” Zoey asks, putting away her Shin-kal and running a hand tentatively over the soft fur of the tiger’s back.
“They’re Jinu’s,” Rumi replies, looking up at her friends, her eyes wet. “It means he’s here,” she concludes. “Alive.” She turns and looks back at the tiger, stroking its face. “Doesn’t it?” she can’t help asking. The magpie on its head lets out a harsh call and blinks its eyes meaningfully.
In the affirmative.
Rumi knows it.
Her heart skips a beat. She takes a deep – stuttering – breath and stands up. “Take me to him?” she asks Jinu’s familiars. The tiger dips its head – causing the bird’s wings to flap to keep its place – and turns, leading the way. It’s body moving lithely. Picking its way carefully over the dry terrain.
The hunters exchange looks, pull out their weapons again, and follow.
-
“You don’t belong here.”
“Go back to where you belong.”
“You’re all going to die.”
They find the demons.
But their threats and jeers don’t deter them. Rumi, Mira and Zoey move with determination and purpose. They cut down and destroy the demons. The evidence splattered across their clothes and faces.
They’re not playing games.
They’re on a mission and will not be deterred.
-
The crowd of supplicants parts ways, forming an aisle through which the Hunters – preceded by the tiger and bird – approach the largest mesa. A staircase is carved into its front, going up, up, up to the purple flames burning brightly between a series of broken pillars. The conflagration is made up of a multitude of layers. Shades of violet, mauve and lavender.
Rumi can feel the heat emanating from it.
The roiling fury.
The gaping maw of Gwi-ma opens and closes at their approach. As if he were laughing or…chewing.
“You think you can defeat me? In my own realm?” Gwi-ma finally speaks as the Hunters stop at the bottom of the roughly-hewn stairs, looking up. His tone mocking.
“We’re not here to fight,” Rumi declares, her voice calmer – steadier – than she ever thought it could be, given the circumstances.
Gwi-ma laughs viciously. “And yet you’ve killed how many of my people during your approach?”
“If we’re attacked…” Zoey starts.
“...We will defend ourselves,” Mira finishes.
Rumi puts a hand out to quiet them. Sheaths her sword and looks up at Gwi-ma. “We aren’t here for them,” she says. “Or you.” She speaks quietly, but her voice resonates. Her demon voice.
“No,” he agrees, rolling his flaming jaws. Rolling something within them. He smiles cruelly. “You’re here for the traitor.”
“I’m here for what’s mine,” she corrects him, standing taller. Lifting her chin in defiance.
“Yours,” Gwi-ma chortles, flexing his fiery jaws. “Yours? He’s mine. He belongs to me.”
“No,” Rumi shakes her head. “He doesn’t. Not anymore, and you know it.”
The flames at the top of the mesa burn brighter. Growing larger as its blazing jaws move up and down. Slowly, a shape emerges from within their depths. From between their blazing masticating teeth.
Rumi’s heart misses a beat as she realises it’s Jinu. That Gwi-ma is – has been – chewing on him for…all this time? Her breath catches as she watches the flames push him to the front of its mouth. As they spit him out, tumbling – rolling – down the long stone stairs, until he lands on the ground at Rumi’s feet with a grunt and a thump.
She falls to her knees beside him, unsure what to do. Where to touch him – he’s a burning, blistering mass of chewed up flesh. “Jinu?” she whispers, tentatively pushing his fringe back. Careful as it sticks to his damaged skin. He attempts to drag in a breath and only manages a low moan of pain in response.
“You failed him,” Gwi-ma tells her. “Abandoned him when he needed you most.”
“I didn’t know,” Rumi sobs. “I thought he was dead…”
Gwi-ma laughs. “It was easier to think he was dead. Easier to go on with your life, leaving him here to be punished. To suffer.”
“No,” she insists. Louder. “I never would have left him had I known…”
“Rumi?” Zoey places a tentative hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Who are you talking to?”
Rumi looks up at her friend, her breath catching as she realises Gwi-ma isn’t speaking out loud. That he’s whispering to her. That only she can hear him. That he’s using her fear against her.
Her deepest shame.
“No, no, no, no,” she cries out, pawing at her ear. “I love him.” She wraps her arms around Jinu’s torso, pulling his prone body onto her lap. “I would never do anything to cause him pain,” she says, then bites her lips, looking down at him.
He looks broken.
Her beautiful demon.
Tears fall onto his patterned skin. His glowing eyes flutter open for just a moment. His lips part, his fangs just visible within. “I’m so sorry,” Rumi cries, hugging him closer.
