He shed his true form, wings and all, until only his human disguise remained—black collared shirt slightly unbuttoned to reveal his sculpted chest, and dark slacks that hugged his frame effortlessly. She, in contrast, wore a simple white sundress that fluttered softly with each step.
They descended a grand staircase into a massive nightclub. It loud, pulsing, and alive with chaos.
The air was thick with sweat, smoke, and something more dangerous. People danced with wild abandon, kissed like they'd never breathe again, spilled drinks down their bodies, passed around pills and powder. It was everything she despised.
To her, they looked empty. Soulless. Like hollow shells wrapped in skin, chasing a rhythm that controlled them like puppets.
"You own... all this?" she asked, hesitantly.
He turned to her and gave a wicked wink. "All mine, baby."
She didn't know why she kept following him. Curiosity? Fascination? Or maybe it was just the way he smelled, like danger and something addictive. His hazel eyes shimmered under the strobe lights, impossible to look away from.
Her chest tightened as they moved through the crowd, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Something fluttered low in her stomach, a sensation both foreign and frightening. Her gaze kept slipping back to him—his arms, his chest, the sharp lines of his jaw.
Heat crept over her skin, and she forced herself to look away, shaking the thoughts from her mind.
They sat in a shadowed corner booth, partially hidden from the crowd. Every now and then, someone approached offering him hugs, handshakes, whispered greetings. She tried not to engage, keeping her answers short when she had to speak.
Nerves prickled along her spine. This wasn't her world. She didn't know how to exist in it without a purpose, without someone to save. Here, she was just... exposed.
And still, he kept looking at her.
With every sly glance, every wink, something inside her twisted. She should've left. She always did by now. But tonight, she felt caught. Rooted in place by something she couldn't name.
Frozen in time, her eyes drifted between him and the crowd. And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she was watching the chaos... or slowly becoming part of it.
"Your tasks as a demon are so easy," she said quietly, almost nervously. "You tempt more people in a day than I'm able to heal."
The words left a bitter taste in her mouth.
It was easier to destroy than to heal—
and that was the saddest part of all.
He tilted his head, lips pressed together before letting out a sharp click of his tongue. "Yeah, that's true." His gaze drifted to the crowd, watching them move like shadows under neon light. Then his eyes found hers again. "But your job... feels better to do. I get satisfaction from—"
He paused, glancing around. "...this."
There was something hollow in the way he said it.
"Yeah. True," she murmured, softer this time.
Even he was surprised she hadn't left yet. She didn't belong here and she knew it. But she stayed.
Why?
Curiosity?
Temptation?
Him?
He wasn't sure. But it intrigued him.
Because the truth was, whatever this was between them, it felt unfamiliar.
And for someone who'd seen everything... that was rare.
He was just as confused as she was.
And that only pulled him in deeper.
"I'm not complaining, though," he said with a sly smile. "I sure do have a lot of fun."
She sighed.
He confused her. In every way.
Yes, he was definitely what she'd been taught demons were. But somehow... not entirely.
There was something else beneath the surface. Something that made her wonder if he was different.
Maybe that's why she hadn't left. Maybe that's why she couldn't.
She wasn't thinking about later. Not where she'd go or what she'd tell herself when this night ended.
She was too focused on him on this moment.
Trying to read him like a book written in a language she was just beginning to understand.
Without a word, he stood and extended his hand.
She blinked, unsure, but took it anyway.
He pulled her into the crowd.
Before she could say anything, he spun her once, fast and playful, making her stumble slightly.
"Oh—I don't—" she started, but he was already twirling her again.
"Dance," she muttered, a little dizzy.
He caught both of her hands in his. "Just feel the music, pretty girl."
She let out a breath, trying to quiet the storm inside her. She let her hips sway, let the rhythm carry her.
"There you go!" he laughed, moving with her.
And for a moment, she smiled.
But the smile didn't reach her heart.
Underneath it all, she felt worry. Guilt. Fear. A knot curling in her stomach.
They locked eyes.
It made everything worse.
She tried to fit in, tried to dance like the others.
And yes, it felt good. But no dance could drown the feeling gnawing at her from the inside.
A woman bumped into her, grinning as she joined them, pressing a drink into her hand.
"Oh, I don't—" she began, shaking her head nervously.
"One won't hurt," the woman insisted with a wink. "Just try it."
She hesitated.
But... hadn't she already done enough tonight?
Wasn't that why she was here—to understand?
She wanted to know what it was like.
Why people drank.
Why they chased the numbness.
Why they ran from the ache.
She wanted the heavy feeling in her chest to disappear.
Just for a while.
So she took a sip.
It was bitter, strange... but something about it pulled her in.
She finished the glass.
"Damn, girl!" the woman laughed, clearly impressed.
The edge dulled a little.
She didn't feel too strange, just lighter. Calmer.
The storm quieted for the first time that night.
"It's like... a potion," she giggled, eyes glassy with surprise.
She grabbed another glass from a passing tray and drank it down without thinking.
Solem stood still, watching her with a look he rarely wore: amazement.
An angel doing this?
He could hardly believe it.
The more he saw, the more questions stirred in him.
Who really was this girl?
Warmth spread through her like a slow moving flam starting in her chest, then blooming outward to her limbs. The weight she carried just moments before began to lift, as if someone had quietly unfastened it from her shoulders.
Her thoughts softened, no longer sharp or spiraling. Everything felt... slower. Softer. Safer.
The guilt was still there, buried somewhere beneath the surface, but it felt quieter now, like a distant echo instead of a scream. The ache in her heart dulled to a hum, and for the first time that night, she didn't feel like she was fighting herself.
