Satan's Playground | H.S.

🔥One🔥

"At night we are all strangers, even to ourselves." -AlexanderMcCall Smith

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Harry

The young devil—with whom our story began—paced around his apartment. He tried to imagine different scenarios where the girl he watched for so long could finally become his. He despised dwelling on the earth, but he knew that his goal was just up ahead. He only came here to seek her out, and she already trusted him. They were already friends, he just paraded around in someone else's skin pretending to be anyone but the son of Satan. He did all of this because her soul drew him to her. Her scent, her blue eyes, her soft flesh, her entire being—he had never been so attracted to anything or anyone before. It both annoyed and drove the fallen angel mad with desire every time he saw her. Because she had such an effect on him, he counteracted all of his desire with the need to damn her very soul to the pit of despair. Little did he know that damning her wasn't what his heart longed for.

He deceived the girl for two years now. It had been two years since he started morphing into his disguise and walking around as a different man. He found it easy to fool the humans. Amusing almost, for they believed anything if the trust was present. The young devil was smart. He knew that the humans he associated with trusted him, for he did not expose them to his true appearance. He did not parade around in Hell with a pointy red tail, but he had a certain beauty that wasn't human. He had deep green eyes, chestnut curls, long eyelashes, plump pink lips, and a slender figure that towered above most who walked near him. He hid his natural appearance, for he knew people would see him as something far greater and more powerful than a human. He was too beautiful to be real.

As he stood in the middle of his room, he brushed his fingers through his hair in exasperation. He was tired of trying to imagine a plan, but there was nothing else in the universe that he wanted more. She was his drug just as much as the heroin she injected into her arm every night was hers.

Just as his lips began to curl into a smile at a possible solution to his entire problem, his body shuddered by the presence of another demon in the room.

"You could've knocked," the young devil snapped. He was annoyed that the plan in his mind had been interrupted.

"I could have, but I didn't," Paul—his father's assistant—responded uninterested. "Besides, you know why I'm here, Harry."

"It's Harold to you," the devil growled, "and I don't need you to lecture me on my choices. Soon I will be the king and—"

"Soon is not now. You may be the prince, but you are still ruled by your father."

"Don't remind me. I will be king soon enough though, and the first thing I rid eternity of is you," Harry snarled. He detested Paul because his father constantly used Paul as the demon to check on him. He was a prince of the lake itself, he didn't need to be held accountable by anyone. "Now, what do you want?"

"I want to tell you to stay away from Lena," Paul spoke, and the prince's body tensed over. Just the thought of hearing a demon he hated speak her name roused something inside of him.

"There is nothing to discuss," Harry casually replied, even though his body remained tense. There were things that needed to be discussed, for Harry desired her to say his name. He desired her to touch him, to want him, just as he wanted to touch her and to break her. Humans were predictable, and he knew that it would not be much longer before she would finally be his. He knew he was close to his goal, and he did not need Paul interfering. After all, he was the ultimate sadist.