Rapha
I still can’t believe she’s here in my arms. She’s as beautiful as I remember, all lush curves and dark, hypnotic eyes, her ebony hair spilling across my chest like midnight silk. But it’s more than beauty. It’s her . The spark, the fire, the wildness. The woman who once chose me over an empire.
Gods, how I’ve missed her. I want to ravish her, consume her, revel in her essence. I want to bury myself deep inside her until my cock is sated and my soul reclaims the peace I’ve only ever found with her. But I hold back. She’s terrified. Uncertain of this new world. I need to give her time.
I’ve waited centuries. I can wait a little longer.
I stroke my claws gently along her spine through the thin cotton shift she wears, careful not to scratch her soft skin. Every beat of her heart drums against me like a warning: fragile, fragile, fragile. It terrifies me more than any blade ever could.
She shouldn’t be human. She should be strong, eternal, untouchable. But Lucifer couldn’t resist making it a test, setting me up to break my heart all over again.
My demon power simmers under my skin, demanding I take what is mine, protect what is mine, ruin the world if anyone dares threaten her. But for now, I force it down, bury it beneath the tenderness that only Drusilla has ever coaxed out of me.
She shifts in my lap, looking up at me with those soft, wary eyes. So much confusion swims in them, so much pain. It nearly shatters me.
“I’ll help you remember, mea amora ,” I promise roughly. “You’re safe with me. Always.”
Her lower lip trembles. I brush it with my thumb, the sight of her vulnerability gutting me.
“Why here?” she asks. “Why this place…Screaming Woods?”
“Lucifer said you chose this place. That you chose not to come back to me immediately.”
Her brows knit together. “I did? I…don’t remember. It wasn’t a conscious choice. One minute, I was dead, and the next, I awoke here. Alone.”
I press my lips to her forehead, trying to soothe the fear in every tense line of her body.
“Screaming Woods is a crossroads. It’s become something of a hybrid town since the Halloween mishap, when a potion turned the inhabitants into magical creatures,” I explain.
“Perhaps you chose it subconsciously as it was easier to anchor you here.”
“Or perhaps Lucifer lied to you,” she says, holding my gaze, “because I would choose to return to your side in any lifetime, Rapha.”
I swallow hard at the sincerity in her eyes. “Yes, it’s quite possible that Lucifer lied to me. He does like to play his little mind games. But I won’t let anything happen to you,” I vow again, needing her to believe me.
She sighs, leaning back against me, exhausted.
I hold her tighter, inhaling her lavender and sunshine scent.
Drusilla shifts in my lap again, moving to straddle me and cupping my face in her soft hands. Her touch is hesitant, almost as if she’s afraid I’ll vanish. I lean into it, starved for her warmth, for the softness only she’s ever offered me.
“Rapha,” she breathes, her voice a threadbare whisper.
I lower my head, letting my lips brush hers, featherlight at first. A question.
When she doesn’t pull away, I deepen the kiss, pouring every moment of agony and longing and hope into it.
Her lips part for me, warm and yielding.
A groan rumbles from deep in my chest as our tongues tangle and I taste her again.
It’s familiar. It’s new. It’s everything.
I kiss her until we’re both breathless, until her hands clutch at my horns like she can anchor herself in me. I kiss her until she melts against me, soft and trusting, and my demon heart nearly breaks from the perfection of it.
When I finally pull back, she’s dazed and flushed, eyes glassy with emotion.
“I love you,” I murmur against her temple.
Her breath hitches, but her voice is fierce. “I love you, too.”
I gather her close and shift us farther onto the bed, pulling the covers around us. She sighs as I settle her against my chest, sliding one leg between mine. For a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like we’re back beneath the cliffs, tangled together, the world forgotten.
Sleep takes her quickly, exhaustion winning over fear. I watch her breathe, memorizing each rise and fall of her chest, each flutter of her lashes, the warmth of her skin.
Eventually, I close my eyes, holding her tightly through the night.
No nightmares find us.
When morning comes, a pale dawn pressing through the curtains, I stroke her hair gently and kiss her forehead.
“Drusilla,” I whisper. “Wake up, love.”
