Page 19 of Devil Wears Nada
Van was quiet for a moment, his fingers still tracing patterns on my skin. “When I first fell to Earth, I thought it was the worst punishment imaginable. Stripped of my powers, my status, my immortality. What could be more terrible for Vanity personified than to become common?”
He shifted to look at me directly. “But I’ve discovered something unexpected. There’s nothing common about human existence. Every moment matters precisely because it’s finite. Beauty has deeper meaning because it fades. Love is precious because it’s fragile.” His hand found mine, entwining our fingers. “I choose this, Lucas. I choose you, and whatever time we have together, over endless empty centuries in Hell.”
I kissed him, unable to find words adequate to respond to such a declaration. When we parted, I simply said, “I love you too. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”
Van settled against my chest with a contented sigh. “Together. I like that word. It’s new for me.”
As the afternoon light painted golden patterns across our entwined bodies, I marveled at the impossible journey thathad brought us here. A naked demon falling from the sky had somehow become the most real, most meaningful relationship of my life.
Tomorrow we would meet with Julian Vega about the collection. Next week we would begin planning our next designs. In the months and years to come, we would build a life together, one stitch at a time.
And if Hell came knocking? Well, they’d have to deal with both of us.
Chapter 11
“Stop fidgeting,” I told Van, adjusting his collar for the third time. “You look perfect.”
“Of course I do,” he replied automatically, but his usual confidence seemed forced. “It’s not my appearance I’m concerned about.”
Three months to the day since Van had fallen into my life, we were preparing for the launch party of our collection at Moda Vega. The collaboration had exceeded all expectations—Julian had been so impressed with our initial designs that he’d given us a featured spot in his prestigious boutique and thrown his considerable influence behind promoting our work.
“Everything is ready,” I assured him, understanding his nerves. “The collection is exquisite, the venue is immaculate, and the guest list includes every fashion influencer in Los Angeles.”
Van nodded, but continued to glance anxiously at his reflection in our bedroom mirror—the only mirror in the apartment that hadn’t needed replacement in weeks. As his transformation to human had progressed, his more destructive supernatural tendencies had diminished, though not disappeared entirely.
“It’s not the party I’m worried about,” he finally admitted, turning away from his reflection to face me. “I had another dream last night.”
My stomach tightened. For the past week, Van had been experiencing what we both suspected were more than ordinary dreams—visions, perhaps, or warnings from his former realm.
“The same one?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual as I selected a tie from my drawer.
“Similar. Flames, darkness, voices speaking in the old tongue.” He sat on the edge of our bed, suddenly looking exhausted. “Lucas, I think they’re coming for me. Tonight.”
I abandoned the tie selection to sit beside him, taking his hand in mine. In the past month since our mutual confession of love, Van had become increasingly human—sleeping, eating, even catching a cold that had left him dramatically bemoaning his mortal fragility for three full days. But with these physical changes came a concerning development: a growing sense that Hell had noticed his transformation and disapproved.
“We don’t know that for certain,” I said, though I didn’t entirely believe my own reassurance.
“There was something new in the dream last night,” Van continued, squeezing my hand. “A throne—my throne—occupied by another. Dagon, Prince of Envy.” His mouth twisted with irony. “Rather fitting, I suppose. He always did covet my position.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means they’ve replaced me. Which could be good news—they’ve moved on, found another to fulfill my role in the hierarchy.” He hesitated. “Or it could mean they’re now free to deal with me as a rogue element rather than a wayward prince.”
The implications hung heavy between us. We’d spent weeks researching supernatural lore, trying to understand what might happen as Van fully transitioned to human, but information was scarce and often contradictory.
“Whatever comes,” I said firmly, “we’ll face it together. We’ve discussed this.”
Van smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, your plan to fight the forces of Hell with a pair of fabric scissors and unwavering determination. Very reassuring.”
“Hey,” I nudged his shoulder with mine, “don’t underestimate me. I once talked Mrs. Hemsworth out of pairing chartreuse with magenta. If I can handle that diplomatic nightmare, I can handle a few demons.”
That earned a genuine laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “My brave, foolish human.” He leaned in to kiss me softly. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Probably not,” I agreed with a grin, “but you’re stuck with me anyway.”
We finished dressing for the event in companionable silence, though I could feel Van’s anxiety like a physical presence in the room. He wore the centerpiece of our collection—a midnight blue suit with subtle architectural details that made him look both regal and approachable, with that color-shifting thread worked throughout that seemed to capture light and transform it.
I chose a complementary outfit in deeper blue with silver accents, designed to establish us as partners while letting Van shine as the true showpiece. Despite his increasingly human status, he still possessed a beauty that demanded attention.
