There was no need for drinks. There was a primal energy between them and she needed no persuasion. A simple suggestion from him was all it took for her to willingly slide into his car, ready to ride off with him into the night. The hum of the engine and the warmth of his hand on her thigh as he drove sent shivers down her spine, a delicious anticipation building inside her with each passing mile.

The sound of rain tapping against the windows made him long for warmth and intimacy. He imagined cuddling with his partner. He thought about how wonderful it would be to hold onto warmth until the breaking of dawn. He fantasized about whispering erotic nonsense to her and tenderly kissing her neck while the rain fell outside the bedroom. They would be shielded from the cold and the wetness, and it would be as though they had created their own world, basking in its intimacy.

As much as he wanted it he knew it could not happen like that. None of these women could be close in that way. As always it would only be a fleeting moment. There would be no lasting attachment or bond between them. Lust and desire would rule over any deeper emotions.

His dark thoughts hung over him and threatened to consume him. Could any woman truly love him and the dark, hideous thing that he was underneath? Could who he had become ever have the hope of finding love?

Jack, though still human, felt his connection to the demonic world grow stronger every time he tapped into it, increasingly consumed by darkness with each use of the underworld's power. His remaining humanity offered a glimmer of hope within him. But for true demons, vampires, witches, and other wicked beings of the lower realms, hope was not even an option to consider.

While the city wounded the hearts of normal humans, the power and magic of the underworld hardened its inhabitants beyond saving.

Jack wondered where beings of his kind, the Devil Kissed, could run to when they needed something more fulfilling than magic? Maybe finding balance would only be possible with someone who has also been ‘Kissed’ by the Devil. Maybe that's why he would never get the intimacy he wanted. Humans who sought a connection could have it by being with beings like themselves, but he couldn't. Although he was a Kissed, influenced by the Underworld, he would rather not plunge his soul deeper.

He yearned for redemption, but deep down believed it was an unattainable goal. To give in to his desires and be with someone similar to himself would be a dangerous descent into unknown depths. Where could his fantasy meet reality? As much as he craved it, he couldn't take the risk.

And so, there he was, taking home yet another woman who would mean nothing to him, even if she were to try.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"You’re awfully quiet," he heard from beside him.

"As opposed to what?" he asked, slightly irritated. "Boring you with details of how I write bestsellers?" He spat out with more venom than intended, then inhaled deeply, frustrated by his emotions.

She kept her eyes on him unabashedly. He wanted to grasp her jaw and turn her face away. He didn't like her attitude. He didn't want to be looked at as though he was this mysterious thing to be unraveled. It was futile.

"Did I say or do something wrong?" she finally asked, but not in a repentant tone. It was confrontational—a further attempt at figuring out what the hell was wrong with him.

He drove into the estate, faced the straight road ahead, and made the final curve into his street. She got the message because he heard her sigh and adjust in her seat to turn away from him.

"It's a quiet neighborhood," she noted as he turned into his driveway. "It's like no one even lives here."

Can she just shut up?, he thought.

"Do you see all those houses?" he responded, not intending to sound impolite. "Some people pay top dollar for luxury just to have some peace and quiet away from the hustle and bustle of human noise."

She scoffed but remained silent. He couldn't help but see that the bookworm demeanor of a Bookstore Assistant was just a facade for a woman who struggled with being alone. She needed constant contact with the outside world to stay sane.

"Here we are," he said, cutting the engine abruptly. Already, this arrangement was losing its appeal; he was only still going on with it because of the story he sought to extract from it. This was, after all, his job. "My humble abode."

The woman's breath caught in her throat as she gazed out through the windscreen at the grandiose home looming before them. She couldn't help but tilt her head, trying to take in every inch of its opulent exterior. "There's nothing humble about this mansion," she commented, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jack shrugged, as if to say there was no need for modesty when one had such wealth and success. Her eyes then wandered over to his other two cars parked along the driveway, both just as impressive and extravagant as the first.

He let out a sigh and reached to open the driver-side door. "I believe people have high expectations for those who are successful," he commented. He noticed that she stayed in her seat, showing no signs of wanting to leave the car. For a split second, he worried that she was waiting for him to be chivalrous and open the door for her like it was a romantic date. He hoped she wasn't over-thinking things already.

"I’m not everyone," she declared suddenly. She opened the door, got out rather quickly, and slammed it a little too hard.

Confused somewhat, he got out of the car, locked up, and joined her quick steps on the cobblestones up to the porch.

She remained silent, but he could sense the tension in her every step, in the very air around her. If something was bothering her, he didn’t care to find out. Tonight wasn’t the time for that—never was, not with any of the girls.