Page 54 of Midnight with the Devil

Diana held out a hand as a butterfly flew past, and it landed on the back of it. She looked at the insect and then Lucien, trying to compose her words. It was almost impossible to explain.

“You’re immortal. You never die,” she said. “But I will…someday. All things in this world die except for you. Death is frightening and permanent. When I see something so fragile, so beautiful, and I see it has only a short life, it makes me appreciate its beauty all the more. Like snowflakes. You catch one and you have but a few seconds to see the intricate, one of a kind pattern before it melts away. There’s a tragic perfection in that. I don’t know if I’m explaining this well…” She tried to ignore the heat flaming her face.

“I think I understand.” Lucien was watching her, not with hunger, not with wicked intent, but with a sort of sorrow and true understanding that made her heart ache. Did he know that he’d once been a beautiful thing, unique and precious to God before he’d fallen? Diana couldn’t but wonder if he ever thought of it. Or perhaps he thought too much of it, and the reason he basked in the darkness of his existence was to forget the world of light he’d come from.

“Everything on the earth has the potential for beauty,” she continued. “The mountains that will last long after I’m gone and this butterfly whose lifespan is only an instant compared to mine. Life itself is beautiful, eternal. It always goes on, always renews after death. It’s a promise that there is no true ending of things.” The monarch took flight, and Diana sat down in the thick grass beside one of the trees and watched the butterflies. After a long moment, Lucien eased down beside her. She reached over and covered his hand with hers, and to her relief he didn’t pull away.

“When I was…” He cleared his throat. “Before I fell, I used to love the earth and the riches of life here. It’s so easy to become blinded by rage and hatred and forget to see beauty.”

“Lucien, why did you fall?” She’d heard all the myths—the devil had his pride, the devil was jealous—but she wanted to see and hear his perspective.

He watched the forest and the monarchs for a long time before he responded.

“Fear. I fell because I was afraid. Father created the universe and the angels. I thought he was content with us, but I was wrong. He made humanity, and I saw that his love for humans was stronger than his love for me. I was afraid his love for me would fade and that I would become nothing in the universe. Hate and anger always come from fear. And I feared humans more than anything because they lessened my own relevance to my father.” He turned his hand over so that their hands could link, and he laced his fingers through hers, staring at their joined palms.

“Everyone needs to have a purpose and to feel loved. That makes you human.” She pointed this out softly, hoping it wouldn’t upset him. She brushed the tips of her fingers over his palm with her free hand, trying to show him that she cared.

“Me, human.” He shook his head ruefully. “What gives you a purpose? What drives you, Diana?”

For a long moment she didn’t answer. She continued to stroke her fingers over his hand, admiring the powerful, elegant fingers entwined with her own.

“I like to design houses. I love architecture. It’s about giving someone a place so they can come back at the end of a bad day, or a great day, and feel safe and at ease with their surroundings. I want to be the person who creates not just houses, buthomes.” She took in the dancing butterflies around her as she came to a realization. Home didn’t have to be a place, not always. Sometimes home could be a person you loved. She glanced up at Lucien. His eyes were half-closed as though the pleasure her touch was giving him was soothing, like a cat stretched out on the carpet beneath a band of sunlight.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said. “If you were trapped on a desert island, what movie would you watch?”

His question surprised her, and she laughed. The sound startled several nearby butterflies, and they took flight in a dazzling display of orange and black.

“You’re asking me a desert island question?”

“Yes, why is that so funny?” he demanded, his gaze betraying that he was a little hurt at her amusement.

“It’s…never mind. Why would I bring a movie to a desert island? I wouldn’t have anything to watch it on.”

“Very well, a book then?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Twilight.”

“No. Absolutely not,” he growled.

“What? You don’t like vampires?”

“Actually, I don’t. They’re all broody and dramatic.”

“Amara said vampires are real. Is that true?” she asked. It had been one of her burning questions.

“Yes, and so are werewolves and a lot of other…things.”

“Wow.”

“So, any book other thanTwilight. What would it be?”

“The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova.” She bit her lip to hide a smile as he suddenly frowned, and before she could react, he pounced on her, tackling her back on the soft grass, pinning her beneath his masculine body.

“Another vampire book? Do I need to manifest some fangs and bite your pretty neck to arouse you?” He licked his lips and leaned down to kiss her neck. She squealed when he nipped her throat just hard enough to feel his teeth. And to her shock, a flood of wet heat pooled between her thighs.

“Interesting,” Lucien murmured as he nibbled her earlobe.

She moaned as he moved his lips to hers and explored her mouth with a slow, decadent kiss. The kiss was sweet yet sinful, and she couldn’t deny that this man, this fallen angel, filled her with a wild lust. She knew that to tempt him was dangerous, not physically but emotionally. The more time she spent around him, the more addicted to him she became.

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