Page 26 of Where the Dark Knelt (Worshipped by Darkness #1)

She had gone to that monastery out of desperation. To find meaning, or maybe to punish herself for wanting. But after ten years… I knew she felt it too. That it wasn’t the path meant for her. She had a future ahead of her.

And I hoped… no, I knew.

I would be in that future.

Stepping out onto the race track, I swung my leg over my favorite bike, freshly checked and tuned by the center’s mechanics. The engine roared to life beneath me, vibrating through my bones like a living creature. I guided it smoothly to the starting line, my gloved hands steady on the handlebars.

Today would be a wonderful day. I could feel it deep in my soul.

Yes, demons had souls too. Different from human souls, woven from another plane of existence entirely, but souls nonetheless.

People liked to think we were hollow or empty, that we only existed to carry out our destinies – to tempt, to consume, to corrupt.

But it wasn’t that simple. Sometimes… I wanted more.

Something beyond carnal games, beyond the hunger that burned eternally within me.

I wanted sincerity. Love, untainted by bargains or lust or power.

With Eveline… I thought, just maybe, I could have that.

She felt different. She wanted something deeper too, though she denied it even to herself.

She yearned for love, true connection, for someone to see the hidden corners of her heart and still want her entirely.

But she locked it away behind her prayers and robes and quiet discipline.

I wanted to connect with her. Body and soul. I wanted to take her soul into mine… to bind her to my eternal existence, to make her something greater than she ever dreamed she could be.

To make her mine, forever.

And who would refuse such an offer? Immortality, power, freedom from the weight of human decay.

But somehow… I thought she might.

And so I watched. Year after year, I watched her from the shadows, seducing her slowly, whispering into her dreams, weaving my presence into her every thought. But for now… for now, she hadn’t yet succumbed to my demonic charms.

Not yet.

Of course, I won the race today. There was never really any other outcome.

As always, they invited me to another victory party – drinks, laughter, the same endless chatter, the same empty congratulations.

Over the years, these parties blurred together into a single dull memory, nothing but fleeting moments of pleasure that left no mark on my soul.

Tonight, I decided not to waste my time there. Instead, I chose something far more precious.

I spent the evening watching Eveline again.

It had become my favorite ritual, far more exhilarating than racing at breakneck speed or basking in human praise.

Observing her was… calming. Fascinating.

Addictive. Watching her go about her day, seeing the thoughts flicker across her delicate features, feeling the soft brush of her dreams against my senses when she fell asleep…

it all became more interesting than my own existence. And that terrified me.

I had spent so long wanting to claim her soul.

To consume it, to weave it into my being and make it mine.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

It began to feel as if she could take my soul instead…

if there was such a thing for a demon like me.

The thought was terrifying. But it was also… intoxicating.

I found her tonight at the hot springs. Not the manicured springs where wealthy visitors or senior sisters sometimes went to ease their aging bodies, but the wild springs hidden deeper in the forest. Few nuns ventured there, but Eveline…

she had discovered this secret place for herself.

Perhaps it called to her the way it called to me.

She knelt by the steaming waters, picking flowers that grew along the edges of the springs.

Ashen roses. Their petals were a ghostly gray-white, tinted with the faintest flicker of red at their tips.

I remembered them from my world. Back home, these roses thrived along volcanic lakes, their roots drinking in heat and sulfur, their petals glowing with trapped embers of the underworld.

They suited her somehow, these flowers that burned silently from within, holding their flames hidden beneath pale softness.

She often collected them in a simple clay vase by her bedside, admiring them at night when their tips glowed with the faint light of red phosphorus.

Like roses risen from the ashes, still carrying a secret ember in their hearts. Burning quietly… just like her.

Watching her among the ashen roses, her delicate hands brushing their glowing petals, I felt something stir in my chest, something dangerously close to tenderness.

I wanted to reach out and touch her hair, to feel its softness slide between my fingers.

I wanted to take that glowing warmth and make it mine, to consume it, to merge it with my darkness.

