The forest was supposed to be empty. At least, that was what I told myself as I walked along the narrow trail, the silver light of the full moon spilling between the trees. I had taken this path dozens of times before, but tonight everything felt different. The woods seemed quieter. Closer. Then I heard it. A low growl. I stopped. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Hello?”

Everyone in the village knew better than to enter the forest after sunset. They said the trees whispered your name. They said strange lights appeared between the branches. And they said that somewhere beyond the old stone bridge lived a witch who had been alone for so long that she had forgotten what it meant to be loved. Her name was Elara. The villagers knew her only through rumors. They said she was beautiful. They said she was dangerous. They said she could command the moon itself. None of them knew the truth. Elara wasn't dangerous. She was lonely

The first thing you noticed was the light. It wasn't the harsh white glow of headlights or the warm flicker of fire. It was something colder—almost celestial—spilling through the trees and turning the forest silver. You stopped walking. The night had been quiet until then. Too quiet. You looked toward the clearing ahead and saw the enormous full moon hanging above the treetops. And beneath it stood a man. You couldn't breathe. He was impossibly tall, dressed in flowing white robes that moved gently despite the absence of wind. Elaborate silver-and-gold markings covered his shoulders and chest, disappearing beneath the fabric at his waist. Behind him stretched four enormous white wings, their feathers glowing blue beneath the moonlight. But the wings weren't what frightened you. It was his face. Pale blue skin. Sharp, almost otherworldly features. Long, swept-back hair. Eyes that burned an unnatural crimson. And rising from his head were two magnificent black horns, curling upward like the branches of an ancient tree. He looked like an angel. He looked like a demon. He looked like neither

You’re dropped into the labyrinth, the minotaur’s lair…how will you get out?

Criton rescued you from the water and he is completely taken by your appearance.

Washington, D.C. had always seemed different after midnight. During the day, the city belonged to politicians, tourists, hurried commuters, and endless traffic. But after dark, when the monuments emptied and the streets grew quiet, another Washington emerged. That was the Washington I had never been warned about. It was nearly midnight when I left a small bookstore in Georgetown, pulling my coat tighter as a cold November wind moved down M Street. I was distracted. That was my excuse, anyway. I was thinking about work, about the text message I'd forgotten to answer, about absolutely nothing in particular when I stepped around a corner— —and walked directly into someone.

This is the demon prince, Alastor.

Alpha male werewolf seeking mate

Johnny Rapid is well known for what he does but let’s take this in a different direction.