Demons Don't Know How To Love

She walked, splashing through the muddy puddles with her bare feet.   To get away from the church.   Away from the village.   Away from the f*****g life with the "beloved man" that she had dreamed of since childhood.   Large drops of warm summer rain hit her beautiful face, mixing with her salty tears.   Her wedding dress was covered with mud stains, the entire hem of her skirt was torn.   Having no more strength to walk any further, she turned off the dirt road and approached an abandoned house standing at a distance.   She fell on the steps like a bag and, embracing her bare shoulders, burst into loud sobs.   The weather muffled her sobs with peals of thunder, the rain hid her tears, washing them away from her reddened cheeks.   She wanted to hide in the house, but the doors and windows were boarded up.   She sat down on the steps and buried her face in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees.   Squeaky footsteps sounded nearby. She shuddered in fear and tossed her head, afraid to find that someone from the village had decided to follow her to continue bullying her.   Her gaze rested on a tall, stately figure dressed in black clothes.   An unearthly handsome man stood in front of her, covered from the rain with a huge umbrella.   His milky white skin was in stark contrast to his brown eyes and dark, slightly curly hair.   Tilting his head to one side, he looked at her like she was some strange animal, as if wondering if she would attack him or not.   When it rumbled again in the distance, she shuddered and trembled.   The stranger silently folded his umbrella and unbuttoned the buttons on his coat.   She shook her head quickly and tried to crawl away from him.   He tilted his head again. "There is no need to be afraid of me." His voice was low, slightly hoarse.   She shook her head again.   “What are you doing here alone in this weather? Won’t your parents worry about you?"   She lowered her eyes.   “Although, judging by the dress, your husband should be worried about you, not your parents.”   Her shoulders trembled and she sobbed louder than before.   “Ah, forgive me! Did I make you sad somehow?"   She shook her head and tried to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks.   "Tell me. Why are you sitting alone by an abandoned house when you should be feasting at your own wedding?   "M-my fiancé..." A loud sob interrupted her.   "What about him? Did he die before reaching the altar?   “He… he got married to another woman…”   "Is he stupid?" The stranger smiled charmingly. “How could you break the heart of such a beauty?”   She tried to force a smile, but the corners of her lips stubbornly refused to curl up.   He doubled over to look into her eyes. She recoiled because his face was obscenely close. "Do you want me to avenge your broken heart, little flower?"   "Wh-what?" a whisper, barely audible amid a thunderstorm.   "I'll hurt him a hundred times more than he hurt you." His dark as night eyes darted across her face. "Would you like that?"   She shook her head, but couldn't look away. "T-that's wrong..."   "Did he do the right thing?" the insinuating whisper of a stranger filled her ears, crowding out all other sounds. “Dumping you on your wedding day for another woman. Is it right? Tell me, little flower."   She swallowed and looked down at her own knees. "Why do you want to do this?"   "I can't stand injustice," the stranger shrugged and straightened up. "Make up your mind."   "I..." she stammered. "Will this make me feel better?"   "It might. What do you say?"   She considered. Did she want to hurt the one who treated her so cruelly, breaking her heart into a million sharp pieces, on that day that should have been the happiest in her already difficult life? Closing her eyes tightly, she nodded.   “Wonderful,” he began to remove the glove from his right hand. “Just one tiny detail, little flower. I don't do anything for nothing, understand?"   She opened her eyes and looked at the stranger. He looked at her like a hunter looking at his prey. No one had ever looked at her like that before, but she knew what his look meant. She was not a little girl, and she knew what a man demands from a woman for help. Taking a deep breath, she pulled up her wedding dress, blushing furiously.   His palm covered hers, stopping her before the hem got up to her knees. "Why are you in such a hurry?" He smiled. "I wouldn't dare dishonor an innocent girl like that, I'm not an animal."   She felt the blush deepen on her cheeks. She lowered her face, but his fingers rested on her chin, forcing her to look up at him.   "Poor thing," he caressed her cheek with his fingertips. "What's your name, my little flower?"   "Dahlia," she breathed softly.   "Dahlia," he repeated, as if savoring the taste of her name. The way he said her name made her feel hot in her stomach. “I will take revenge on your offender, Dahlia. And in return, you will agree to become my wife.”   "What?" she thought that he had decided to play a cruel trick on her.   "Shall I get down on one knee?" smiling broadly, the stranger knelt before her. "That's a shame! Now my clothes are dirty!" she looked down and saw that he was kneeling in a puddle. He looked at her and held out his hand to her. "Dahlia, will you marry me?"   A lump formed in her throat. She really wanted to say no, but something in the man's eyes told her that she should agree. Could it be that he was a wealthy aristocrat who wished to marry a simple village woman to annoy his parents or avoid an arranged marriage? She heard stories about such marriages from the old women in the village. She shifted her gaze to the outstretched hand and saw a black pattern on his palm. She opened her mouth to say no, but a barely audible "Yes" escaped her lips. Her hand slipped into his open palm.   His smile got wider. He stood up to his full height and impulsively pulled her into his arms. "You have made me the happiest man on earth, Dahlia." Holding her tightly by the waist, he placed his hand on her cheek. "Should we seal our union with a kiss?"   Before she could answer, the stranger's lips covered hers. Dahlia squeaked and tried to push him away from her, but he held her tightly. The tip of his tongue slid over her tightly pressed lips, insistently demanding permission to deepen the kiss. Her hands rested on his chest in an attempt to push the man away, but he was much stronger than her. His hand slid below her waist and squeezed hard on her buttcheek. She sobbed indignantly, parting her lips, which he immediately took advantage of. His hot tongue explored every corner of her mouth. He growled in delight as he tasted her and pulled her tighter against him. Dahlia fluttered in his arms like a bird, tirelessly clapping her palms on his chest. No one had ever touched her as frankly as this stranger.   No, he was not a stranger. He was her fiancé. It didn't matter if she didn't know his name. His touch was pleasant, though persistent. And his kisses... his kisses made her dizzy. She wasn't sure what she was doing as she carefully wrapped her arms around his neck and timidly tried to return his kiss. The man growled again. He hugged her tighter and lifted her a little above the ground so that their faces were on the same level. He continued to kiss her lips, holding her waist with one hand, allowing the other to explore the smooth curves of her body. Not knowing what to do with herself, Dahlia timidly kissed him back, holding onto his broad shoulders with both hands. Only when she felt her head begin to spin from the lack of oxygen did she try to pull away from his insistent lips. This time, he let her.   "You're sweeter than honey, my little flower," he whispered hoarsely, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. He carefully lowered her to the ground. "I can't wait to enjoy you to the fullest." He stepped back and removed his cloak to drape it over her trembling shoulders. “Wait for me, Dahlia. I'll get my revenge on your ex-fiancé and come back for you. Or do you want to come with me?"   She shook her head. Whatever the stranger came up with to punish her former lover, she didn't want to see it.   "Then wait for me here, okay?" he kissed her loudly on the forehead and went towards the village.   "Wait!" Dahlia grabbed her by the wrist, but immediately withdrew her hand in fright, afraid that she might anger him by doing so. "Wh-what's your name?"   He turned to face her, and before she had a chance to realize what was happening, he kissed her lips again. "I was starting to think you wouldn't ask," he whispered, trailing kisses to her ear. "My name is Dantalion."   Giving her another short kiss, the man took a step back and vanished into thin air.   Dahlia sat down exhausted on the steps and pressed her hand to her swollen lips...