Qi Yu always woke a little after the sun had risen.
The very first joy of his day was sitting up and quietly savoring the sleeping face of the beloved Demon King beside him.
His husband, Malrik—the king of the demon race—had a remarkably handsome face.
His features were sharply defined, with deep yet elegant contours that felt just right, never too strong.
His skin was dusky, and his long black hair cascaded over a body as chiseled as a sculpture.
Watching him sleep was, in a word, beautiful.
No one had ever slept so vulnerably beside Qi Yu before.
After all, he had lived a life as an assassin—most who lay beside him were cold by the next morning.
That was always his doing, of course.
For someone like him, who had used even his body as a weapon, this warm presence beside him each morning was a rare and precious thing.
Malrik was the first person who had ever needed him.
The first to tell him, "I love you."