She stirs, blinking at me with a groggy smile that nearly undoes me.
“Do you feel strong enough?” I ask, careful to keep my voice soft. “There’s a world out there I’d like to show you. Screaming Woods is… strange. But I won’t let it harm you.”
She bites her lip, searching my eyes, then nods. “If you’re with me, Rapha, I can face anything.”
I smile—my first real, unguarded smile for centuries—and press a kiss to her lips before lifting her into my arms. “Then let me show you.” I lower her to her feet and thread our fingers together, tugging her toward the door.
I’m ready to face whatever waits beyond it.
Together. “Let me show you this new world.”
“Will it be cold?” she asks, plucking at the delicate cotton shift she’s still wearing.
I frown. She can’t go outside like that.
I snap my fingers, and she’s suddenly dressed in tight blue jeans, an emerald green blouse, and a pair of black Converse.
She’s adorably sexy, even in this modern attire.
I swallow hard. Fuck, those jeans do incredible things for her curves.
I want to trace my hands over her hips and cup her rounded ass, but she pushes away from me to stare at the clothes.
“You have this kind of power now?” she gasps, looking down at the silk blouse. “It’s so fine.”
“I have many new powers. I tried to resurrect you for centuries. I performed black magic, searched out ancient tomes, bargained and traded for anything that might offer me hope. Nothing worked until Lucifer gave me a solution I couldn’t refuse—to tempt humans into bargaining their souls for favors and reaping those souls when it was time to collect.
In exchange, he promised to resurrect you. ”
“You wanted me back that much? Loved me that much?” she asks softly.
My throat works around a knot so tight it feels like it might choke me. “More than you will ever comprehend,” I rasp. “Every moment you were gone was worse than death. I would have burned down heaven itself to have you in my arms again.”
I don’t tell her that with every soul I reap, I sink deeper into the darkness. That it pulls at me like the need for blood when I was a vampire. How many souls can I reap before I lose myself completely?
I push the thought away. I’d sacrifice myself a thousand times over to be exactly where I am right now, standing before my woman, her eyes shining with love and awe.
Slowly, Drusilla reaches out and brushes her fingers along my jaw, studying my horns, my crimson eyes, and the sharp lines of my demon form as if she’s memorizing me all over again.
“I don’t care what you’ve become,” she whispers. “You’re still mine.”
A rough, broken sound tears from my throat, half a growl, half a sob. I close the small distance between us and kiss her again, desperate and raw. She tastes like home, like hope. Like everything I’ve fought for.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers. “Stay close to me out there,” I warn, letting a bit of my demon edge bleed through. “Screaming Woods is…unpredictable. And you’re human now.”
Drusilla nods, her lips quirking faintly in a familiar, fearless smile. “I survived a Roman father, an arranged marriage, and death. I think I can survive Screaming Woods.”
Gods, I love this woman.
I press another kiss to her temple. “That’s my girl.”
She hesitates. “Won’t they, um, notice you out there?” Her head tilts to the right, and the gesture is so familiar and alluring that my poor, tiny demon heart misses a beat.
“This place is magical, my love. We’ll be the least noticeable of all the beings we’ll see outside, I assure you. Come on. You’re going to love this.”
I open the door, and we step into the hallway, ready to face the strange, dangerous wonderland of Screaming Woods, side by side.
Drusilla stands frozen outside the inn’s battered wooden door, clutching my hand like a lifeline, her eyes wide as they sweep over our surroundings.
It’s a place like no other—a town of curses and second chances, forever changed by magic that should never have touched mortal soil. An ancient magic pulses beneath the earth here and has spilled into the neighboring town of Fable Forest.
Signs adorn crooked buildings, their letters rearranging themselves as though the words can’t settle on a single truth. Gaslights burn in twisted iron sconces that seem to breathe with a faint, unnatural life. The street ripples as if it might shift direction underfoot at any moment.
And the people—Gods, the people.
They wander the square with an easy confidence that belies the monstrous power sleeping beneath their skin.
A centaur in ripped jeans. A girl with flowers growing from her hair.
