A Demon’s Kiss
I wouldn't be surprised if he were to take off those gloves, he would reveal hands stained with blood.
Keo takes a long time to answer, the soft, flower scented breeze ruffling his dark curls. Below his jaw, down the side of his neck, is a picture, or perhaps a collection of pictures that are impossible to decipher in the darkness.
"Who's to say other Demon's aren't like me? Who's to say we aren't the same?" he asks lowly, a shadow passing over his eyes.
I swallow, straightening. "I know we aren't. I'm a good person."