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PLANS AND PROMISES
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2025-09-23 06:33:27
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A year to love the devil PLANS AND PROMISES
AZREAL'S POV She tugged the pendant at her throat, a small habit she’d picked up. “What do you mean by small?” “False sightings,” I said. “A shadow in the corner of his office. A voice on his voicemail that sounds like Yasmine, saying things that only she would know.” I watched her as I listed the ideas. “Documents. Little notes delivered where he can’t help but see them. A file that reappears on his desk after he deletes it. Friends who swear they heard him talking to himself on calls. The absence of sleep eats at the mind like rust.” She smiled then, cold and sharp. “Make him think I’m alive. Make him see me in places I never would be. Make him imagine the things he did.” “Exactly.” I tapped the wooden table once. “And make him watch. We’ll leak his mistakes at first—emails, payment trails, forged evidence implying he’s been embezzling from his own company. Not enough to kill him financially; just enough to get the board sniffing. Then a call from an anonymous source. Then a c
A year to love the devil UNFORGIVING INTENT
Azrael’s POV I stared at the room. It didn’t feel, didn't look like mine anymore. The heavy curtains were gone, the ones that shut the world out and kept everything in shadow. In their place, pale ash-colored fabric moved faintly with the breeze, letting in more light than I thought I could tolerate. The bedspread Yasmine had insisted on was softer too, patterned in shades of blue and white that clashed with every inch of black paint on the walls. It should have been unbearable. It wasn’t. The plant in the corner, stubborn and green, looked almost ridiculous against centuries of darkness—but I couldn’t stop staring at it. Blue, white, ash. The words tugged at me, and memory stirred. “What’s your favorite color?” A voice, soft and curious, leaning close across time. “I don’t have favorites,” I’d answered, centuries ago. “But if I did, it would be… blue. White. Ash.” Her laugh had been bright enough to echo in my bones. I blinked and the memory fell away, leaving the prese
A year to love the devil CURTAINS OF CHANGE
YASMINE'S POV There was a look on his face I couldn’t name. Concern, maybe, or a tiredness that sat behind his eyes. I felt my stomach flip at it, like a small animal sensing weather. For a moment, I almost told him about the dream—the lash, the girl on the ground, the way it had felt like it belonged to me—but the words died behind my teeth. Some things stayed buried because speaking them made them true. Instead, I kept the conversation light. I told him about a woman at a stall who’d insisted a fabric would make my cheeks brighter, and he laughed at my joke about replacing his curtains with something gaudy and pink. He laughed like he meant it; the sound was rarer than it should be, and it did something in my chest I couldn’t name. When I pushed my chair back to stand, he reached across the table and caught my wrist—gentle, not a grip that demanded. “Stay,” he said simply. I froze because when Azrael said a single word and meant it, it felt like an order and a promise all at onc
A year to love the devil SHADOWS OF THE PAST
Yasmine’s POV The sound of a lash tearing through flesh jolted me into stillness. My chest tightened as the scream followed—raw, desperate, ripping through the air until it seemed to shred the world around me. I tried to run toward it, but my feet sank like they were caught in mud. My arms reached, my throat burned as I screamed, “L-let her go!” But the air swallowed my voice, leaving me hollow, voiceless. The sound came again. Whip. Cry. Whip. Cry. And then I saw her. A girl, crumpled on the ground, face buried in her hands as the man above her raised his belt again. My body wrenched forward, but invisible chains clamped me where I stood. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. “Stop!” I shrieked, though the word sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else. Blood streaked the dirt. Her sobs tore into me, every one cutting deeper than the lash that struck her skin. And then suddenly—her face turned, and it wasn’t a stranger’s anymore. It was mine. I was the one on the groun
A year to love the devil UNLEASHED
AZREAL'S POV Yasmine tilted her head, letting her fingers brush the bracelet I’d fastened on her earlier, her voice smooth and cutting. “Yes. My husband. The one who doesn’t need to be leashed at home because he actually wants to be with me.” The women around them chuckled, some covering their mouths, others nodding. And Yasmine wasn’t done. She leaned closer, her voice dipping to something silkier, sharper. “Tell me, Aileen—where is yours? Oh, right. Maybe he’s… busy. Too busy cheating to walk by your side.” The laughter that followed wasn’t quiet. It was the market’s laughter, the kind that spreads fast, women whispering and snickering as they passed the words along. Aileen’s face blazed, her lips trembling between fury and humiliation. She tried to speak, but every sound drowned beneath the murmurs—“cheating,” “too busy for her,” “what a shame.” She shot Yasmine a glare that could have killed a lesser woman, then turned sharply on her heel, her skirts whipping the air as sh
A year to love the devil THREADS OF TENSION
Her fingers lingered on the jewel, and she smiled at me in a way that made the whole damn fortress feel different. Lighter. Like it wasn’t just stone and shadow anymore.I forced myself to pull back before I betrayed too much, before I let the words in my throat spill out—because if I told her how it was chosen, how it wasn’t just some jewel but something I thought of with her in mind, I wouldn’t be able to stop.“Come,” I said instead, forcing steadiness into my voice. “We’ll be late.”“Late to what? Demon’s Day Out?” she teased, adjusting the necklace so it sat properly against her throat.I exhaled sharply through my nose. “Shopping.”Her lips curved. “Shopping. With you. Somehow that’s even funnier.”I ignored the sting of amusement in her voice, though the way her eyes danced when she said it tugged at me harder than I liked....By the time we left the fortress, the outside world was bursting with the kind of noise and life my walls had been built to shut out. Vendors called f
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