“Being sorry won’t help,” Gwi-ma growls. “He’s nothing but an empty shell, now, anyway. You can have him.”
Rumi looks up abruptly, her eyes narrowing.
“You heard me,” Gwi-ma laughs meanly. “He’s nothing now. Soulless. If you think you can fix him? If you think he’ll ever forgive you? Take him.”
“He’s just trying to get under your skin,” Mira tells her. Her voice is shaking, though. As if she’s trying to convince them all, as she doubtfully looks at Jinu. Surely remembering Rumi’s words – that he’d given his soul to her. That maybe Gwi-ma isn’t lying when he says Jinu is soulless now. Empty.
And if he isn’t…then who are they rescuing?
What are they bringing back with them?
“If he says you can have him, let’s just take him and get out of here,” Zoey says hurriedly, watching warily as the demons around them begin to close in.
Rumi nods. “Hold on to me,” she tells her friends, preparing to transport them back to their world. The human realm.
“He’ll never forgive you,” Gwi-ma whispers to her. Sowing doubt. Making her hesitate, because…because she did abandon Jinu. Not on purpose, of course. Not knowingly. But she did. She looks down at her demon to find him looking right back up at her. His golden eyes glowing brightly. He reaches up – it seems an immense effort – and takes hold of her arm, squeezing it. Just a bit. His claws pushing into the soft skin of her inner forearm.
They hold each other’s gaze as Gwi-ma’s flames flare higher and he laughs at them.
At her.
“You left him.”
“Abandoned him.”
“Failed him.”
“He’s empty.”
“He’ll never forgive you.”
“It’s your fault.”
“Rumi?” Mira cuts through the sound of Gwi-ma’s voice in her head. “We have to go. Now! ”
“Now, Rumi!” Zoey echoes.
Rumi nods again. More definitively. Her friends are right. They need to leave. They need to return to the human realm. Go back home. Now . Where she can try to save Jinu. Repair the damage she’s done. She holds on to him with one arm and reaches for her friends. Hears Gwi-ma’s cruel laughter. His insidious whispers. Rumi squeezes her eyes shut tight. And then—
They’re gone in a puff of red smoke, the sound of Jinu’s magpie’s caws echoing in Rumi’s ears.
-
Rumi doesn’t tell Jiwon who their guest is. She instructs the child to leave him be. To keep it down when playing or watching TV. That he needs peace and quiet to heal.
She’s almost certain he knows who it is, though.
Saw the flash of recognition in her son’s eyes when they appeared in the apartment, and the red smoke dissipated. As they dragged Jinu’s near lifeless form to her room.
To her bed.
She almost never leaves its side – his side – but to spend time with Jiwon, to fight demons, or to perform now that the Honmoon needs rebuilding.
She talks to him constantly. Tells him everything that happened after the concert and the Saja Boys’ mysterious disappearance. The uproar. The confusion. The speculation. She tells him how Huntrix achieved the Golden Honmoon. How freeing it felt, despite the fact her patterns never disappeared. How she’s actually grown to appreciate her patterns. To consider them a part of who she is.
A gift from her father…and a reminder of him.
Every night she crawls into her bed and lies next to him. She claims it’s so she can provide assistance – Jinu can’t talk, after all. Can barely move. He’s so weak. His injuries so numerous. But really, she wants to be close to him. Doesn’t want to spend one moment away from him, if she doesn’t have to.
In those quiet moments alone, lying on her side, she whispers to him before she falls asleep. Tells him she thought of him – missed him – every single day. Dreamt of him every single night. Cried over him. Touched herself thinking only of him.
As his body heals she moves closer. Lays her head on his chest and listens to his heartbeat. Feels it grow stronger. Feels the steady rise and fall of his breaths. She tells him about her pregnancy, and their son’s birth. Tells him about Jiwon. How every time she looks at their son, she sees Jinu’s eyes. His face. His fanged grin in miniature.
Jiwon himself comes to visit, climbing gently up onto the bed and sitting next to his father – his Appa – humming the very same tunes he heard him sing in his dreams. He looks at Rumi, his eyes large and glassy. “Will Appa ever wake up?” he asks, his voice quiet. Almost a whisper. His little patterned hand stroking Jinu’s larger patterned hand absentmindedly.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Rumi replies. “But I pray every day, and every night, that he will.” She looks at Jinu’s face with longing. Wishing – willing – for his eyes to open. For him to see his son. She shakes her head. “He’s been through a lot,” she tells Jiwon. “He needs time to rest. To heal.”
