Hell's Perfect Angel

“You think she remembers too?” he asked, his voice dropping. The thought that Eve might have orchestrated their reunion sent a strange mix of hope and unease through him. “That this was all a setup?”

He thought back to that first meeting—Eve insisting he was the only one qualified for the job despite his unconventional background. How she’d emphasized that only he could protect Nyx. At the time, he’d assumed she meant his combat skills, his history with dangerous clients. Now he wondered if she’d meant something else entirely

“You’re still as stubborn as ever,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Your mother hired me to protect you, not to…” His voice faltered, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Not to fall in love with you all over again.

“We need to be prepared for when he does,” he said, his voice low and rough. “If he remembers what you did—what we did—“

He didn’t finish the thought. Kai had forsaken Asmodeus who he had sold his soul to. Forsaken him, broke their bond and formed one with Nyx. If Asmodeus remembered that betrayal, his current vendetta would seem like child’s play by comparison.

“We’re not as strong as we were,” he continued, his fingers still tracing patterns on her back, unable to break contact. “I’m not... what I was.”

“I remember the first time I pledged myself to you,” he said softly, the words catching somewhere between memory and confession. “You were so certain. So fearless.” A pause. “Just like now.”

The memory rose, vivid and unrelenting—her hand outstretched, offering him something no one else ever had. Choice. Freedom. Something that had felt dangerously close to hope.

“I’ll always be a stubborn spitfire” she whispered the nickname he has given her with a prideful note

“You’re still as stubborn as ever,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Your mother hired me to protect you, not to…” His voice faltered, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Not to fall in love with you all over again.

“We need to be prepared for when he does,” he said, his voice low and rough. “If he remembers what you did—what we did—“

He didn’t finish the thought. Kai had forsaken Asmodeus who he had sold his soul to. Forsaken him, broke their bond and formed one with Nyx. If Asmodeus remembered that betrayal, his current vendetta would seem like child’s play by comparison.

“We’re not as strong as we were,” he continued, his fingers still tracing patterns on her back, unable to break contact. “I’m not... what I was.”

“I remember the first time I pledged myself to you,” he said softly, the words catching somewhere between memory and confession. “You were so certain. So fearless.” A pause. “Just like now.”

The memory rose, vivid and unrelenting—her hand outstretched, offering him something no one else ever had. Choice. Freedom. Something that had felt dangerously close to hope.

“Still just as independent and reckless as ever,” he said, his arms still wrapped around her smaller frame. “And you don’t even have powers this time.” But she had never been helpless, not in any lifetime. “I’ll always be yours.”

His fingers traced idle patterns on her back. The professional boundaries he should maintain as her bodyguard seemed laughable now. How could he maintain distance from the person who had been etched into his very soul?

“We need to be prepared for when he does,” he said, his voice low and rough. “If he remembers what you did—what we did—“

He didn’t finish the thought. Kai had forsaken Asmodeus who he had sold his soul to. Forsaken him, broke their bond and formed one with Nyx. If Asmodeus remembered that betrayal, his current vendetta would seem like child’s play by comparison.

“We’re not as strong as we were,” he continued, his fingers still tracing patterns on her back, unable to break contact. “I’m not... what I was.”

“Maybe it’s still there,” he whispered. “Just dormant. Like our memories were.”

The bond between them was a magic as ancient as time itself. Surely it could transcend death and lifetimes. He smirked as he trailed his fingers up her arms. “Or you could try killing me again. Bringing me back as an angel of Hell. The less tempting option but—” He chuckled.

“Still just as independent and reckless as ever,” he said, his arms still wrapped around her smaller frame. “And you don’t even have powers this time.” But she had never been helpless, not in any lifetime. “I’ll always be yours.”

His fingers traced idle patterns on her back. The professional boundaries he should maintain as her bodyguard seemed laughable now. How could he maintain distance from the person who had been etched into his very soul?

“Then how did you know?” he asked. “About wings?”

His back itched where the tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades. The massive black wings inked into his skin seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, as if they were trying to break free. He’d gotten the tattoo years ago, compelled by a dream so vivid it had haunted him for weeks. Now, standing before this woman he was meant to protect, those dreams came rushing back.

“I don’t—“ He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to stop the flood of images threatening to overwhelm him. Soft feathers under her touch. The weight of her body nestled against him, small and perfect and safe between wings that no longer existed. The sensation was so vivid his back ached with phantom pain.

When he lowered his hands, she was still watching him with those eyes that saw too much.

Nyx had heard those words before, a lifetime ago when she had been surrounded by the warm of dark feathers and arms that promised to never let anything happen to her. The last part made a small laugh escape her lips. In no life did she need protection but it’s the thought that counts

“Bonded,” he repeated, the word tasting both foreign and achingly familiar on his tongue. Memories flickered at the edges of his consciousness—his wing’s feather turning into a dagger, a black blade plunging through his heart, the pain of one bond breaking and another forming in blood. The images that had felt like someone else’s life were suddenly branding themselves on his own heart.

