Being one of the Devil's children is tough, especially when you have a heart of gold like Lux Morgenstern. She's spent her life flying under the radar, avoiding trouble and prying eyes. But everything changes when she captures the attention of Micha...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The ceiling of my room has never seemed stranger than the moment I open my eyes again, finding the space bathed in the soft blue hues of early morning.
I struggle to remember how I got back home, only vague, fleeting flashes of the night coming to mind. I can still see Nina's smile, the violet lights seeming to emanate from the bone-like walls surrounding us. I must have drunk to be able to dance, and drunk more to allow myself to be approached by a man. I probably kept drinking to stop thinking altogether and let him take me with him. I remember the fear and discomfort that followed—the rope around my wrists and that red light, a sickly, mournful glow in a room too sinister to promise anything good. Then the door burst open.
I recall the strange sensation that filled me when he entered the room, a feeling far from unfamiliar, like déjà vu—no, not déjà vu—a déjà ressenti. *
A sense of knowing the effect of his presence around me, like a constant, comforting fog.
A feeling of familiarity that unsettled me as much as it reassured me.
I could swear that at that moment, I thought I was seeing this man for the first time, and yet, my mind seemed to know him, and my instincts recognized him. I didn't give that detail much thought as I remained stunned by the violence with which he had just saved me from my assailant.
Then, when I thought he would become my new assailant, Michael became my savior.
My cheeks flush as the memory of what followed invades my thoughts just as he did with me, as his tongue explored a part of my body that had remained untouched until that night. I can't say whether it's shame that burns my face when I think about it or another kind of unspoken desire. Or, if I'm to be honest with myself and with him, by having introduced me to something I never expected to share with an archangel and an enemy.
He gave that to me, forced me to enjoy what he was making me discover, and not once did I have the presence of mind to say no. Something about him silenced me—his presence, his voice, his hands on my hips.
I should have said no, and as logical and rational as that might seem, I was incapable of it, every cell in my body surrendering to the attentions he lavished upon me.
And that, too, I remember; it comes back to me like a boomerang, making my heart beat indecently fast, almost painfully in my chest when I think about what he did to me. I need to get some air, to remember how I got back home, but most of all, how the night ended.
Worse than having accepted, worse than having given in under pressure—I needed him. My whole body begged him to take me where no one had ever taken me before.
As I turn onto my side, hoping to prop myself up on my elbow and make my way to the balcony, his piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, making me startle, a small cry escaping my lips.
He moves his hand so quickly I don't even see it happen, yet I distinctly feel his grip on my neck, pulling me toward him.
At least, that's what I think until I realize he simply prevented me from falling backward off the bed.