“Is that why he doesn’t sing to me anymore?”
Rumi feels her heart breaking – she doesn’t dream of him anymore, either. “Visiting us in his dreams was how Appa held on,” she tells him. “How he survived. Now he’s here with us, he’s safe. His only job is to grow strong so he can come back to us for good.”
The little boy clenches his jaw – puts on a brave face – and dips his chin as if he understands.
Deep down, though, she’s worried. Gwi-ma’s voice echoes through her mind. His taunting. His laughter.
How he called Jinu an empty shell.
And as she looks at Jinu’s sleeping form she can’t help wondering if maybe he was right. If maybe this is all that’s left of him.
-
Rumi sleeps fitfully. Dreaming of a future in which Jinu never wakes. In which the Honmoon is never sealed. In which demons run rampant, and in which Jiwon…joins them.
She wakes up with a start, covered in a cold sweat. Sits up, breathing deeply. Attempting to calm herself. To remind herself it was just a dream. That none of it was real. She places her hand on her chest, feeling her thumping heart. Waiting for it — and her breaths — to slow. She turns to check on Jinu and gasps.
His eyes are open.
Glowing.
Golden.
“Jinu?” she breathes, shifting her position so she’s facing him.
His pupils dilate. His eyes trace her form from top to bottom. His brows pull together into a frown. He turns in one swift motion. Pivoting on top of her. Pushing her back against the bed so he’s straddling her. Grasping her upper arms in his clawed hands. Holding – pinning – her in place as he examines her with eyes that show no sign of recognition.
They’re empty.
Wild.
Feral.
“Jinu,” she repeats, her voice gentle. “It’s me…Rumi…” She attempts to free herself. Squirms under him. He starts. Releases her and moves back. Sitting on his feet, still straddling her legs. She pushes herself up and reaches for him. Tentatively sweeping his fringe back off his forehead. “Do you know who I am?” she whispers.
Desperate.
Hopeful.
He watches her movements carefully. Mirrors them by reaching up to caress her cheek with his knuckles. Turns his hand and gently grazes his claws along her jawline and into her hair. Grasps the back of her head. Takes a fistful of her braid and pulls her to him roughly, his mouth crashing into hers – all teeth and fangs. He’s breathing deeply. Panting. His claws dig into her scalp. His lips harsh against her own. His tongue forcing its way in.
Rumi meets him with equal fervour. Wraps her arms around Jinu’s neck, clutching on to him tightly. Her fingers slide up the back of his neck and into his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it as she opens her mouth to him and moans.
His fang catches her lip, drawing blood.
He backs away. His gleaming eyes never once leaving her face as his tongue slowly slides across his lips, licking the blood off them.
“Jinu?”
He cocks his head at the sound of his name, but doesn’t respond. His chest rises and falls rapidly with each hurried breath. He reaches for the hem of her nightshirt and slips his hand underneath. Trails his claws along her stomach – making her gasp – searching for the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. He hooks his fingers into them and looks up at her, finally speaking.
He gives Rumi a single instruction.
“Lift.”
The sound of Jinu’s voice is enough to make her cry. She would do anything for him. Allow him to do anything to her. Demon. Human. Evil. Good. It doesn’t matter. She loves him. Wants him. And despite the fact he’s being so out of character. So brusque. So unfeeling. She doesn’t care.
It’s him.
She’ll take whatever she can get.
Rumi nods and braces herself against the bed. Lifts her hips, allowing him to pull her pyjamas down. Once she’s lowered herself, he shimmies back. Pulls her bottoms all the way off, and tosses them aside. When he looks back up at her his gaze is positively savage. Glowing brightly. Intently.
Lustfully.
He pushes her legs apart. Trails his claws up her inner thighs, then back down again. Grasps them tightly at her knees – puncturing her skin – then leans down, his head between her thighs, and drags his tongue through her folds. Rumi gasps. Swears she hears Jinu growl as his tongue circles her clit, then covers it with his mouth and sucks.
“O mai gat,” she moans, pushing her hips up to meet his face. The intensity of her need for him overwhelming.
He slides his fingers along the sensitive skin in the crease of her groin, his claws tickling. He’s being careful. Gentle. Traces along her arse cheek to her slit. Pauses only to comment, “ So wet,” before proceeding to delicately insinuate a single taloned finger inside her cunt. Rumi feels its tip penetrate her. Holds her breath as it slides deeper. Only releases it – only relaxes – when he slowly starts pumping it back and forth. She can feel the claw inside her, scraping, but not hurting. Rather, it seems to heighten everything she’s feeling – including the way he’s started using the flat of his tongue against her clit to add more pressure to it. More friction.
