The demon doctor said one pill every two days would keep things stable.Liar.Panic clung to me like a second skin as the fire raged hotter. My vision blurred, my body twisted with heat, and just like that, my dick went hard.Fuck.
When I finally found the bottle, I doubled over, pain ricocheting through me like I was trapped inside a pinball machine. I tried to twist the damn cap, but I couldn’t get the pressure right.Child-proof.Of course.
Another wave slammed into me, harder this time, and I jerked upright, clutching the bottle so tight it cracked. The top exploded off, and pills scattered across the room like tiny lifelines. I collapsed to the floor, scrambling to grab just one before everything went black.
Clawing at the floor, I managed to grab one, cupping it in my hand to keep the pill from slipping away. Turning onto my back, I let gravity help, hovering a pill above my mouth with a shaking hand. I relaxed my fingers, and it dropped in, going straight down the back of my throat. I choked a little as I swallowed it dry, but it was down. Now all I had to do was wait.
Panting on my living room floor, I told myself,this is what I deserve.
My resolve was absolute, even though the doctors said it was suicidal and would only make things worse. That what I was doing wouldn’t help anyone and would, in fact, put me in more danger, but I just couldn't do it. They didn’t understand.
?*My thoughts drifted to the first night we met, five years ago, in that club on her twenty-first birthday. She had pickedmefrom the crowd like a fucking fairytale. The princess came out and chose her dance partner. Everyone else wanted her, but she choseme, keeping me with her all night, and I knew why.
I proved it to her on that dance floor, right there, in the middle of it all, with bodies swaying and lights flashing. I worshipped her, tasted her, and showed her why she made the right choice. She opened for me like a flower in bloom, letting the world watch, but onlyIcould touch.
When midnight struck, she gave me her hotel key and told me to meet her in thirty minutes. I was so excited, so thrilled to have met my match in life. I bought flowers and champagne, getting ready to celebrate her birthday with just the two of us, only to find, upon my arrival, her room bloody, red handprints smeared across the walls, the door open, and my princess… gone.
The next day, the news broke. The flower of the Syndicate had been attacked, and that was why sheripped out the bastard’s heartand declared war on anyone who dared come for her. A few days later, she became the new Glovefox boss and moved to New York. And just like that, my moment with her vanished. Torn away, soaked in blood.
That was the day I stopped using my demon powers.
The doctors told me there was a build-up from the non-use, that the pain would eventually force me to snap and go crazy, but I adamantly refused because I was saving myself for her. So, they found me a workaround: take a pill every two days and masturbate five times a day to vent the pressure.
Not exactly a challenge as I already had cameras all over her building. Watching her, worshipping her, coming for her, those were the easy parts.
But, right now, it was only the thirty-hour mark and the pain hadalreadystarted. That wasn’t normal. That was very concerning.
The drug finally kicked in. The fire dulled to a low burn, and I sat up, breathing deep, surrounded by pills scattered like fallen stars. I inhaled slowly, exhaled slower, then crawled around on my hands and knees, gathering each one like sacred beads from a broken rosary.
Guess I’m going back to the doctor. Yay.
My eyes drifted to the wall above my monitors, and a familiar peace settled over me. My heart slowed to a steady rhythm. My breathing evened out. Her face always calmed me down to my soul.
The wall wasn’t just a collage. It was analtarto Aniyah Glovefox. Every inch was covered in photos: candid shots, surveillance stills, printed screenshots. Some were neatly framed. Others were pinned haphazardly, layered over each other like a living mosaic of her laughing, frowning, walking, sleeping. My handwriting filled the margins with dates, times, outfits, locations, notes about the curve of her smile and the different shades her eyes and hair contained when the sun touched them versus the moonlight.
Below one smiling photo, I’d taped dried flowers that were the exact shade of her eyes. In the corner, her red lace thong hung like a relic, pinned like it belonged in a museum of masterpieces. Right next to it, a photo from the opening night at the Winged Palace, marked with the date. Every brush of her life against mine had a place here.
It was my love letter. My tour de force. My salvation.
It gave me the strength to keep going. To stay alive. To becomeworthyof her.
I stood up, pills in hand, and walked to my desk, then I picked up the phone and made the call to the doctor for another emergency appointment.
I had to push forward no matter the cost.
Someday, I’ll be ready, and you’ll finally see me.
Your secret admirer.
Your loyal demon.
Your lifelong mate.
* Song: Lifetime bu Chris Grey
* Song: Always Been You by Chris Grey
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