(Mature content. Younger readers please skip to Ruin)

The moment Diana enters the cabin, I think back to the days when I first met her. I had made it my mission to drink until nothing mattered and to stay away from Pryor. I had to do that or run the risk of being taken back to The Center. And I couldn’t go back; I’d sooner die than go back. Yet I wasn’t completely free of The Center. They had Paras follow me around from a distance to ensure I wasn’t “misbehaving.”

As much as I detested them, there was nothing I could do about them following me. All the mixtures that were available weren’t strong enough to keep the Paras from tracking my movements. So instead I worked really hard to piss them off.

I would enter a store and leave through the back exit. I’d fly in erratic patterns and land in places that made it difficult for them to get a visual on me. I’ve taken them to dense forests, cities thick with fog, and overly crowded places crawling with humans. But no matter what I did they always found me.

The night I met Ruin, I was tired of trying to ditch my babysitters. So, I set out to do the two things I had become amazingly good at: drinking and fighting. Actually I had become good at another thing: sleeping around. It turns out girls are turned on by twisted, pissed off, self-destructed half demons.

But it wasn’t really about sex. After being at The Center I found it impossible to be alone. When I tried to Recharge, the flashes would come. I didn’t even know angels could have nightmares but that’s the only way I could describe what was happening to me.

I’d jump out of bed terrified I was back in The Center again. I’d shake for several minutes and my powers would be out of whack. When I turned over and saw someone in bed alongside me, it helped to know that I wasn’t alone.

I know it sounds like I used the girls, hell maybe I did. But they used me too. Mostly they slept with me because they wanted to know what it was like to sleep with “Silver.” They’d ask about my powers, what it was like to be Rage’s son, and a thousand other stupid questions. Ever since The Center, my life became a series of regrettable one-night stands and empty encounters.

The sad part is no amount of drinking I did could take away the two memories I long to forget: The Center and Pryor. The fact is, even if I didn’t make the deal I made with The Center, I still couldn’t be with Pryor. She’d never accept me knowing what I’ve become: A worthless screw-up.

Ever since I was born there were mass debates about whether I would be good or evil.

Some angels believe that because my mother was the second in command, that I would inherit her power, soul, and her sense of right and wrong. Other angels focused on the fact that Rage, my dad, was the top-ranking demon and that I was surely going to follow in his footsteps. Yes, my father ended up joining with good and saving humanity, but angels are quick to forget that. It’s simple: once a demon, always a demon.

Well maybe they’re right. Maybe I will also be rotten to my very soul. In that case staying away from Pryor really is the best possible thing.

The night I met Ruin, I had just beaten the hell out of some demons and managed to ditch the Para babysitters, at least for the time being. I went to the place I felt the most comfortable: the nearest demon bar.

I was drinking my fourth or maybe fifth bottle of Coy. Angel alcohol really is the best thing Omnis ever allowed to be created. I was inspecting the bloody gash just below my eye, courtesy of my latest brawl, when I heard someone address me from behind.

“You’re in my seat,” he says in a dark tone.

I don’t turn around to find out who’s talking because I don’t care. I just shook my head and continue to drink the Coy silently.

“Did you hear me you half-angel bastard, get the hell up,” the being demands.

I put down my Coy mug and stood up slowly. Then I turned to face the demon that addressed me.

“That’s right, get your ass up.” I step aside and allow him to take my seat at the bar.

He makes himself comfortable and addresses the rest of the bar.

“You see? That Noru shit is crap. This kid can’t take us on. Hell, he’d be nothing without his daddy to protect him,” the demon says.

They all began to laugh. He drank the rest of my Coy.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says sardonically.

“I think it’s only fair,” I tell him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asks.

“I think everyone should have one last drink before they die,” I replied.

“Bullshit, you can’t—”

Before the demon could finish his thought, I bashed him in the head with the heavy glass mug he was drinking from. Blood squirted out from the side of his face and he fell to the floor. The other demons inched closer as if they are about to attack. I formed a massive silver Powerball in the palm of my hand.

“Is he worth dying for?” I asked all the demons in the bar.

They stepped back; I got on top of the disrespectful asshole and beat the crap of out him. I was going to leave it at that but he hurled a Powerball at me just as I was getting up. It flew just past me. Pissed, I picked him up with both hands, hurl him into the wall, and forced a mini Powerball down his mouth. He imploded and it rained down demon flesh.

Furious, a demon aimed his Powerball at me. I ducked just in time, and it killed a female demon behind me. The demon, realizing his girl was dead, tackled the demon that threw the Powerball. Soon it was an all-out bar fight. Everyone was out of control; everyone but her.

She stood in the corner, wearing a long black body-hugging dress, with a slit that started from her upper thigh down to the floor. The only thing more shocking than her revealing dress was her calm demeanor. She wasn’t fazed by the violence around us. In fact she seemed to welcome it. She had black hair, pouty apple red lips, long eyelashes, and curves that could bring down an empire.

Our eyes locked. She slowly sauntered over to me, without the slightest concern for the deadly Powerballs that were flying around her. When she got closer, she signaled for me to look down at her dress; there’s a tiny speck of blood on it. She leaned in and whispered to me in a raspy, primal voice.

“You owe me a new dress,” she said simply.

Before I could reply she turned and started to head up the stairs to the rooms above the bar. Intrigued, I followed. I found one of her black six-inch heels on the first step. I went up a few more steps and found the other heel. By the time I got to the landing, I had picked up her dress, bra and her panties.

