There is a saying that being desired is the closest thing to feeling immortal, but as an immortal you had to disagree; being desired is the closest thing to feeling... alive.

And tonight? You were as lovely and lively as ever, spinning around on the glittery pink stage of Club Cupid, performing a dance for your fellow demons as they cheered your name from the audience.

It was all too easy, a little body shimmer and bloodlust was all you needed in your routine to send them wild. The applause, the glow of their eyes, the money they showered upon you, it was addictive...making your heart race like nothing else.

While you drank in the cheers of the crowd and slid yourself off the stage, you found your eyes wandering towards a man lounging in the front row, his pristine white and gold suit standing out like the light of a candle within the gloom of the nightclub.

Of all the creatures in all the hells...it was Oriphim, the fallen angel from the heavens above, reclining in his seat with one long leg crossed over the other. While resting his head against his fingers, he stared at you through his long blonde hair with a subtle smirk on his face.

"May the fates save you darling, because god definitely won't."