But for tonight, I simply watched. Because seeing her there, surrounded by pale roses glowing like dying coals, steam rising around her like a veil, was more beautiful than any victory I had ever won.

And that terrified me too.

Eveline knelt by the hot spring’s edge, her lithe form clad in a gossamer white cotton nightgown that seemed to float upon the shimmering water’s surface.

As she reached out with scissors to clip a rose stem submerged beneath the steaming, rippling water, the damp fabric clung to her curves, translucent in the dappled moonlight.

The heat of the spring mist rose around her, and as she leaned further, the drenched nightgown molded to her breasts, the rosy peaks of her nipples straining against the clinging cotton.

“Damn, Eveline...” I growled under my breath, my jaw clenching as a surge of primal desire coursed through me.

My hand moved as if possessed, seeking out the concealed fastenings of my leather pants.

The whole day, I had been coiled tight with unspent arousal, and the sight of water droplets cascading down her stomach, thighs and over the swell of her breasts proved my undoing.

My rigid length throbbed urgently against the confines of my trousers, demanding freedom.

I could no longer deny the base instincts screaming for release, the visceral need to claim her, to bury myself in her welcoming heat until we both found sweet oblivion.

The last vestiges of restraint slipped away, and I surrendered to the all-consuming hunger, a predator stalking my prey in the moonlit night.

Eveline took one of the roses she had just cut and placed it gently into her woven basket beside her.

The delicate petals brushed against the others, their faint ember glow lighting up the basket’s interior with an almost sacred warmth.

Then she leaned forward again, her hair falling like a dark curtain around her flushed cheeks as she reached for another rose growing just beyond the edge of the spring.

She bent down with her small silver scissors, focusing on cutting the stem at the perfect angle. I shifted slightly, moving to a better vantage point, and my breath caught in my throat.

The thin cotton of her robe clung to her completely now, soaked through by the hot spring’s mist and droplets that fell from her fingertips.

Beneath the wet fabric, I could see the outline of her panties, the faint lace trimming them, pressed close against her skin.

She was already soaked… her thighs glistened with moisture and warmth, and for a moment, I could almost feel that heat myself.

Slowly, deliberately, I moved my hand down to my crotch, gripping the hard length that throbbed with an aching need for her.

My breath came in quiet, controlled exhales as I began to stroke myself, my thumb brushing over the sensitive tip with each upward pull.

The sight of her bent over like that, oblivious to my gaze, so sweet and so close, made the desire pulse hotter in my veins.

My eyes traced the curve of her hips, the soft dip of her waist, the damp cloth outlining everything I craved to touch.

She paused to adjust the hem of her robe, tugging it down distractedly as if aware of her exposed state, but it only made the fabric cling tighter against her ass.

I let out a quiet, ragged breath as I stroked myself harder, my other hand gripping the tree trunk beside me for balance.

She was beautiful. She was mine.

Even if she didn’t yet know it.

I imagined how it would feel to step out of the shadows and approach her, to slide my hands over her soaked robe, to press myself against her trembling body as I whispered her name against her ear.

She would gasp in that soft, choked way she did in her sleep when I visited her dreams…

her soul already called out for me, even if her conscious mind denied it.

I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining her scent mixed with the sulfur and roses, the wet heat of her thighs parting for me, her lips trembling with desperate prayers to a god who would not answer. Because tonight, there was only me.

And as I stroked myself to the rhythm of her gentle movements, the thought that pulsed through me with every throbbing heartbeat was simple:

Soon, Eveline. Very soon, you will be mine entirely.

But the smile on her face… nothing could overshadow it.

Even here, bathed only in the pale glow of the moon and the faint flicker of the ashen roses in her basket, she shone brighter than any starlight.

It was as if her very soul illuminated the night, a quiet, untouchable divinity woven into flesh.

She looked like she didn’t belong to this mundane world at all, like a goddess strayed from her celestial realm, or an ancient Fae Queen lost beyond the veil of dimensions, wandering alone among mortals.