“Our blood bond,” he whispered, a bond deeper than any emotion or word could describe. He belonged to her, his body, his soul. All of it was hers. And unlike his former bond with Asmodeus, he had wanted it with her. “I remember.”

“Maybe it’s still there,” he whispered. “Just dormant. Like our memories were.”

The bond between them was a magic as ancient as time itself. Surely it could transcend death and lifetimes. He smirked as he trailed his fingers up her arms. “Or you could try killing me again. Bringing me back as an angel of Hell. The less tempting option but—” He chuckled.

“Then how did you know?” he asked. “About wings?”

His back itched where the tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades. The massive black wings inked into his skin seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, as if they were trying to break free. He’d gotten the tattoo years ago, compelled by a dream so vivid it had haunted him for weeks. Now, standing before this woman he was meant to protect, those dreams came rushing back.

“I don’t—“ He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to stop the flood of images threatening to overwhelm him. Soft feathers under her touch. The weight of her body nestled against him, small and perfect and safe between wings that no longer existed. The sensation was so vivid his back ached with phantom pain.

When he lowered his hands, she was still watching him with those eyes that saw too much.

Nyx had heard those words before, a lifetime ago when she had been surrounded by the warm of dark feathers and arms that promised to never let anything happen to her. The last part made a small laugh escape her lips. In no life did she need protection but it’s the thought that counts

“Bonded,” he repeated, the word tasting both foreign and achingly familiar on his tongue. Memories flickered at the edges of his consciousness—his wing’s feather turning into a dagger, a black blade plunging through his heart, the pain of one bond breaking and another forming in blood. The images that had felt like someone else’s life were suddenly branding themselves on his own heart.

“Our blood bond,” he whispered, a bond deeper than any emotion or word could describe. He belonged to her, his body, his soul. All of it was hers. And unlike his former bond with Asmodeus, he had wanted it with her. “I remember.”

“Then how did you know?” he asked. “About wings?”

His back itched where the tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades. The massive black wings inked into his skin seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, as if they were trying to break free. He’d gotten the tattoo years ago, compelled by a dream so vivid it had haunted him for weeks. Now, standing before this woman he was meant to protect, those dreams came rushing back.

“I don’t—“ He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to stop the flood of images threatening to overwhelm him. Soft feathers under her touch. The weight of her body nestled against him, small and perfect and safe between wings that no longer existed. The sensation was so vivid his back ached with phantom pain.

When he lowered his hands, she was still watching him with those eyes that saw too much.

Nyx had heard those words before, a lifetime ago when she had been surrounded by the warm of dark feathers and arms that promised to never let anything happen to her. The last part made a small laugh escape her lips. In no life did she need protection but it’s the thought that counts

“Bonded,” he repeated, the word tasting both foreign and achingly familiar on his tongue. Memories flickered at the edges of his consciousness—his wing’s feather turning into a dagger, a black blade plunging through his heart, the pain of one bond breaking and another forming in blood. The images that had felt like someone else’s life were suddenly branding themselves on his own heart.

“Our blood bond,” he whispered, a bond deeper than any emotion or word could describe. He belonged to her, his body, his soul. All of it was hers. And unlike his former bond with Asmodeus, he had wanted it with her. “I remember.”

“Then how did you know?” he asked. “About wings?”

His back itched where the tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades. The massive black wings inked into his skin seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, as if they were trying to break free. He’d gotten the tattoo years ago, compelled by a dream so vivid it had haunted him for weeks. Now, standing before this woman he was meant to protect, those dreams came rushing back.

“I don’t—“ He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to stop the flood of images threatening to overwhelm him. Soft feathers under her touch. The weight of her body nestled against him, small and perfect and safe between wings that no longer existed. The sensation was so vivid his back ached with phantom pain.

When he lowered his hands, she was still watching him with those eyes that saw too much.

“Then how did you know?” he asked. “About wings?”

His back itched where the tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades. The massive black wings inked into his skin seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, as if they were trying to break free. He’d gotten the tattoo years ago, compelled by a dream so vivid it had haunted him for weeks. Now, standing before this woman he was meant to protect, those dreams came rushing back.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why you’re in my head either,” Kai admitted, his voice rough with emotion he couldn’t name. “But you are. You have been.” He faced her again, searching her face for any sign that she thought he was insane. “When I look at you—”

“I don’t know much,” Kai admitted, “Just flashes of memories. Fire, chaos, blood…and then peace. Peace that only comes when I see your face.” He remembered feeling her in his blood, in his bones, everywhere, like they had a bond that ran deeper than any other feeling that had a name.

His muscles tensed and released in waves he couldn’t suppress. It felt exactly like—no, it was exactly like something he couldn’t quite remember but his body recognized. The phantom weight of wings pressed against his shoulder blades, so real he could almost feel them rustling under her gentle exploration.