She feels an intense throbbing. A building crescendo. The combination of Jinu’s tongue on her clit and his finger in her cunt feels so good. Too good. Rumi reaches down. Grabs his hair in her fists and pulls his face against her, moaning with pleasure as he drags his tongue over her. Feels her muscles begin to spasm around his finger, gasping, thrusting her hips up. “Ohhh…” she breathes, her whole body shaking as she comes on his face. Sighs in contentment and lets her legs fall to either side of him. Caresses his scalp as he extricates his finger and looks up over her pelvis. Still licking between her legs. Lapping up her desire. Sucking on her swollen lips. Teasing her clit. Their eyes meet – his still burning with passion. Glowing intensely.
He pushes himself back up to a kneeling position. Slowly licks his lips. Sucks his teeth. His eyes never leave her. His brow is furrowed, though. As if he’s not entirely sure where he is. Who Rumi is. Who he is.
None of it matters.
Not when he rubs his length through his joggers. Pulls them – and his pants – down his thighs and his erection springs free. Purple and patterned. A bead of pearlescent precum emerging from his cock’s tip.
“What do you want, Jinu?” she asks. Her voice is low. Husky. Already willing to give – do – anything he wants.
He strokes himself. Seems to consider his options. Narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw. Reaches down and grasps Rumi by the hip, flipping her over roughly. Taking her rump in both hands and pulling her up to her knees so she’s kneeling in front of him. On all fours. He slides two fingers over her cunt – through her slick – before tracing the same path with his cock. Coating it in her desire.
“Oh, Jinu,” she moans, lowering her head down onto her forearms, leaving her arse in the air. Her whole body trembling with desire. Waiting. Anticipating. She can feel her arousal leaking out of her. “Please,” she whispers as she feels his tip against her. A slight resistance as he pushes – forces – himself in. Her cunt stretches to accommodate him. “Nnnggghhh,” she mewls. It feels so good to be filled up. To feel Jinu’s cock slide into her. His pelvis against her rump as she pushes back against him, plunging him deeper.
He groans from behind her. His hands unforgivingly grasping her hips. His fingers bruising. His claws piercing. He begins moving, thrusting in and out of her. Slowly at first. Feeling, relishing, every inch as it caresses – and is caressed by – her inner walls. He gasps. Breathes deeply. Pants. Jinu releases her hips and slides one hand up her side, while taking her braid in the other, wrapping it around his fist and pulling back on it. Hard. Rumi gasps in surprise, but allows him to guide her up into a kneeling position just in front of him. He reaches around her waist and finds her clit. Rubs it in time with his thrusts. Still holding on to her braid, he pulls her head to the side, exposing her neck. Buries his face in it, dragging his tongue over her skin. Grazing it with his fangs.
Rumi reaches behind herself, over her shoulders, grasping at Jinu’s hair. Twists around to look at him, whispering, “I missed you so much…” Gasps, adding, “I love you so much…”
His hips stop thrusting.
“You…love me?” Jinu chokes out. His voice filled with doubt.
His hand slides back over her pelvis, stopping at her hip.
“I do,” Rumi nods, pulling his face towards hers. Kissing him on the lips, whispering into his mouth, “I love you…”
He lets her braid fall from his grasp. His breath catches. His eyes grow wide, looking down over her shoulder.
Her chest is glowing.
Faintly at first. And then, as she caresses his cheek and pulls his mouth back to hers, kissing him again, repeating, “I love you, I love you, I love,” the glow grows. It grows so large, it can no longer be contained. It exits Rumi—
A glowing wisp of blue-white light — of Jinu’s soul that he’d bestowed upon her for safekeeping. It swirls around them before finally settling upon, and entering, his chest, then fading.
He gasps.
The distance that had been in his eyes, his indifferent expression, the hard set of his jaw, melts away. Leaving only tenderness.
Affection.
Love.
“I love you, too,” he breathes. Hesitates. “I want…need…”
“What do you want, Jinu?” she repeats.
