My Boyfriend Is a Demon
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Shandra almost lost her life, but was saved by a fantastic mystical creature: twisted black wings, a horn on each temple, glowing embers that follow him with every step he takes... And a beautiful and delicious body, perfect in every inch. Now she owes a debt to this being of darkness, but she does not feel threatened or coerced. No, there is nothing scary or dark about Shandra's feelings for him. Destiny is set, the cards are on the table, and history is about to be written. What will she do with the handsome demon, the most unlikely of heroes?
The dark, moonless dawn was only a mere detail of how horrible that day had been.
Walking slowly down the sidewalk, feeling the tears falling down her cheeks without bothering to dry them, Shandra thought about what she would do with the painful life unfolding in front of her.
The young woman tried to stop the sobbing that rose up her throat, but could not. Then she began to cry openly like a child, holding the medallion tightly under her shirt.
The three events of the day flashed through his mind for the thousandth time, like a cruel and sad movie replaying on the television.
First: her arch enemy and rival, Sasha Royal, had made Shandra suffer a huge embarrassment in the cafeteria, humiliating her in front of everyone in the school.
Second: her favorite teacher, the handsome and friendly Mr. Rinkons, died of a massive heart attack on his way to school.
And third: the man she thought to be her friend, confidant and possible fiancé in the near future, the athlete and now ex-boyfriend Ryan, had left her. And the explanation was the worst possible: he was confused and didn't really know what he wanted.
Shandra spent the rest of the day wandering around, not wanting to talk to anyone. She never had any friends, with the exception of Ryan, and any attempt to get close to some of her classmates was obviously ruled out.
She didn't want to go to the house either. For what? For her drunkard father to yell in her face, accusing her of some more nonsense? Or to hear her mother's harsh criticism of her way of dressing, speaking, behaving and existing?
No. It would be better to just keep on walking. The headphones were on full volume, trying to make the world outside as far away from the girl's already troubled mind as possible.
Shandra heard someone calling her, but she ignored it. The voice insisted, and she heard a weird noise to her right.
Turning her head, the girl saw that a car was driving slowly practically beside her. Inside, some men were drinking, laughing and enjoying themselves. The man calling her was particularly huge, especially in his shapely arms.
"Why are you so alone out there, princess? Don't you know how dangerous that is?"
The woman turned her head again, walking a little faster this time. Inevitably, the black car sped up a bit, following her.
"Hey, princess, don't be so mean to us. We just want to help."
Laughter accompanies him. Shandra is now no longer thinking about the last events of the day, but rather whether she will be able to survive to see a next one.
The park's wide tree-lined sidewalk offers no shelter or safety. In a panic, the thin girl with straight black hair starts to run.
Not knowing what to do, she runs into the tangle of trees, bushes and other wild vegetation that spreads out in front of her in a limited perimeter. She stumbles over some tree roots, hearing the car's engine turn off and the strangers get out of it.
Shandra covers her mouth with one hand, trying not to attract the men with the sound of her crying, but the sound of branches being trampled hard by her shoes gives her away like a beacon in the dark night. Gasping for air, the girl continues on a mad dash.
Her sense of direction is completely lost. She doesn't know whether she is going north or south, and every time she has to avoid a plant, root or bush, Shandra becomes even more disoriented.
The entrance to the park had to be somewhere. From there she would run to the nearest bus stop and ask for help. Maybe a policeman was on the prowl, or maybe a lone car.
The sound of fast and ever closer footsteps alerted her. They were too fast.
What they would do with it when they reached it?
Shandra was now in a slightly open field, a sort of clearing. The clouds in the sky were as dark as the very mantle that covered the earth at dawn, and no stars were shining.
The only exception was a flickering, still red spot, like a red eye watching everything from above.
Tiredness overcame the girl, who miscalculated one of her fast, uncoordinated steps and fell flat on the ground, injuring her knee in the process.
That little delay was more than enough to further diminish what little advantage she had over her pursuers.
The cry of despair simply disappeared as it was replaced by a silent, terrifying panic spreading through Shandra's veins and bones.
There were six of them.
Their misshapen faces in viperine smiles were the only similarities they shared. Some were shorter and fatter, others taller and thinner. The one who had spoken to her, who was white and slightly strong, looked the most sadistic.
Her lips quivered with fear. The men approached slowly, like wolves about to taste the helpless prey.
She held tightly to the medallion, pleading for help from anyone, anything that could stop what was about to happen.
"I told you it was dangerous to walk around, princess," said the shapely-armed man.
Just as the group was about to get very close to the poor girl, Shandra feels a stabbing heat in her chest, burning like the flames of hell itself.
The sensation makes her skin shiver completely, and a laugh echoes throughout the room, startling the men and making them fall and look to the sides in panic.
Shandra is not sure if she is seeing what she is seeing, but her assailants are.
There is a naked man on his back in front of her, with dark wings sprouting from his back, embers flying around him, and pointed, twisted horns at each temple.
He raises both hands and says quietly, as if asking for the bill in a restaurant:
And all the pursuers who thought to harm a crying young girl walking aimlessly, without exception, are instantly charred.
Shandra's consciousness betrayed her.
In a moment, she saw the men who had chased her being reduced to ashes by the winged stranger. Less than a second later, the girl fainted.
Minutes, hours or days later, the girl woke up on a bench in a square. It was still early morning. She was sitting up, as if she had just fallen asleep, and next to her was a stranger reading a newspaper.
The man smiled without looking at her, flipping through a page instead.
Shandra wanted to jump in fright, but the lethargy that was hitting her body stopped her. The locket was still warm against her skin, but not to the point of burning her.
His face was broad, with a pronounced jaw, thick lips, and unsettling fire-colored eyes. His thin, slightly pointed nose matched his other features perfectly, as did his square jaw and pale skin.
A thin beard harmonized the whole ensemble, and he blinks one of his eyes as he notices the gir
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