Page 15 of Demon's Dark Love

I find her in the rose garden, her auburn hair catching the afternoon light as she prunes a bush with meticulous care, sharpening the thorns as directed by the demon gardener.

The sight of her, so serene amid the chaos of my life, brings a strange calm to my turbulent thoughts. I step closer, my boots crunching on the gravel path.

She looks up, eyes widening slightly before she schools her expression. "Enoch," she says, her voice a soft murmur. "What are you doing here?"

"Needed some air," I lie, but she sees through it.

"Air, huh?" She arches an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Or maybe you’re hiding from your mother’s matchmaking schemes? I overheard some demons talking about it."

I chuckle, though the sound is bitter. "Vespera is not my type."

Lily sets down her shears and file and puts a bleeding finger into her mouth. I watch her finger disappear between her lips. Desire suddenly sweeps through me.

"So, what is your type then?" she asks, oblivious to the need that is filling me like fire.

"Does it matter?"

Her gaze sharpens and she reaches out, her fingers brushing mine. The touch sends a jolt through me, grounding me.

I grip her hand, drawing her closer. "I’ve figured out how to keep you here for a few days at least, in the garden. Away from Griselda and my mother’s eyes."

She blinks, surprise and gratitude flickering in her eyes. "Why would you do that for me?"

"Because," I say, my voice low, "you’re the only thing that makes sense."

Her eyes search mine, and she nods, a silent agreement passing between us.

The sound of another slave moving through the garden makes us step away, Lily bending to examine another plant.

I sit on a rock bench and watch Lily as she tends to the roses, her touch gentle yet purposeful. The sight of her soothes something raw inside me. But there’s an unsettling undercurrent.

"Enoch, are you alright?" Lily asks.

I force a smile. "Just tired."

"That's not very demon-like."

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "It’s rather new."

I hesitate, unsure how to explain this strange new weakness. "Lily, do you ever feel like you’re losing a part of yourself?"

She tilts her head, considering. "I’ve felt that way since I was taken from my village. But you, you’re losing your powers, aren’t you?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah. It’s like the more I care, the weaker I get."

Her hand reaches for mine, brushing the top of my knuckles gently before pulling her hand away and making sure we weren't seen. "Maybe it’s not a weakness. Maybe it’s something else."

"Like what?" I scoff, but her touch grounds me, makes me want to believe.

"Empathy," she says softly. "You’re changing, Enoch. You’re seeing the world differently."

"Empathy," I repeat, the word foreign on my tongue. "Demons aren’t supposed to have empathy."

"Then maybe that's the problem," she counters. "Your demon body is adjusting to human emotions and finding it exhausting, which I'm sorry to say is normal. Our empathy is both our power and our strength."

I look at her, truly look at her, and I see a type of existence that's utterly new, terrifying, but feels somehow right.

"I can’t summon fire as easily, my strength is waning.”

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