As much as it hurts to tear away from this man—this demon—I have to. The sensations he causes inside me are so intense, I need to slip off and fix myself before anything else happens.
That kiss left me breathless, bewildered. Broken and totally unbalanced.
My heart is on fire. Thudding. Racing.
Heart palpitations aren't normal for me. I cause them in others, usually leading to sex...but I don't experience them.
This creature has provoked such things in me. It's frightening to go through something I normally witness and don't feel.
I don't want to feel it. It's unnatural to me.
I assume the only way to get rid of this problem—my arousal—is to get in bed with him.
So I fix my hair, adjust my bustier, pucker my lips. Be irresistible. I can't let him affect me without leaving him longing for me, too. He's playing a game I'm skilled at; I can't let him win it.
My undergarments are drenched with arousal, but I must hold it in. Draw him in, instead of hanging on his every word. He needs to hang on mine.
I'm intent on seducing him into my room by the time I exit the tavern's powder room. I must have him, but he must be the one to beg for it.
The things we could do, him and I.
A demon, his hunger insatiable; and an angel used to indulging in others' pleasure and desperate to have some for herself.
But as I enter the main room, scouring the chair and table where I'd left him, I see that I'm alone.
Other patrons have departed. The room is empty.
Az is no longer here.
This demon isn't of small build. He's massive, bulky. There's nothing for him to hide behind. And there are no other powder rooms or places for him to be lurking, except for the storage room, but that's where Henderson is. He wouldn't let a stranger in.
"He took off," says Henderson, coming from said storage room.
"What?" I again peer about, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks on me.
Where is he?
Hadn't we just exchanged a steamy kiss that meant more? Hadn't that expressed to him how badly I wanted him?
He wanted me too, I know it. I'm never mistaken on such things; it's my job to know when desire is in the air.
And it was, with us. So pungent it was suffocating. So intense it made me have to get up and go handle myself before I melted into his mouth.
But he left?
Henderson returns behind the bar-counter. "He snuck out seconds after you went beyond the curtain."
"But..." I fall into the nearest chair, arms dangling at my sides.
Something pinches in my heart; something akin to pain.
Pain?
I don't feel pain.
"I don't know what to tell you," Henderson says, shrugging. There's a genuine look of sorrow in his features. "He rushed out without turning back. Suspicious little shit. Well, big shit, seeing how huge he was—"
I jolt to my feet, cutting him off. "That's not possible."
A pang echoes through my heart. My center, which had been pulsating with need for him, is still. Dry. Hurting.
"I'm sorry, Dru. These things happen. Bad energy, that one." Henderson shakes his head. "Got a gross feeling from him the moment he stepped in. Like he owned the place." He snorts. "I own the place."
I ignore Henderson's rant
This isn't right. None of this is right.
I don't get pain. I'm familiar with it, because I inflict it on those who are deserving, deteriorating. But me? I'm not meant to experience the negative sensations pain can cause.
Headaches? Stomach-aches? Cramps? I don't get those.
And heartache?
"No," I whisper, fists clenched. My heart squeezes inside, as if sucking in oxygen to release it in the form of tears.
Tears? I don't cry. I never cry.
Wiping my eyes before they leak, I straighten up. Az abandoned me, but I shouldn't care. It shouldn't bother me. I'm not meant to enjoy sexual pleasure with someone like him.
And yet...
I'm flustered. Frustrated. No, I'm furious. My heart's fluttering is new, unexpected, and he left me to comprehend it on my own.
He left me, and I'm...
What is this feeling? Dread? Despair? Sadness? Fear? There are so many things running through me that I struggle to breathe and clutch at my chest, gasping.
Henderson dashes over to check on me, but I wave him off.
"I'm fine," I manage, fanning the heat from my face. "I have to go."
"If he hurt you," Henderson mutters as I reach the door, "I can have him taken care of."
I appreciate his concern, but I wince as I push the door open.
He's a demon. He will demolish you with a blink of his eye.
"That won't work," I say, but not loud enough for him to hear.
Outside, a brisk air caresses my cheeks, gently bringing me down from my panic attack.
Panic attack? I thought those were a myth. An exaggeration told by humans processing strong emotions.
But they're real, and they're not pleasant.
"Oh, for goddess' sake," I say, blowing out short breaths in spurts, to regulate my heartbeats.
But they don't quit. My heart keeps thumping, pressing into my ribcage, sending flashes to my mind—him. The big, burly demon who swept me off my feet and left me all alone to handle the consequences.
Since when does this occur to someone like me?
"No one stands up an angel," I say, sensing another surge of rage flowing through me.
It instantly immobilizes me, birthing a new sensation of fright.
"No..." I say, rubbing my palm over my heart. "No, I can't let that happen."
I know better. I've seen it, prevented it from expanding. Stopped such awful things from plaguing my world.