There were three rooms on the first floor; her room was the one with the door that’s slightly ajar. It’s her brazen and confident nature that excites me the most. I’m about to make a mistake but I don’t care. I walk in and find her standing stark naked in front of the window, facing away from me as she puts her hair up in a high ponytail.

From her demeanor I could tell she was expecting me to be impressed and submit to her. She didn’t bother to turn towards me; it’s almost as if she was bored with the whole thing. I don’t know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t what happened.

I headed for the nightstand and found what usually came in dive places like these: maps to the nearest Seller shop, mini bottles of Coy, and Tam (liquid condoms). In the past only girls could drink the Tam but it’s since been improved and guys can take it as well. I swallowed the small vial of protection and turned my focus back to the girl at the window.

I marched over to her; grab a fistful of her hair and pulled; hard. She gasped and her eyes widen in shock. Her back is now arched and her nipples stand hard atop full breasts.

She flared her arms wildly, trying to gain control.

“Be still,” I commanded.

She looked back at me defiantly and continued to move against my wishes. I whipped out my belt. The sound of the leather cutting through the air caused her to shiver slightly. Then she stopped moving altogether.

“Good girl,” I replied.

I instructed her to open her legs, lean forward, and place her hands against the window. She paused for a moment and considered defying me. To discourage any disobedience, I brushed the tip of my belt along her inner thigh. She moans softly and does what I say—places her hands against the glass.

“Do not take your hands down for any reason,” I ordered.

I knew even before I started that she’ll try to control the situation by not giving in to whatever pleasure she was feeling. So I was determined to overload her with sensations that made it impossible for her to keep her hands on the glass.

I make patterns with my index finger along her back and nuzzle between her shoulder blades. When I plant kisses behind her neck and lower back, she inhales sharply, still keeping her hands on the window.

I up the stakes by kneading and shaping her swollen breasts. She leans back into me and moans softly. But that’s not enough for me. I wanted her to let go of the glass and lose control to me completely. 

I got down on the ground and placed my head between her legs. She gasped as my tongue ventured between the slick folds of her center. When I make contact with her succulent tip, she pants and shouts “yes, yes, yes” as she takes her hands off the glass.

She clutched my hair between her fingers and pressed my mouth firmly against her. She cried out and begged for more. That’s when I pulled her down to the floor, latched on to her thighs and yanked her towards my mouth so I could “eat.” Once my tongue made contact with her most sensitive spot, I sucked and slurped until she could not keep her hips from lifting off the floor.

I reached up and took her ripe nipples into my mouth. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she moaned. I took my clothes off feverishly and she reached out for what she knew would be hard and waiting. She wrapped her hand around it and inserts it inside her.

I thrust into her hard; she tore my back open with her nails. She then flipped us so that she be on top. She straddled and then rode me until the room started to spin. I groaned as her body took me to levels of ecstasy previously unknown to angel or demon kind.

Suddenly, without warning, I felt my hands being restrained by something. I looked up and the sex maven had bound my hands above my head with Samson rope. Like Samson string, the rope version cannot be untied by anyone other than the one whose hands originally tied it. She looks down at me with her untamed hair and a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

“My turn,” she declared.

I was utterly unprepared for what she would do next. Her mouth traveled down my body and found detours along the way that caused me to groan loudly and swear to Omnis. By the time her lips wrapped themselves around their destination, I convulsed with pleasure. So much pleasure, in fact, we blacked out.

“Silver, wake up!” I heard her call out.

I popped my eyes open and was assaulted by the harsh light streaming from the window. I put my hand over my eyes to shield me from the glare. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw her quickly gathering our clothes.

“What are you doing—hey, what’s your name again?” I asked.

“They’re coming for you,” she said.

“Who?” I asked, still too weak from last night’s activity to sit up in one try.

“The Paras. You know it’s their job to watch you since you have gotten out of The Center. And they found you, so unless you want them busting in here you better move it!” she said.

“How do you know about all this?” I asked as I gathered my stuff.

“I heard you went to Bliss but I know a few angels at the prison and they said they hadn’t seen you in months. I figured The Center got you. I know what they do there. I know they’re vicious dicks who’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. I also know they don’t like you going to bars, and a demon friend just texted me that Paras are nearby so once again, move your ass!”

I had a million questions for her, but if she were right, this would not be the time to ask them. We got our stuff and were about to take to the sky, when I pulled on her dress. She hurriedly turned towards me.

“Just tell me one thing: What’s your name?” I asked.

She opened her mouth but then she hesitated.

“Your name?” I asked again.

“Diana,” she replied with a girlish expression that was a stark contrast to the grown-up things we had done the night before.

“Hi, Diana.”

When we were a safe distance away, in a nearby alley, she started to mix vials together. That’s when she first told me she was also a Specialist. She could make mixtures that would help me evade the Paras, called Lanta. Or even the Omari if it came down to that. She also told me she had heard rumors about The Center long before someone she knew was sent there. I would have asked more info but she seemed reluctant to share. I knew the feeling well.

“So you’re just gonna help me, just like that?” I asked.

“You caught me on a good day. Besides, you’re almost a decent lay,” she lied.

I smiled back at her. She told me to pull up my shirt because the mixture she created had to be poured onto my chest. I do as I’m told. She studied my chest and looked at me suspiciously.

“There’s a slight glow under your skin. Is there another mixture on you?” she said.

“Yeah, a little.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Just something to help conceal a few...scars,” I replied, not wanting to talk further.

“The Center?” she asked.

“Yeah...”

“If you want to get back at those sick Para bastards, I know a warehouse they use to store equipment. It would really piss them off if something happened to it...”