"What brings an angel to a demon's living room? Curious to see where I hide my pitchfork?"
The woman visibly displays her nerves, her naturally glowing presence already giving me a headache as she shuffles in front of me, glancing anxiously from the...
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"Rick. Bourbon. Now." Are my first words when I enter the empty bar, stepping out of the October night that has humans shivering.
"C-Coming up," he nervously pulls out the specific bottle he knows I prefer, calculating mentally whether I am tense and care to take it out on him, or on his stock of alcohol.
I occupy my usual stool, slamming a ring-clad fist to the table.
"Sera, I'm guessing?"
A heavy sigh suits as my reply, and he slides over the drink.
"It's been a week and you still haven't agreed to let her out of your apartment?"
"Having your enemy in your home who doesn't know how modern elements work and has no knowledge of how to be street-smart in a city overflowing with sex, drugs, and violence is not exactly simple, Rick," I snap, gulping back the smooth drink. "It's like I'm a fucking babysitter teaching a newborn how to work a fucking microwave."
The first night I allowed Sera to stay, I went to bed, already visualizing the foreseeable future. If I let her have the freedom to explore the present day world and go on her merry way, regardless that her purpose is to have me find the light and error of my ways, she will end up finding herself back in some fucked up situation, and then surely an army of angels will be sent my way, or she will crawl back and force my conversion on a more strict level.
My decision to teach her how shit works inside and then dump her on the street and let her try and tackle life is my approach at losing her. If she can't handle me and her angel army comes, I can be honest and say I tried.
However, she has not made this so easy.
On our first morning together, I left her some clothes from former flings in the washroom in the hallway, along with a note inciting strict instructions to meet me in the kitchen so we could formulate some proper rules.
That's when she came out of the shower, in just a towel, to banter.
"Harry?" She entered the kitchen, my back to her as I prepared a simple toast breakfast, smearing jam on mine.
"Ready so soon? I just heard the water turn off," I suspected as I had unfortunately turned around, "unless you angels have super— hot body!"
My plate dropped to the floor along with my toast, her ravishing body sending sinful thoughts to arise in my head. The towel I left her left much to graze my eyes over, both above and below. Her skin still slightly damp in comparison to her soaked, curly hair radiated the light of my kitchen, widening my eyes.
Sera, meanwhile, appeared unfazed.
It took me a few moments to return to my senses and match her with her identity as my enemy, and I spun back around, gripped my countertop till my knuckles were white, and through my window's reflection, I saw my eyes oddly growing black as my trousers began to strain slightly.