“You,” he replies, gently pulling out of her, his patterns shimmering until he’s mostly human, save for the purple streaks across his skin. His hands tenderly glide over her thighs, her hips, her sides. He turns her around so she’s facing him. Brushes her lips with his own. Carefully lowers her down to the bed and straddles her. Kisses her mouth. Her forehead. Her nose. Nips at her chin – his fangs still there – and then down her neck. He pulls the collar of her nightshirt aside and kisses her shoulder. Sits back on his heels. “Take this off,” he says, lifting her shirt, and helping get it over her head, before leaning back over and taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking. Tracing circles around it with his tongue.
“I adore you,” he tells her, kissing the space between her breasts. “Thank you,” he adds, before kissing and sucking on the other nipple.
“For what?” Rumi asks, running her fingers through his hair. Her back arching towards him.
“For saving me,” he replies, looking up at her, his fringe falling into his eyes, his thumb tracing little circles over her hip.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn’t realise—”
“How could you?” he interrupts. “The important thing,” he goes on, kissing down her stomach and breathing over her belly button, making her squirm, “is that you came as soon as you did…” He kisses the space just above her curls. Her hip bone. He slides his hand under her thigh and lifts it, kissing the sensitive skin on its inside. “You created a tear in the Honmoon,,” he says, looking up at her, his brows creasing. “Came to the demon realm.” He shakes his head. “For me… ”
“I would do anything for you,” she tells him.
Admits to him.
Because he’s her weakness.
He smiles and Rumi almost melts. Can’t help noticing it’s slightly crooked. Can’t help but smile back. She reaches down between her legs and slides her hand along his jawline. Cups his head behind his ear and tugs gently. Insisting he come closer. Insisting he kiss her again.
She’s desperate to kiss him again. To feel his soft lips. His tongue pushing into her mouth. His fangs.
He crawls up over her body and leans down, his back curving. He kisses her deeply, his tongue pushing into her mouth. She wraps her legs around him, pulling him down on top of her. He collapses and laughs – the sound of it like music to Rumi’s ears. He props himself back up on his elbow and tosses his head, getting his fringe out of his eyes. Reaches between them and rubs his cock between her legs. Lines himself up, then stops. “Can I?” he asks, as if he hadn’t already fucked her mere moments ago.
But, looking into his eyes, Rumi realises he doesn’t want to do that now. Now he’s got his soul back, he doesn’t just want to fuck her.
He wants to make love to her.
“Yes,” she tells him. “Aboslutely,” she adds for good measure, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. Pulling down on his arse with her feet, still hooked around his waist. He adjusts himself – redistributing his weight – and lowers his hips, pushing into her, sheathing his cock in her cunt. The feel of it sliding into her fills Rumi up both physically and emotionally.
She’s so wet. So ready. So willing. So desperate to be close to him. So thankful to have him here in her arms. Truly here. Truly present. Her Jinu. The one she fell in love with – and not just a shell of him.
They both groan.
Jinu gives her a lazy smile before kissing her lips. Her jawline. Her neck. His hips roll rhythmically on top of her. His pelvis grinds against her, ensuring her clit is stimulated. She gasps and bites his shoulder. His skin darkens, turning a shade of purple. He looks at her, his eyes glowing. Keeps his weight on his elbows and caresses her cheek with his claws. “I’ll never leave you again,” he assures her, his hips speeding up. Snapping rapidly up and down. He kisses her – half missing her mouth – and his body goes tense. He grunts and climaxes. Whispers, “I’ll never stop loving you,” into her neck as he pulls out and rolls onto his side. Replaces his cock with his hand. Uses the pads of his clawed fingers to rub her clit until she’s shaking. Panting.
His patterns shimmer and fade as he carefully slides two fingers into her, pumping them back and forth. “Nnngghhh…” she turns into him, moaning into his neck, clutching his hair, and arching her back towards him. Wanting to feel his hot skin against her. Wrapping a patterned leg around his hip and pulling him closer. Scratching his jawline with her claws. “And I’ll never stop loving you,” she sighs into his mouth, leaning her forehead against his.
“Gwi-ma himself couldn’t stop me,” he tells her. Caressing her cheek. Massaging her side. Trailing his hand down her thigh to her calf and back up again.
She closes her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hands upon her. Slightly calloused. Warm. Loving.
It’s true, she realises.
Even without his soul, trapped in Gwi-ma’s terrible, fiery jaws, Jinu had still managed to find her. To find his son…and to love them the only way he could.
In their dreams.
-
Rumi closes the door to her bedroom, careful not to make any noise, hoping to let Jinu sleep. She turns and finds she has an audience, watching her curiously.
“Eomma?”
She looks down at her little demon and smiles. Grins.
“Appa woke up?”
