The Devil and The Maiden

She entered a coffee shop to escape the winter chill, despite her thick white fur coat keeping most of the frosty weather away. The diamond ring on her finger shimmered in the sunlight as she removed her white gloves and tucked them away in her designer bag. Heads turned to catch glances of her, most of the crowd having recognized her the moment she came into view. A few awed women immediately flocked to her and shook her hand one right after the other, a handful of them introducing their husbands.

Luckily Akrailia didn't mind socializing and she gladly obliged her fans' requests, as high class always dictated. Akrailia had always maintained her sincerity; if she said that she loved something, she meant it, and if she said that she was happy meeting someone, it was true. She had never grown frustrated with the tabloids' constant influx of pictures of her or the endless curiosity of the public regarding her wardrobe for upcoming fashion seasons, and she never worried about her name being soiled by rumors or gossip. Sources would commend her on her natural ability to befriend almost anyone or her comfort around such popularity (being an immortal goddess has its advantages, after all), but Akrailia truly had nothing to fear as a result of her husband (an immortal demon king), whose first mark on society had been left long ago.

This once monstrous being that still struck fear into those surrounding him (save for a select few) entered the cozy establishment only a minute or so after his beloved. He was clad from neck to toe with an arrangement of black clothing, the red scarf hanging loosely around his neck the only other color he wore. A few locks of his long black hair were slung about his brow and he brushed them away only after he had placed the abundant amount of shopping bags next to his wife and the group she was currently entertaining.

Dusting off the flakes of snow that had gathered on his head and shoulders, Asmodeus reflected on his previous distaste of coffee before Akrailia entered his life. The brew used to signify nothing but humanity and its endeavors to control a world that it didn't belong to, but now it was a sweet smell that signified Akrailia's awakening every morning.

Shopping was another thing that Akrailia had altered his mind about; in the past he would have sooner chosen to rush blindly into war rather than mingle among mortals, but now that he shared his life with another, he couldn't imagine straying from her side for any reason. His beloved wife could unintentionally convince him that he adored anything as long as it brought a smile to her face.

Removing his gloves and coat and slinging them over one arm, he joined his wife by her side, his black sweater, pants, boots, and belt contrasting the white of her coat. He rested his free arm around her waist and merely nodded and greeted those around him when it was called for, which wasn't for very long because the crowd soon dissipated under claims of unfinished shopping trips.

This made Akrailia giggle softly; while she was always the belle of the ball, her husband came across as a hard and difficult person. It was only when he was with Akrailia, did society relax around the demon king.

“Did you order already?” he asked her, brushing a lock of her curly blonde hair from her face. Despite having fashioned her hair in one large braid that she draped over her shoulder, the wind had managed to knock a strand or two loose. He stroked her cheek, which was flushed a light shade of pink due to the freezing temperature. It wasn't until after they kissed that she answered.

“Not yet.”

The manner in which her voice seemed tinged with a hint of mischief and the twinkle in her sapphire blue eyes revealed to Asmodeus that his wife was up to something. He arched a dark eyebrow at her, silently goading her to reveal what she had planned.

“Will you order for me?” she requested in her sweetest voice. Assuming incorrectly that he was going to refuse her, she quickly added, “I need to powder my nose.”

Pulling her closer to him, Asmodeus kissed his wife on the forehead; he never had the will to refuse her anything. “Yes, dear. What would you like?”

“I'm craving something with vanilla; maybe, a latte?”

“Of course. Is there anything else that you desire?” He brushed another lock of her hair away from her brow, only to have it fall back into place as she shook her head.

“No.” She returned his kiss with one on his cheek, thanked him, and then departed for the Ladies' Room under her lover's protective gaze.

As the door swung closed behind her, Asmodeus made his way to the counter and ordered his wife's drink from the barista. After he paid he moved to the side to wait for the order, and another thought crossed his mind.

In each eternity that I lived in my abysmal torment, I never could have fathomed willingly Christmas shopping among humans, toting gift bags around, or waiting around for a damn coffee. The woman who prepared the beverage delivered it to him, pulling him from his train of thought.

Drink in hand, he turned back towards their haul to assure that every bag was still in tact (not that anyone would dare take them), just in time to see the object of his affections emerge from behind the Ladies' Room door. She was a very hot-natured woman, yet despite being in a toasty building, she kept her coat draped around her, concealing her feminine frame beneath.

She looked so ethereal in anything she wore, but she always took Asmodeus' breath away every moment he gazed upon her. He smiled as she leaned back just slightly enough for him to notice, reminding him of something that had yet to go public, but would very soon: Akrailia was just over three months pregnant.

They had both agreed on waiting to reveal it until she was further along, so she had almost perfected the art of concealing herself with thick or loose clothing. However, she would soon be so swollen with his child that no amount of clothing would hide her delicate condition.