The cold September weather came sooner than it should have, and I welcomed it. I was tired of the flames of Hell and was ready for something new. Regardless of the temperature outside, my blood always ran hot - that’s why I never broke a sweat in the Underworld. My job was to decide the specific afterlife for the sinners, I specialized in the seven deadly sins. Those who committed all seven sins were sent directly to me. I was considered one of the “judges of the afterlife” and my job was to be sure that someone gets the proper afterlife treatment that they deserve. Every now and then, I would be sent to the human world to torture someone to death. After a few decades of doing that and really getting the hang of it, I wanted to challenge myself and try my hand at judging the humans during their lifetime as well. Those who had sinned early on and deserved even more punishment than an eternal Sisyphean afterlife. Being a demo

“Can I sit?” He asked and I motioned my hand for him to sit across from me. How old was this guy? He looked to be somewhere in his twenties and yet he was already so accomplished, how was it possible? “How, um, how do you know my name?” I asked, nervously. The women who were infatuated with him were right, he was incredibly handsome, and his presence, like the men mentioned, intimidating. The photo’s that I found of him online did not do him justice. Ironic, I thought. He looked at me and tilted his head as if it were obvious, “Your father’s file, of course,” he smiled at me. I felt like an idiot, of course he knew our family from the trial. “Of course,” I said quietly and attempted a chuckle as I looked down at my hands in my lap. “What are you doing here?” As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I hoped that my question didn’t come across as r

I couldn’t help myself but lean in. I watched him every time he took a sip of wine and watched the way his smooth lips pressed against the glass, or afterward when he licked his upper lip. His shirt was still clinging to his body from the rain that got him drenched and I could nearly count his abs, even our waitress was taken by him. The man exuded power and confidence, it was difficult to keep one’s composure around him. I got lost in his eyes, as blue as the sky, I stared, waiting for a cloud to pass by but to no avail, they were crystal clear, surrounded by long, dark lashes, and pointed directly at me. I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest and my face begin to warm up. I didn’t have control of my body anymore, and I began to lean towards him. He seemed hesitant at first when he saw me getting closer and his face became serious, his body seemed to tense, I froze when he didn’t move as I was. Instead, he put hi

The look on her face as I walked away was sadness, and while I hated to see it, it also warmed my heart that she was upset that our night was over. ’Don’t worry, Abigail Lynn, it was only the first of many,’ I thought to myself as I stared into her big hazel eyes. Just as much as she didn’t want me to go, I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted to take her then and there and make her mine forever, but Abby was precious to me, and I didn’t want to scare her away. Ultimately, I wanted to make her my Lady of the Underworld. My uncle’s name is Lucifer, most know him simply as the Devil. Being his nephew, I don’t have an exact title, but I am referred to as “Lord Damien” when I’m there. If it were England royalty, my position would be like a Marquee, but I like the sound that Lord carries with it more. My nickname as “The Demon” here in the human world

I slept in late the next morning after spending a decent amount of time the night before exhausting my body. I began to ask myself if last night really happened or if I dreamt of Damien taking me to Farro and almost having a moment with him. I sure hope it wasn’t a dream, I wanted to see him again, and I still didn’t know why. I was thirsty and hurried my way downstairs to get some juice. I found my mom at the kitchen table, staring blankly into her cup of coffee, and still wearing what she had on yesterday after crying herself to sleep. “Good morning, mama,” my voice was a tad bit more chipper than it probably appropriate to be, but I couldn’t help it. “Morning, Abby,” her voice was weak and she forced a small grin onto her face and I watched her continue to stare at the cup in front of her as I poured my drink, coming to sit by her. I put my hand on her leg for comfort again, l