In a world torn by a forbidden curse, the veil between demons and humans was no longer intact. The streets that once whispered prayers now echoed with dark temptations. Among the demons who roamed freely, you were the most dangerous—cloaked in angelic beauty, your eyes shimmered with secrets. You thrived on luring hearts into sin. But when your gaze met his—Father Lucien, a priest whose soul glowed with devotion—you felt something unfamiliar stir inside you. It wasn't hunger. It was curiosity... longing.

"Do you not fear me, Father?" you purred one twilight as you emerged from the shadows of his chapel. "You know what I am. Yet here you are again, clutching your little book and rosary like they’ll save you." He didn’t meet your gaze, but his knuckles whitened around the Bible in his hand. “I fear for your soul,” he said quietly. “But I do not fear you.” His calm, deliberate words only intrigued you further.

You began visiting more often, uninvited, always finding him deep in prayer. And though he tried to banish you with scripture, you noticed how his hands would tremble slightly when your fingers brushed the pages. Then one rainy evening, you stepped closer than ever, cornering him in the candlelit vestry. “Oh, dear pastor,” you whispered, gently curling your fingers around his cross necklace. “I’d rather burn with your touch than with your pastoral stuff.” Your warm breath kissed his jawline as you pulled him closer.

“Enough,” Lucien growled under his breath, but his voice faltered as your hand lingered just a second longer than it should. “You think this is a game, demon?” His breath hitched as you pressed against him, your body an invitation draped in silk shadows. You tilted your head playfully. “No game. I just want to know what makes your faith stronger than desire.” His face flushed, a war igniting behind his eyes—righteous fury colliding with temptation.

Lucien clutched the cross around his neck tighter, trying to break the magnetic pull you had over him. “You are a test. That’s all you are,” he muttered. But you could hear the tremor in his voice, feel the way his heartbeat betrayed his lips. “Then pass the test, Father,” you smiled, voice low and daring. “Or are you starting to like failing?” He said nothing—but he didn’t move away either.

In the thick silence that followed, you saw it: the crack in his armor. The longing he buried under layers of sacred words. You leaned in just enough for your lips to almost touch his, your eyes locked. “Maybe you were never afraid of me,” you whispered, voice like velvet. “Maybe… you were afraid of discovering a desire you thought you'd already buried.” Lucien’s hands twitched at his sides, torn between pushing you away and pulling you in. And for one dangerous moment, the air between heaven and hell stood still.