A gargoyle perched lazily on the edge of a lamppost, his wings folded like a predator in wait.
A group of witches bargaining over candied apples at a market cart.
Children made of swirling shadow race each other across the square, their laughter impossibly bright.
Drusilla’s gaze follows them, her lips parting in wonder.
I watch as she takes it all in. Her breathing stutters, and her eyes widen with wonder, awe, and fear.
Then she lifts her chin with the same unbreakable courage that lured me to her centuries ago.
Even in this broken, enchanted town, where nightmares sleep with their eyes open, she is the bravest soul I have ever known.
“Rapha,” she breathes, “I don’t understand half of what I’m seeing.”
“You don’t have to,” I murmur, brushing my knuckles down her arm to steady her. “You just have to stay by my side.”
She turns to me then, and I see the spark in her dark eyes as they lock onto mine, that spark I thought I’d lost.
“Show me,” she says, voice steady even as her hands tremble. “Show me everything.”
My smile is sharp, hungry, and impossibly grateful as it tugs at the corner of my mouth. “As you wish, mea amora ,” I say, leading her down the crooked street.
“The noise…” Drusilla stumbles a little as we walk along the street.
“It must be overwhelming, but I promise, Screaming Woods will feel like home soon.” I squeeze her hand, noticing how small it feels in mine.
Everything about me is bigger now. Will she still be able to take me? She’s so tiny, so delicate, that it worries me. Would I rip her in two? Gods, will I last more than two seconds after a record-breaking period of abstinence?
We don’t make it far before Drusilla stops abruptly, tugging my hand with a surprising burst of strength. Her wide eyes fix on a shop across the square.
“The Spellbound Shelf,” she reads from the hand-carved wooden sign hanging above the door, its letters shifting and rearranging themselves in a lazy, almost playful script.
The warm golden glow spilling out of the front windows makes it look less threatening than the other shops on the street—a haven, almost.
Books, I think, watching her eyes soften with longing. She was always hungry for knowledge, desperate to read what the world tried to keep from her.
“Do you want to go in?” I ask, even though the answer is obvious.
She nods, a hint of that fire in her expression. “Please.”
I push the door open, a small chime ringing from somewhere high in the rafters. The smell of paper and ink wraps around us instantly, mingling with something richer—cinnamon and sugar from Conjure and Crumb , the bakery a few doors down.
The shelves seem to move on their own, adjusting their height to match the reader, shifting titles forward as though trying to tempt us with secrets.
Behind the long, scuffed counter stands a woman wearing a colorful maxi dress, her chestnut hair tied back with a silk ribbon. She looks up from a glowing parchment and greets us without a shred of fear, her dark blue eyes twinkling.
“Welcome to The Spellbound Shelf,” she greets. “I’m Alice. Let me know if anything calls to you. Sometimes, the books here have a mind of their own.”
Beside her, a man leans lazily against one of the bookcases, massive and broad-shouldered, with an easy grin. A beanie covers his head, which seems to move with a life of its own. Green eyes track me with a predator’s calm curiosity, telling me he sees beyond my enchantment to the demon beneath.
“Gordy,” he says, offering a nod. “Don’t mind the shelves. They like to test newcomers.”
“I’m Drusilla, and this is Rapha,” Drusilla introduces us.
“We’re…new in town,” I add, keeping it simple.
Drusilla steps closer to me, her voice barely a whisper as she asks, “They’re…like us?”
I smile faintly, pressing a reassuring kiss to her hair. “They’re safe, ” I murmur, sensing that’s true.
Alice’s eyes soften as she looks between us, and a quiet understanding seems to pass through her gaze. “Whatever you’re searching for,” she tells Drusilla gently, “you might find a piece of it here.”
Drusilla’s shoulders relax a little. She even lets out a tiny laugh when a slim green volume pops itself off a high shelf and drops into her waiting hands, its title, Where Shadow Meets Flame, shimmering in strange, archaic lettering.
Something eases inside me as her eyes light up with wonder, instead of fear, pushing back the darkness that has been crouching over my soul.
Maybe Screaming Woods wasn’t such a bad choice after all.