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The bathroom at Cathy's apartment was barely larger than a closet, yet somehow she had squeezed Jeremy in alongside her, his tall frame making the space feel impossibly cramped. He stood shirtless in front of the mirror, examining his reflection with the focused intensity usually reserved for strategic warfare.

"I require a disguise," he announced. "Your family will recognize demonic nature if I do not present as adequately human."

Cathy took a steadying breath, trying not to notice the way the bathroom light caught the sharp lines of his collarbone. Focus on the practical. Focus on the spell. Focus on absolutely anything except the fact that she was seeing a Demon Prince half-naked in her bathroom.

"A glamour should work," she said, opening her spell book to the section on illusions. "It will not change what you actually are, but it will make you appear like a warlock. Specifically, a wealthy, respectable warlock."

"Then proceed," Jeremy said, turning to face her fully. "Use whatever magic you require."

Cathy began to gather the components for the spell. A mirror for reflection, some salt for grounding, a strand of Jeremy's black hair for targeting, and then she realized her hands were shaking. Her magic was still depleted from the botched summoning, and she had used a significant amount to sign the contract. The gold pulse in her palms was barely more than a flicker.

"I am not strong enough," she admitted quietly. "The spell requires more magic than I have right now. It would need to be a significant working to make you convincingly pass as human to people who understand magic."

Jeremy was silent for a moment. Then he held out his hand, palm up. "Take what you need."

"What?" Cathy looked at the extended hand warily.

"The contract allows me to sustain you magically," Jeremy said impatiently. "It is part of maintaining appearances. Your aunt would question why you are exhausted and drained if you are engaged to someone who should be providing support. Take my magic. Just enough to finish the glamour."

Cathy hesitated, then reached out and took his hand. The moment her skin made contact with his, the difference was stark. His hand felt warm, too warm, and underneath the warmth was an absolute reservoir of power.

"Take what you need," he said again, softer this time.

She drew carefully, but the moment his magic touched hers, she understood the danger. It did not just replenish her. It sang through her veins like the richest wine, the sweetest drug. Her magic had always felt like warm candlelight. His felt like standing in the heart of a star.

A soft sound escaped her throat, pleasure and surprise tangled together. Jeremy's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening.

"Careful," he warned, his voice strained. "The more you take, the more you will want. And feeding from me creates complications."

But she could not stop. Just a little more. Just enough to feel whole again. Her fingers tightened on his, and she drew deeper, feeling his power flood through her like liquid heat. It pooled in her chest, her stomach, spreading through her limbs until she felt drunk with it.

Jeremy's other hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. "Enough," he commanded, his voice rough as gravel. "Any more and you will bind yourself to me in ways the contract does not cover."

He pulled away sharply, and the loss of connection left her gasping, actually aching from the absence. She swayed on her feet, and he caught her elbow, steadying her.

"You see now," he said quietly, and there was something almost like regret in his expression, "why demons consume their mates. Because once you have tasted power like this," his thumb traced the inside of her wrist, over her racing pulse, "nothing else will ever satisfy you again."

Cathy focused on the spell, pouring her now-replenished magic into the working. She spoke the incantation in a low voice, weaving the magic around Jeremy like golden thread. She felt the demonic energy beneath the glamour, vast and hungry and barely restrained, but layer by layer, the illusion took hold. The bathroom seemed to flicker. For just a moment, she saw both versions of him overlaid: the terrifying creature of shadow and appetite, and the human mask she crafted. When the glamour finally settled, Cathy caught her breath.

Jeremy was devastatingly, impossibly handsome. The glamour had softened none of his dangerous edges, merely reframed them as human attraction instead of demonic menace. He had sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, a jaw that looked carved from marble, and eyes that appeared a very pale silver instead of entirely black. His hair remained black as midnight, and the contrast between the dark hair and pale eyes created an almost hypnotic effect.

"Is it sufficient?" Jeremy asked, turning back to the mirror to examine his own reflection.

"It is..." Cathy struggled for words. "Yes. You look like a warlock. A very attractive warlock. An intimidating, wealthy warlock whom my extended family will probably be secretly impressed by."

"Good," Jeremy said. He turned back to her. She saw the moment he noticed the way she looked at him. Something shifted in his expression, making the bathroom feel even smaller. "Now, we need to discuss the nature of our engagement narrative."

"Right," Cathy said, stepping back slightly. "We should have a story. How we met. How long we have been together. Something that will hold up to scrutiny."

"At the manor," Cathy said, "Turnip needs to be your mute familiar. Just an opossum. No talking."

Turnip bristled from under the couch. "Absolutely not. I have opinions about fashion and demonic etiquette."

"Those opinions will get us killed," Cathy said flatly.

Jeremy glanced at the opossum. "Can he be silenced magically?"

"I can stay quiet on my own," Turnip huffed. "I am a professional. Sort of."

"He cannot," Cathy said at the same time.

Jeremy produced a small crystal. "Glamour silencing charm. He can remove it if he chooses, but it will look natural to observers."

Turnip eyed the crystal with deep suspicion.

"We can work on the details during the journey to your aunt's estate," Jeremy said. He picked up his shirt and began to button it with deliberate slowness, each motion controlled. "For now, understand this: when we arrive at your family gathering, you will introduce me as your fiancé. You will touch me frequently, look at me as though I am the center of your world, and reinforce the narrative that I am both powerful and devoted to you."

"That does not sound fake at all," Cathy said dryly.

Jeremy smiled, and it was every bit as dangerous as his black-eyed version. "No. It will be very convincing precisely because it will contain an element of truth. You are drawn to me. That hunger I feel radiating from you, little witch, makes the performance far more authentic. Your family will not doubt an engagement that is written across your face."

"I am not drawn to you," Cathy lied. "I am frightened of you. There is a difference."

"Fear and desire live in the same part of the nervous system," Jeremy said, brushing past her in the cramped bathroom. His shoulder grazed hers, and she felt that same spark of connection she had experienced while signing the contract. "Your body knows the truth even if your mind has not caught up yet."

Jeremy stepped out of the bathroom, his glamour settled perfectly around him like a second skin. Cathy remained at the mirror, trying to steady her breathing.

Then she felt it, the phantom sensation of his hand still on her hip, even though he had left the room. The bond. She could feel the pull of it, tugging at something deep inside her, demanding she follow him.

When she emerged, she found him standing at the window, his back to her. But his voice carried clearly through the apartment: "The contract is adapting faster than I expected. Can you feel it, little witch? That pull between us?"

She could. God help her, she could.

"By the time we reach your aunt's manor," Jeremy continued, still not turning, "that pull will be strong enough that being apart will cause physical discomfort. The magic wants us close. Wants us..." He finally looked back at her, and his glamoured silver eyes held a heat that made her stomach flip. "Well. I suppose we will discover exactly what it wants soon enough."

"We leave in two hours," he said. "I suggest you pack something pretty. Your family is going to be watching our every move, and I intend to give them a show worth remembering."