"Stranger?" he says, peering up at me with his soulless but sexy eyes, gesturing at the seat across from him. "But why does it feel like I know you?"

Sweet talker. He knows how to woo with words. He weaves his comments into his sultry voice and infuses it with enough cockiness to keep me interested.

My brain wants to resist him, but my body obeys. I sit, crossing one leg over the other, leaning forward to press my breasts to the table.

He sneaks a glance, and I contain a smirk of satisfaction. If he wants to play, I'll play right back—and win.

"You're certainly comfortable for someone who isn't from here," I say, attempting another peek at his heart.

Blank.

Now that I sit closer, I perceive something radiating around it. A glow like the one I sensed around his body, but...dark. A grayish tint that gives off ominous vibrations.

He's wearing leather. Leather trousers, and a leather jerkin over his tight-fitting shirt. It's a fabric that's more on the richer side. Most Hazelvale inhabitants refrain from wearing it, keeping it for trade or as a treasured, expensive possession.

This further proves to me he isn't from around here. He'd have been wearing the same lower-grade materials as everyone else.

I angle deeper into the table, cocking my head, puckering my lips as I return to his face—

A pulse of something strong hits me as our gazes connect. I grip the table and grit my teeth, keeping my balance so he won't be suspicious; but I don't like what I felt.

It's malicious but masked under his hotness. It shot out from him, from his heart, something within him. A pulse...of evil.

Evil? I never feel evil, not in a long time. There should be no evil to detect. The only evil beings in Exivaria are...

Demons.

Shit.

I bite my tongue. Saying it would make it true, and I can't accept that. Not until I'm positive.

I drown in his eyes, pretending to listen to him recount some tale of how he's been exploring the town and enjoying it.

Oh, he's enjoying it, all right. Enjoying spreading his poison, his evil, all over my happy town.

That's what I've been feeling these past few days. The frisson of foreign energy that keeps tickling at me; it's not a tickle, it's a scratch. A gnarly gash that won't heal. A plague.

It'll make me bleed if I'm not careful.

"...many restaurants in this place, but I can't decide which specialty is my favorite." He clears his throat. "They all taste so delicious."

I nod for him to continue.

A demon in Hazelvale.

It's impossible, yet I can't mistake that negative energy around his heart for anything else. It's flickering, infesting my nostrils—rotten and sweet, alluring and deadly.

Demons were banished eons ago. Their king sought to topple Exivaria's cautious balance, tip us into war and bloodshed. The goddesses used all their strength and talents to lock the awful creature and his creations under-ground.

I've heard of demons escaping their confinement, but on other continents; not in Tavalon. Usually, they're not around long enough to provoke any permanent damage. Angels aren't equipped to fight them, but the goddesses should sense this type of threat immediately and fix it.

But this threat has been walking around Hazelvale untouched for three days?

I can't remove my gaze from his lips as he speaks in his baritone voice that entraps me. I try to focus on my thoughts, on the evil seeping from him and trying to infiltrate me. But something about him continues to hypnotize me.

It shouldn't.

Demons are trouble. They bring all the nefarious things to my world, they seek to destroy it for entertainment. The goddesses placed powerful spells on their hellish realm for a reason.

None of them are supposed to get out, yet here sits the proof of my goddesses' failing powers?

I should run. Scream at the skies, kneel at Drenaris' altar and summon her. She rarely shows herself, but she listens to my prayers. If I tell her there's a demon in our midst, she'll appear, she'll rectify this. Send him back where he belongs, but...

But...

There's something about this demon that keeps drawing me in. He awakens a hunger in me so painful that I can't move, can't flee.

He's not here for any good reason, and yet I'm intrigued by him. By what his presence means.

"...everyone recoils at first, but I'm a tad large compared to other humans, so..."

Humans, he says. It's like he's not even trying to blend in.

Does he know I've figured him out? He doesn't even care that I'm not answering his questions; he keeps rambling on, venting, journaling his excursions.

As he talks, he's drinking me in, loving my aura of lust and love, I can tell; but he'll play with that lust and love and twist it around. He can snap his fingers and break me from the inside.

Angels versus demons is not a combination Exivaria is familiar with. I've read tales of confrontations in the distant past; angels never won. Angels never survived.

And here I am, an angel, sitting at a table with a demon who's out to seduce me.

I am seduced. So heavily roped into his speech, his gorgeous figure, his frighteningly dark eyes. Any will in my brain to resist him is fading, my body's urges taking over.

He makes me want to tiptoe along the line of what's allowed, and what's forbidden. And he is absolutely forbidden to me.

I'm not supposed to develop attachments or feelings to humans, but my kind cannot mingle with demons. If we're caught sharing the same air, I could be severely punished. I could lose my coveted role.

Everything I'm about, my goals, the work I've put in—erased by sharing space with this demon.

But this demon...holds me in the palm of his hand. I'm melting into him as he continues to tell me about his adventures, the people he's met, the food he's eaten.

There's nothing interesting about what he's saying, but his voice is so hypnotic, I can't quit listening. My mouth salivates to imagine his mouth on mine, discovering all the places it can ignite with the flames of desire.

My tongue tingles with need. My body yearns for something new, something wrong.

"...and those macarons. My goodness, those things melt in your mouth. Soft and sugary and smooth..."

"Oh, yes." I perk up as he mentions one of my favorite delicacies. "The vanilla ones are never disappointing. But I insist that you try the berry-infused ones. To die for."

His eyes gleam, a glint of something impure and perilous in their depths.

This is where I should back away, remove myself. I should tell Henderson to shut the bar down, kick this creature out.

But my feet are planted, my legs parting as if to welcome him between them. I'm antsy, eager, my heart thudding in my chest in ways I don't recognize. The wetness gathering in my center is unbearable.

He hasn't even touched me, and I'm craving him. For once, I don't want to watch someone else have sex. I want to partake. And I want it with him.

I want his massiveness inside me—I have no doubt his cock is enormous—and I want it fast. Slow. All night. Forever.

I want to lay with this man, no matter the cost.

His aura is striking, pierced with gloom and cold and danger. But I want it, I yearn for it. My body quivers in anticipation, and the more I listen to him, the more I want to quiet him by putting my mouth on his.

I imagine evil tastes like the most indulgent treat; it'll burn my tongue and pleasure it all at once. A thrill, thrumming through me with such intensity that I won't be able to stand.

And it'll leave me gasping for air, desperate for more, never to receive it.

He can hurt me. He will hurt me. And yet...it doesn't matter. He dulls my senses, reins in my powers, brings a strange comfort to me as he awakens my arousal.

It's dangerous, but I want this demon. Now.

As I tug my lip between my teeth, my gaze snapping to his chest, trying to peer below the table at the bulge I imagine awaits me, I offer him a silent question. I squint, quirk an eyebrow, jut my chin.

A cocky smile slides over his lips as he sits back, studying me. "You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"

I mimic him, crossing my arms under my bosom. I catch him looking, licking his lips. "I am, but I must admit...I'm distracted."

He reaches down, adjusting something between his legs. I gulp as he sets a hand on the table. "I see what you're getting at. And I'm curious. Do tell me, perfect creature, what's on your mind."

Wordcount: 1,466
TOTAL: 10,540