Dear Devil
he whispered, voice low, dark, teasing.
Her fingers slid over his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle as she closed the last inch between them, lips brushing his. “If I can’t kill the devil…” she murmured, voice trembling with fire, “then when I take my revenge… you’ll wish for anything but death.” Her eyes locked on his in a promise. “I will make you taste tears of blood, dear devil.”