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“With a wicked smirk, I part the Devil's lips. He invites me eagerly with want, drinking me in like salted chocolate, savoring my blood on his tongue. He thinks he has me. My muscles tense when he weakens, my power growing as his desire burgeons. It shifts too suddenly. I gasp as he grabs me by the waist, pulling me firmly against his body. His hand coils around my neck, lifting my lips to his. My eyes shut instinctually, tasting the blood and honey on his tongue. The taste deepens, layered like spiced sangria. I want more. I want it so much, it consumes me. I press into him harder. He's ravenous, squeezing me, threading his fingers through my hair, ruining my curls. No. My eyes burst open, but I don't shatter his fantasy. Not yet. I come up for breath as his lips find their way to my neck. I tilt my head back, glancing at the stained glass ceiling. The upper hand is mine again when I push him against the stone wall, furiously feeding him kisses to satiate his hunger. He grabs my leg, pulling it around his waist. I balance myself against the cave, and with my touch, crystals start to sprout. Citrine, ruby, and amber. They form into points, my own glittering weapons. Once they're not long enough, I snap a piece off. The Devil mistakes my destruction as rapture. I play into it further. Grabbing him by the collar, I spin us away from the wall, continuing our tango over to the balcony. Wisps of my gossamer gown pool around my thighs as he explores me. My fingers twist into his hair, pulling, stringing up his appetite until he begs for more. And, once I have him truly at my mercy, I jab the crystal straight into his back.” — Kiana Krystle