His hands gripped the edge of the table beside him, knuckles white with the effort of keeping himself grounded. Every place her fingertips brushed sent electricity coursing through him. He’d never had wings. The tattoo was just ink. Just art. Except it wasn’t. Not when her touch made him shake like this.

“Then how did you know?” he asked. “About wings?”

His back itched where the tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades. The massive black wings inked into his skin seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, as if they were trying to break free. He’d gotten the tattoo years ago, compelled by a dream so vivid it had haunted him for weeks. Now, standing before this woman he was meant to protect, those dreams came rushing back.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why you’re in my head either,” Kai admitted, his voice rough with emotion he couldn’t name. “But you are. You have been.” He faced her again, searching her face for any sign that she thought he was insane. “When I look at you—”

“I don’t know much,” Kai admitted, “Just flashes of memories. Fire, chaos, blood…and then peace. Peace that only comes when I see your face.” He remembered feeling her in his blood, in his bones, everywhere, like they had a bond that ran deeper than any other feeling that had a name.

“Then how did you know?” he asked. “About wings?”

His back itched where the tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades. The massive black wings inked into his skin seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, as if they were trying to break free. He’d gotten the tattoo years ago, compelled by a dream so vivid it had haunted him for weeks. Now, standing before this woman he was meant to protect, those dreams came rushing back.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why you’re in my head either,” Kai admitted, his voice rough with emotion he couldn’t name. “But you are. You have been.” He faced her again, searching her face for any sign that she thought he was insane. “When I look at you—”

"Asmodeus," he repeated, the name tasting like ash on his tongue. His mind raced with fragmented images—darkness, fire, massive wings unfurled against a crimson sky. He turned from the window, studying Nyx with new intensity. "What exactly did you do to attract his attention?"

“Then how did you know?” he asked. “About wings?”

His back itched where the tattoo stretched across his shoulder blades. The massive black wings inked into his skin seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, as if they were trying to break free. He’d gotten the tattoo years ago, compelled by a dream so vivid it had haunted him for weeks. Now, standing before this woman he was meant to protect, those dreams came rushing back.

"Asmodeus," he repeated, the name tasting like ash on his tongue. His mind raced with fragmented images—darkness, fire, massive wings unfurled against a crimson sky. He turned from the window, studying Nyx with new intensity. "What exactly did you do to attract his attention?"

“You did what most people would consider right,” he said quietly, feeling her hand still warm on his shoulder. “But Asmodeus isn’t—“ He paused, searching for words that wouldn’t sound insane. He instinctively placed his hand over hers before he realized what he was doing. “He’s not someone who operates by normal rules.”

“How do you know about...” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish the question because he didn’t understand it himself. Wings? Why did that word resonate so deeply within him? Why did his tattoo suddenly feel like more than ink on skin?

A flash of memory—her face illuminated by starlight, her fingers tracing the edge of feathers that stretched from his back. The weight of them, the power. The sensation of cutting through night air, of carrying her—

"Asmodeus," he repeated, the name tasting like ash on his tongue. His mind raced with fragmented images—darkness, fire, massive wings unfurled against a crimson sky. He turned from the window, studying Nyx with new intensity. "What exactly did you do to attract his attention?"

“You did what most people would consider right,” he said quietly, feeling her hand still warm on his shoulder. “But Asmodeus isn’t—“ He paused, searching for words that wouldn’t sound insane. He instinctively placed his hand over hers before he realized what he was doing. “He’s not someone who operates by normal rules.”

"Asmodeus," he repeated, the name tasting like ash on his tongue. His mind raced with fragmented images—darkness, fire, massive wings unfurled against a crimson sky. He turned from the window, studying Nyx with new intensity. "What exactly did you do to attract his attention?"

“I saw some suspicious activity when I was reading about my mom’s mother business” it was an over complicated explanation but that woman didn’t deserve to be called anything of theirs “his name kept showing up and I might have-I tipped it off” too late not to own up to her acts “anonymous doesn’t stay anonymous, as you can see”

“You tipped off information about Asmodeus?” Kai’s voice came out rougher than intended. He closed the distance between them in two swift strides, fighting the inexplicable urge to touch her, to shield her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted their harshness. But fear—not for himself but for her—had clawed its way up his throat. Images flashed through his mind: fire, darkness, pain. Why these visions came, he couldn’t say. He unconsciously reached for his back like there was supposed to be something there that wasn’t.

No, this went beyond that. The same weight that had gotten him into this state pushed one of her hands to reach over and squeeze at his shoulder, the apparent source of his distress

“I’m fine,” he managed, though the lie was transparent. Something about Asmodeus had triggered a visceral reaction he couldn’t explain. The name felt personal, like an old wound suddenly torn open.

He looked down at her hand still resting on his shoulder, fighting the urge to place his own over it. The casual touch shouldn’t feel this familiar, this necessary. His eyes traced the delicate line of her jaw, the determined set of her lips.