Chapter 1: The Devil’s Bride
1070 Words
Chapter 1: The Devil’s Bride
Celestine POV
The soft hum of fluorescent lights above barely registered in Celestine’s ears as her fingers danced quickly over her keyboard. The world outside the glass walls of the Esquivel Holdings headquarters buzzed with morning chaos—honking horns, early chatter, footsteps on tile—but within her small cubicle, silence reigned. Perfect silence. Exactly how she liked it.
She wore her usual disguise: thick-rimmed glasses that hid her brilliant amber eyes, a shapeless gray cardigan that swallowed her delicate curves, and her long, jet-black hair twisted into a strict bun. Her red lips were muted today with a pale balm, and not a hint of eyeliner traced the lash lines that, unpainted, still gave her a mysterious gaze. Every inch of her was calculated—crafted to deflect attention.
Because attention was dangerous.
Men avoided her. Not by choice. Those who dared to flirt, to touch, even to admire—had all encountered something that made their skin crawl, eyes widen, and hearts race in fear. It was the curse she was born with. A curse no one understood. A terror that surrounded her like an invisible veil.
She was untouchable. And she made sure to stay that way.
Until today.
“Celestine,” came a call from the admin’s desk, breaking her out of her focused rhythm. She blinked twice, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and stood.
“Yes, ma’am?” she asked politely, walking over.
Admin Rosa gave her a tight smile, one that barely reached her eyes. “The new CEO is here. He’s meeting the staff on this floor today. You’re first on the list.”
Celestine's brows lifted slightly. “I didn’t know we were getting a new CEO.”
Rosa chuckled, a little awkwardly. “It was abrupt. He’s... different.”
Before she could ask more, a pair of heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed from the hallway. And then she saw him.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark tousled hair that curled slightly at the ends. His suit was black—custom-fit, silk-threaded—and he carried himself like a man who’d conquered more than just business. His eyes were icy gray, sharp, and yet when they landed on Celestine, something in them shifted.
He stopped walking.
Kael.
He scanned her face, as if memorizing each line. Her glasses. Her lips. Her hidden shape. For a moment, Celestine felt the strange urge to squirm under his gaze. Not from fear.
From awareness.
“Celestine Amorin,” Rosa introduced. “Senior Financial Analyst, ten months with the company.”
Kael didn’t offer his hand. He didn’t need to. His presence was overwhelming enough. “So you’re the ghost in the numbers.”
Celestine blinked. “Sir?”
“I’ve read every one of your quarterly reports. You’ve cleaned up messes no one else even noticed. Ghost work. Precise. Clean. Hidden.”
“I... thank you,” she replied, unsure how else to respond. Her heart thudded, not in affection, but in alarm. She didn’t like being noticed.
Kael gave her one last look, a long one. Then turned without another word and disappeared into his private office.
That night, Celestine didn’t go home. She went to her second life.
The streets glowed beneath the city’s red haze. Neon signs blinked above motels, alleyways reeked of sin, and Celestine—no longer the office nerd—walked in a black body-hugging suit that shimmered like liquid shadow. Her face was hidden beneath a half-mask lined with obsidian gems, her eyes visible now, striking and bright. Her long hair was down, tousled, silky.
She was the phantom agent known only as Seline. Seductress. Assassin. Enchantress.
But she didn’t kill. Not anymore.
Her targets fell to ruin without blood.
Tonight, she worked until 3 a.m. Tracking a corrupt judge with a weakness for pretty faces and blackmail. When the job was done, she staggered into her tiny apartment, body exhausted.
But she didn’t dare sleep.
Because he would come.
Lucien.
He came to her in dreams, always. Pale-skinned, obsidian-haired, with red-ringed golden eyes that burned through layers of her soul. He smelled of spice, sin, and silk sheets. She had tried to fight it. Tried to close her mind. But the moment her body relaxed, he entered like smoke.
She curled up on the couch, surrounded by soft lights, sipping bitter coffee. Her lids drooped.
She failed.
In the Dream Realm
She opened her eyes to candlelight. Satin sheets cradled her bare legs. She was in the place again—the palace of temptation. The floor was black marble, the bed too large for one person, the windows open to an eternal red sky.
And he was there.
Lucien.
Bare-chested, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes aflame with fury. He rose slowly and stalked toward her.
“You hid from me,” he whispered, voice like hot silk down her neck. “You dare to deny me your sleep?”
“Go away,” she murmured, weak.
He gripped her wrist—not harsh, but firm—and pulled her onto his lap. She gasped. Skin against skin. Heat against heat.
“I can’t touch you in the waking world,” he growled into her neck. “But here... here, you’re mine.”
His lips grazed her collarbone. She shuddered. Her body betrayed her, melting against him. Her mind screamed for control.
“Say my name,” Lucien murmured. “Let me hear it from your lips.”
She bit her tongue. Shook her head.
He nipped at her earlobe. “Do you think you can run from me forever?”
“I don’t belong to you.”
“Oh, but you do.” He ran his fingers along her thigh, slow, maddening. “You’ve belonged to me since the moment your soul was marked.”
Celestine whimpered. Her body throbbed with tension. This was not real.
But it felt real. It always felt real.
She turned her head, met his gaze. “You’re not even human.”
Lucien smiled. “Neither are you.”
She woke with a scream, drenched in sweat.
Outside, dawn painted the sky in blood-orange.
She had to survive another day. Another day hiding. Another day avoiding sleep.
Because the devil didn’t knock.
He waited until you were weak.
And then he kissed you like fire and dragged your soul into sin.
- Writer
