Serpentine Desires
I knew exactly who he was.
Death never knocks, and neither does the devil.
He stood impossibly tall. Muscles rippled beneath his black shirt, barely containing the brutality and menace coiled within. His aura was suffocating, pulling the air from my lungs as if the very world bent around him. Handsome—no, that was an understatement.
He was beautiful in the most wicked, sinful way, a face sculpted from temptation itself.
The kind of beauty that led men to ruin and souls to damnation.