She felt looser in her body, like the strings that always held her upright had been gently untied. Her arms moved more freely. Her laughter came easier. Her skin tingled with sensation, every beat of the music a ripple across her nerves, every flash of light casting the room in a surreal, dreamy glow.
She didn't feel like herself... and somehow, that was a relief.
It wasn't peace, not really.
But it was a pause.
And for now, that was enough.
He pulled her close, hands settling gently on her waist.
Her breath caught—fast and shallow—as if her body was still trying to process everything.
She wasn't drunk, not fully. She knew what was happening.
The nerves were still there, humming beneath her skin... but they didn't feel heavy anymore.
She let her guard drop, just enough.
"You're beautiful, you know that?" he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face.
She giggled softly. "Thank you."
"Come with me," he said, taking her hand.
He led her through the crowd, back up to the rooftop. The night wrapped around them—cool air, distant music, a skyline that looked like it had been painted with stars.
She held a can of vodka, still half-full, but he gently pushed it away.
"No more for you," he said with a teasing smirk, then tossed it aside.
She looked up at him with wide, doe-like eyes. Curious. Open.
She didn't care about the city lights anymore. She was watching him. And somehow, he was doing the same.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was something deeper.
Whatever it was, he didn't question it.
He just wanted this moment to last.
"Want to go for a walk in the city?" he asked, voice low.
She didn't answer. She stood, took a few steps toward the edge—
then jumped.
"Celine!" he shouted, panic slicing through his chest.
But by the time he leapt after her, she had already unfurled her wings, gliding effortlessly through the sky.
He followed, wings stretching wide, chasing the silver streak of her in the moonlight.
They flew until they touched down in a quiet alley, shadows thick and the world hushed.
She landed with laughter spilling from her lips, her smile radiant, carefree in a way he'd never seen.
He laughed too genuine and full.
When a stranger passed, they pressed themselves against the wall, shifting quickly back into their human forms. Their laughter muffled behind hands and secret glances.
Then, fingers intertwined, they walked through the sleeping streets not as demon and angel.
Not even as opposites. Just two souls lost in a night they didn't want to end.
They approached a small gas station glowing dimly under the night sky. Celine wandered the aisles with wide eyes, gathering a small pile of candy in her arms like a child seeing sugar for the first time.
"Dammit, I don't have money," she muttered, pausing at the counter with an uneasy glance.
Without hesitation, he reached for the candy, casually tucking it beneath his shirt with a grin.
"Shhh," he whispered, finger to her lips.
She couldn't help it, she giggled. Her nerves bubbling into laughter.
Moments later, they were sitting on a worn bench just outside, unwrapping candy and watching the occasional car roll by under the streetlights.
But the warmth from earlier was fading. The alcohol had dulled, and now everything crept back in.
Guilt.
Fear.
A sharp ache twisting quietly in her chest.
She looked down at the wrapper in her hand, her appetite suddenly gone.
"We should've paid for it," she said softly.
She knew she would return. She'd watch over the clerk, maybe offer help in her own way, whatever it took to make it right.
She turned her head and studied the gas station one more time, letting the image burn into memory.
"I need to check on Inferna, my nightclub," he said as he stood and stretched. "Make sure everything's still standing."
"Let's go." he added.
They walked through the glowing city, hand in hand just for a moment.
Then she pulled away, clearing her throat awkwardly.
He looked over at her, puzzled.
"Cold," she lied, wrapping her arms around herself.
A smirk tugged at his lips. "I got you, then."
He slid an arm around her shoulders. She didn't pull away.
She just swallowed hard, trying to ignore the storm of emotion curling up inside her.
Her footsteps echoed in her mind more than the street beneath them. The night was quiet now, except for the sounds of the city breathing around them— soft cars in the distance, muffled laughter, neon signs humming low.
But inside her, everything was loud.
She hadn't just stolen. She had danced. She had drunk.
She had let him touch her waist, pull her in, spin her under flashing lights like she belonged there.
And in that moment... she almost believed she did.
That terrified her.
Back in Lumara, everything was slow and graceful.
Candlelight. Floating orchestras. Formal galas held in marble halls where people didn't touch unless they meant something eternal.
Everything was composed, sacred. Pure.
Tonight felt like the opposite of everything she was raised for.
No golden floors. No harps or gowns. Just pounding music, strangers pressed against each other, her dress sticking to her skin from sweat and dancing, and liquor burning down her throat. She hadn't just disobeyed—she had lost herself.
She looked down at her fingers, still slightly sticky from the candy, still tingling from where he'd held her hand. Her stomach twisted. Was it the drink making her feel this way, or was it him? Or maybe it was her—cracking open in a way she couldn't stop.
What scared her most wasn't that she'd sinned.
It was how easy it was.
How beautiful the sin looked when it smiled at her with hazel eyes.
She glanced at him again as they walked. His arm rested on her shoulders, and part of her wanted to shrug it off. But the other part— the warm, reckless part, leaned into it just slightly.
She didn't know who she was tonight.
She didn't know if she liked this version of herself.
But she was starting to understand why people fall.
And the worst part?
She wasn't sure if she wanted to stop falling.
When they stepped into the nightclub, it was nearly deserted—only about five men lingered in the dim, flickering lights.
"Hello, Solem," one of them said, stepping toward them with a knowing smirk.
Celine's hand tightened around Solem's arm. "Who is this?" she asked, her voice soft but uneasy, eyes wide with a mix of wonder and wariness.
Solem didn't answer. He just looked down at her with a blank stare that was unreadable.