The Demon-Born

Eerily static, everything in his house reeks of lousy witches and nuisance. In the veil of the night, I stare down at my wife with empty eyes. She always looks almost innocent of any flaw known to men.

“Nafasm.”

How she held my attention just breathing you would expect her to be the most profound of arts. Carved to perfection and vices.

“Little Temptress.” Whispering in the night, I graze my forefinger on her cheek. From her neck to her inviting bosom. Her miniature freckle there buzzed with her beating heart.

This dainty twig-like neck would snap in two with a flick in my hold. This fragile, yet she had this inexplicable hold on me. I narrow my eyes, sniffing her close. The transition had begun. I scrutinized the minx and I wonder how she made it this far.

She will likely need to have molten lava in her veins to survive the change. The corner of my lips turned up humorlessly. There's a possibility the last thread holding me here could disappear any moment.

As if to gut me good, she