Pain leads to anger, which leads to...a blackened heart.
I cannot have a blackened heart. It's dangerous, but also, impossible.
Angels don't get darkened hearts. We don't put ourselves in such positions.
This has never happened before, yet here I am, proof of what a rogue demon is capable of.
I'm becoming the creature I'm meant to eradicate.
"No, never." I swipe a hand through the air, refusing to let this feeling consume me.
I take a few steps out into the empty square. It's late; citizens of Hazelvale are asleep.
Is this all some mistake? Perhaps Az put a spell on me, and I'll come down from it in a few hours. He toyed with me, enjoying the process of me coming undone for him.
That makes sense for a demon.
Or...the goddesses are testing me. They caught my flirtatious exchange with a demon and are punishing me for it. Reminding me the cost of succumbing to such a monster.
But I can't contact the goddesses. Confessing this would prove my guilt, and then I'd be in real trouble.
A few steps forward, and another pang shoots through me—but this one, I recognize. It's not my pain.
"Ah," I say, closing my eyes to concentrate.
This pang corrodes my blood, boils it. Sweeps through me and charges me with disgust. It's powerful, destabilizing.
A darkened heart is nearby.
To distract myself from my own troubled thoughts, I tap into those of this individual who's about to commit a crime.
I visualize the heart; it's progressing towards black, growing darker with each pulse. And it's very close.
I open my eyes and squint in the direction I'm smelling the heart's decaying coming from. Down an alley between two shabby houses; it's concentrated there.
I must intervene.
A handful more strides in that direction, and the stench is sharper, burning into my nostrils.
Strange; I had no targets tonight, no subtle shifts in the atmosphere to tell me there was a darkening heart on the prowl. This one's transformation was faster than usual, and I'm grateful that I'm catching it before it's too late.
As I approach, I sight two shadows moving in the night, one jammed against a wall, the other is nestled between its legs, grinding, grabbing at skin.
At first, I wonder if it's a non-consensual situation. But then I hear moans of pleasure and sense the thrum of desire accelerating my own heartbeat.
"Yes," says one voice, high and feminine, panting. "Do that, please."
"More?" says the other, also feminine. "More of that?"
Two women? Were I not hunting for dark hearts, I'd have stopped, watched. Ladies loving on one another was always a delicious fantasy for me.
Sadly, I'm not here to observe and enjoy. I'm here to destroy.
They continue thrusting, each motion hot, turning me on. Under the moonlight's glow, I sight a flash of a heavy breast, a pointed nipple. I lick my lips and trek onward, trying to decipher which of them is the culprit.
My eyes close again, and I narrow in on the darkened heart. It belongs to the woman who's against the wall.
It's tempting to join in on their delightful moans, to partake in their blissful moment, but I'm on a mission.
The heart is tinted red, with deep, obscure streaks pulsating through. They grow bigger, as the heart constricts, as if draining of feelings and caring. As if dying.
I get a whiff of her character as I analyze her heart.
This woman is a cheater. Her husband is slumbering in his bed, no clue his wife is out here getting fucked by a shadowy lady whose curves make me salivate.
That's the second cheater in weeks. What's happening to the townsfolk of Hazelvale?
"That won't do," I say, my voice filtering out to interrupt the tongue-twirling ladies.
They both look at me, appalled. The second one—the mistress—scatters off down the alley, disappearing.
Luckily for her, I'm not interested.
"You," I say, pointing at the cheater, who's still flattened against the wall, her exposed breast heaving up and down with heavy breaths. She gazes at me from head to toe; there's a spark of interest.
She's tempting. More so if she keeps looking at me like that; hungry and unfulfilled. She's beautiful. Curvy, well-endowed, lips plump and swollen from her forbidden kisses.
"Jealous?" she says, lifting her hand to toy with her nipple.
She thinks she can sway me, entice me; and she's not wrong. But I'm an angel, and I'm bred to resist her, to end her.
"Nice try. But your husband is the one who's jealous."
Her jaw drops. "Husband? He...but..."
"Enough talking." I raise my hand, palm directed towards her.
A blast of hot, red energy surges out of me and straight into her heart. She's opened her mouth to scream, but my power reaches her before she can utter a single sound.
The energy melts into her, then shines through her veins, igniting them under her pale skin. She can't move, too stunned to understand what's happening to her.
Again, she tries to scream. But instead of noise, it's a blackened tar that pours out of her mouth, dripping in thick coats down her shoulders, covering her body. I snap my fingers, and flames ignite from that tar, torching her.
The last thing I see is the fire flickering in her eyes as she's eaten alive by the heat. The flames devour her, take her hostage, never to return her to this world.
I turn away once her body transforms to ash, not a trace of her remaining to be found.
And now, to figure out what the fuck is happening to me.
Wordcount: 1,850
TOTAL: 14,079