Something about what I said prompts her to drop her dagger and bring her hands to her face.

At first I expect her to run over and lodge her nails in me instead; maybe she's decided a more hands-on injury will be more suitable. Or this is her way of charging up more power to hurl at me, to finish me off permanently.

I dared say those words, unprompted, and she'll despise me for it. She won't believe me.

But then she lowers her hands, and I see she's crying.

Crying.

Fuck, I've made her cry, on top of everything else I've done to her. I came back to ask for forgiveness, and I've only made things worse. I made myself vulnerable by opening up, and it's only pushed her farther away.

"Dru, I..." I take a tentative step forward, unsure how she'll react to me getting closer. "Maybe that was too much, too soon, but I..."

"Did you mean it?" She sets a trembling palm to her heart. "You...love me?" Her voice is shaky, and all her earlier rage has melted from her being. She's still skinny and frail-looking, but for a second she almost looks like her former self; drenched in light and love, and eager to give.

Do I mean it? I said the words impulsively, but they must be true. My heart is thudding as I look at her, as I remember the feel of her. My body yearns for hers, no matter her fragile state. I know what's underneath her clothes, her skin; I connected with her in ways I never connected with anyone.

Yes, I'm but a few weeks old, but the bond I share with her is something I didn't think existed.

From the get-go, there's been something about her that drew me in. Not because she was my target, but because there was more to her. More to her sensuality, to the delicious curves, to the taunting words she used to tantalize me.

And after that night we spent together...I haven't been the same. Something in me changed after being with her, and it crept up on me as I went about my tasks.

And why else would it have hurt me so much to hurt her? Why would it have made me feel so guilty as I poisoned her heart day by day, night by night, visiting her dreams to torment her?

"Yes," I say in a breathy whisper, then clear my throat. "Yes, I mean it, Druvena. I, Azath, demon of heartbreak, love you."

She gulps, then shakes herself out of whatever stupor she'd been in. Now she's going to stride up and end me, right? She let me confess my feelings, and will take my life as redemption.

Instead, she approaches me with caution. She's slightly recoiled, but there's intrigue in her gaze, openness in her heart, I can feel it.

"I get it now," she says, setting a hand on my upper arm. I prepare for her to shoot her energy into me, to destroy me from the inside. "Your point. Us working together."

I was about to close my eyes and embrace the pain, but they widen as I take her in. "Huh? You're not...you would...what?"

Her hand caresses me; her nails don't dig in, and no furious power radiates from her touch. Only the natural power of...affection. Kindness.

Love.

"We're both corrupted, impure. And we are, like you said, both responsible for this. You..." She winces, looks away. "You were controlled. And me?" She tips her head back to peer at the dark sky. "I was blinded. I forgot my mission because I wanted time to myself."

"Is that not allowed?" I want to touch her so badly, but worry she's not ready yet.

"Angels aren't selfish." She slides her hand up, cupping my cheeks. "We can indulge from time to time, but what I did with you...it's blasphemous. I'm surprised the goddesses didn't kill me for that fact alone. An angel and a demon? Never heard of."

"Okay," I take a deep breath, "so are you going to kill me now, or...?"

She giggles; such a sweet, girlish sound compared to her earlier cackles. "No, I'm not. Because killing you won't fix anything."

She takes my hand, brings my knuckles to her lips. After a few smooches that send chills up my arms, she yanks me close, and gets on her tiptoes, her lips approaching mine.

I know what she's doing, but I'm still slightly in shock, so I can't move, can't reach forward to meet her halfway.

Her eyes narrow as she grabs my face and jerks me closer. "Azath," she breathes, a whisper of her breath blowing over me. "Kiss me, you fool. No one has ever said those words to me. I don't know what the fuck you've done, but apparently, I love you, too."

That does it for me. I lean down, allowing our lips to touch. Warmth spreads through me as we kiss; a kiss so much more intense than any other we exchanged. One so loaded with need and hope and love that it makes me dizzy when we separate.

The energy between us has shifted. It's lust, it's adoration, and it's strong. It's like this was always meant to happen; her and I are complements to one another, meant to be.

A demon and an angel, allies, lovers. Defying all odds and certainly far from a normal couple.

So strong I stumble back, shaking my head. "So what does this mean, then?"

She keeps her hand on my arm as she lowers to her regular height. "I don't know. We fight together, I guess? A rogue demon on the run and a failed angel recovering from a broken heart? Quite the team."

"But how?" It's what I wanted—for us to band together and stop the corruption from tearing the world apart.

But now that she's consented to it, I have no clue how to start.

"Well, you're cut off from your resources." She glances at the ground, as if seeing Hell below it. "And I'm not really in the goddesses' good graces right now, but I do still work for them."

As she peeked down at my realm, I peer up to the sky, where I imagine hers is; at least, where her bosses come from. "Have they told you what to do?"

She shrugs, hugging herself for body heat. A glacial breeze whips down the alleyway, bringing us down from our high and reminding us what's at stake.

The world's undoing.

"They told me to fight," she says, turning on her heel, staring at something I can't see at the end of the alley.

"Fight what?" I join her, squinting the same direction, but puzzled. "Demons?"

"I presume, yes. That barrier is still weakening, right? With every new broken heart, the veil thins."

I shudder at the veracity of her facts. Her goddesses must have informed her of what's happening, how the heartbreak's negativity is affecting the entire continent, the world.

"Bazroth will escape," I say, fists tightening at my sides.

"Bazroth," she repeats, her voice sounding like she's spitting out his name and planning to stomp on it, squish it.

"The King of Hell. He's dangerous. There's a reason he was locked up," I say, though I have no doubt she already knows all this.

This isn't the end of the line for us. We still have so many obstacles to overcome.

When the veil is gone—and at this rate, it will be gone—we'll have much more to deal with, as demons will roam, and they won't be as tender-hearted as me. Their goal isn't heartbreak; it's destruction, doom, death.

They'll thirst for blood until no human is left, and Bazroth can repopulate the world the way he sees fit.

With demons.

"Right. So," she spins to me, extending her hand, "we redeem ourselves, you and I. We offer our help to the goddesses to keep that cage closed."

I take her hand, squeeze it. A tingling jolt jars through me, as if signaling that this is the correct path. That being with Dru is the right thing to do, no matter what.

"We hunt down those broken hearts and fix them." I swallow. "Can we fix them?"

Dru's sad smile tells me we may have to get our hands dirty. "I've always employed other methods," she says, wrinkling her nose. "But I'm sure the goddesses will guide me if I beg for forgiveness. And having a demon on our team," she nudges me, "might be to our advantage."

"So we do this." We stroll down the alley and stop at its end; I see now what Dru saw. Chaos. Disaster. Men and women roaming the streets like reanimated dead bodies, growling for attention, eager to hurt.

Their hearts are black.

"We restore the world to how it used to be and block Bazroth's escape." She squeezes my hand. "Together?"

I squeeze back as we enter the fray. "Together."

Wordcount: 1,468
TOTAL/FINAL: 36,534