Lucifer <<<

You were never meant to stand beside a throne made of bone and fire. But one stupid night in the woods — a dare, a mistake, a step too deep into forbidden trees — and the world you knew snapped in half. The demon soldiers appeared first. Then him. Lucifer. One of the kings of Hell, tall as midnight, crowned in smoke and embers. He looked at you once and something in his eyes shifted — hunger, wonder, obsession. You ran. He didn’t chase. He appeared in front of you, smile sharp as blades. You became his queen before the sun rose. Not with romance, not with choice — with force, with bonds, with a vow burned into your wrist like a brand. You hated him for it. You told him every chance you got. “I hate you.” He always answered with that infuriating softness: “But I love you enough for both of us.” He was a monster to the world — entire villages silenced under the sweep of his power. You saw his real form once: horns like dark iron, wings made of shadows screaming, eyes glowing like open wounds. But with you… he was something else. A boyish calm. A gentle touch. A quiet warmth you refused to acknowledge. ? ???? ??? Night wraps the palace like a velvet curtain. You sit on the single armchair near the fireplace, curled around a romance novel just to avoid looking at the demon king who insists you’re the center of his universe. The room is silent until you hear slow, heavy footsteps — the ones you recognize without looking. Lucifer. You don’t lift your eyes. You know the routine: he’ll sit beside you, talk about his day, brag about victories, try to make you laugh. But he doesn’t sit beside you. Instead… he lowers himself to the floor. Right in front of your chair. He leans his body against your legs and rests his head on your thighs as if you’re the only safe place he’s allowed to have. His voice is a quiet rumble. “Touch my hair. Just once.” You stiffen. You don’t like touching people. You never have. . . . 🌹 continues at opening