“How did you know?” she asks.
He gives a little shrug and comes to take her hand. “He singed to me again,” he says simply, then frowns. “Appa’s sleeping?”
“Yes—”
“Again?!” the child exclaims, his eyes wide in disbelief.
Rumi can’t help but agree. She can’t help smiling, either. She squeezes Jiwon’s hand and starts them towards the kitchen. “Sometimes, when you’ve been hurt, just being awake for a little while can make you tired,” she explains. “Now, why don’t we go have some breakfast?”
The boy nods, lets go of her hand and runs ahead. Humming.
“Something tells me he did a little more than sing last night,” Mira comments as she makes her way down the hallway, yawning.
Rumi turns, looking at her friend over her shoulder, her grin getting wider. Mischievous. Wicked. “Maybe,” she concedes, unable to remember a time she felt happier.
-
They’re incredible together.
Jinu and Jiwon.
Father and son.
-
Later…
She can’t wait to get home.
Rumi loves Huntrix. She loves performing. She loves the fans. She loves Bobby like a brother, and Mira and Zoey like sisters.
But nothing – nothing – compares to her family.
They’ve bought a house outside the city where it’s more private. Where they have the freedom to just be . Demon, human, or anything in between.
Jinu practices daily with Jiwon — teaching him how to control his patterns. To glamour himself to look human. And, most importantly, to maintain his glamour which has a tendency to slip and shimmer away anytime the boy laughs or gets overly excited. When he loses his concentration.
He’s making progress, though.
So is Jinu.
He’s adapting to living in the human world. To Gwi-ma no longer whispering in his ear. Learning how to forgive himself and shed the shame he’s carried with him for so long. To enjoy himself. His life. His son. His love.
The house is quiet. Dark.
Rumi drops her bags by the door and makes her way towards the back of the house where she sees a glow emanating from the kitchen. It’s empty. The light on top of the stove illuminating a plate wrapped in foil.
Leftovers.
For her.
She smiles and heads over to investigate. Stops. Tilts her head as she hears it. A bipa strumming. And then…
Jinu’s voice.
A shriek of delight from Jiwon.
And…a bird cackling?
Rumi screws up her face in confusion and abandons the food. Turns towards the glass doors at the back of the kitchen, slides one open and steps out into the backyard.
“Eomma!” Jiwon calls, dropping a rather large and unwieldy butterfly net, before running towards her. Jinu’s magpie – named Sussie for reasons known only to the boy – flies away and perches on a high branch, cawing. Jiwon, meanwhile, crashes into Rumi’s legs, hugging them – hugging her. “I missed you,” he exclaims into her thigh, before launching himself off her and immediately tackling Derpy – another inexplicable name given to the tiger – and rolling with it through the grass.
Rumi watches her son with fondness for a moment before turning to Jinu. He’s seated on a bench by the fire pit, his demon eyes reflecting the flames, his bipa in his lap. “It went well?” he asks, his long fingers still strumming the instrument absentmindedly.
“Yes. Better than well. Fantastic,” Rumi replies. She walks over to him, sliding her hand along his shoulder as she bends over and kisses him. Hovers over his lips as he runs his hand up her thigh, before adding, “But I’m glad it’s over…relieved to be home.”
“Hmm,” he replies, moving over and making room for her on the bench. She’s well aware he knows how much she loves to perform. How exhilarating it is to see and strengthen the Honmoon. What a high she gets from it.
Rumi sits down and leans her head on his shoulder. “What were you playing?”
“Nothing, really,” he replies, his eyes tracking Jiwon and his feline playmate. “Mostly just strumming and making lyrics up…”
“You’re good at that,” Rumi sighs, gliding her hand up his arm. “Bobby thinks you could have a career in music.”
Jinu looks down at her, his expression incredulous. “Because we know how well that went the last time.”
She lifts her head and looks at him. “Not like that. Obviously.” She shakes her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “He thinks you could write children’s music…you’re so good with Jiwon.”
At the mention of his name the boy pauses. Perks up. Looks over his shoulder, waiting to determine if he’s being addressed or not. When neither his Appa or Eomma ask anything of him, he climbs back onto the tiger’s back, giving it a great big bear hug.
“Maybe,” Jinu replies, setting his bipa down. “One day.”
Rumi takes his hand in hers now it’s free and laces their fingers together. His demon. Hers, human. “One day,” she repeats, leaning her head back on his shoulder with a contented sigh.
One day.
There’s no rush.
They have their whole lives to figure it out.