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Their relationship was a close brother/sister friendship and I envied the boy. I wanted to be the one to make her face light up like that. I watched from a distance in my human form, careful not to let her see me. If she did, no good would come of it. I could lurk invisibly, but if she were to look in my direction, she would see me in my demon form. My powers were absolutely worthless in the face of love.

That day was no different. They did what they always did, walked the same route they always walked. It only fueled my envy. I cursed myself for being a demon; unable to do anything about my growing infatuation. After a while, though, Greta stopped and sat down of one of the park benches. She reached into her bag and pulled out a book, my book. She bought it. She looked down thoughtfully at the cover again and flipped through the pages.

"Oliver, listen!" She said, her eyes lighting up as she patting the empty space of the bench next to her. He complied. "Lady Carrera is a well-known, high-ranking succubus; known best as the head mistress of hell. She specializes in punishing the women who commit adultery, have sex before marriage, prostitutes and other women of the sort. She is also known to take the form of a human and appear in the dreams of women, seducing them through intercourse, like succubae are said to do."

"She fucks chicks in their sleep?" He asked, "Sounds like your kind of demon."

She scowled and punched him, jokingly. "That's not true at all. I'm saving myself for marriage."

"It's a dream, though. You'd still be saved." He said, nudging her with his elbow.

"Oli!" She yelled, blush quickly surfacing in her cheeks. "Stop it! Besides, it also says that she punishes adulteresses and such. Hm, I wonder why I picked up this book. Seems kind of weird."

"Maybe this Lady Carrera is trying to tell you something. Or me something. Hm, sis, are you a prostitute or something?" The brother laughed.

"Like I said, saving myself." Greta said, "It kinda makes me wonder about her; about demons. Maybe they're not like they're made out to be."

I turned and started to walk again.

Greta turned quickly to look at me and my heart stopped.

"Hey, I saw you at the bookstore." She called to me. I turned to face her.

"Uh, yeah. I go there every day." I said, "You work there or something, don't you?"

I started to walk toward her and she picked up her things and stood, moving around the bench and facing me.

"Yeah, I do." She said, "Sorry, I must've freaked you out. I'm Greta, Greta Caruso."

"My name is..." Shit. "...kinda hard to pronounce. You can call me Ryla. Ryla Bliss."

"Ryla." She repeated, her voice deliciously sultry. "Nice to meet you. I guess I'll see you tomorrow if you go to the bookstore every day."

I watched in shock, unable to speak as my innocent young Greta turned into a demanding sex kitten. She had just said she was saving herself, but her eyes... her eyes begged me to take her.

"I suppose so." I managed to say, regaining my demonic confidence. "See you then."

"See ya." She said, and I quickly got away from her. She was making it extremely difficult to keep myself under control.


I saw her again; the woman who dresses in black and lurks quietly around the store. She never reads anything, she never buys anything. She doesn't even go to the coffee shop and read the books that people leave behind like I do.

Every once in a while, however, I catch her looking in my direction. This might sound crazy, but she was much too beautiful to be human, much too flawless. Her black, lacy clothing hugged her slim, curvy body perfectly; her skin was smooth and pale. She had eyes of a striking reddish color and her pale face was shaped with long, silver hair.

Oliver and I saw her the other day at the park. Her name is Ryla.

"Ugh, it's the weird chick." My co-worker, Alexis complained.

Alexis didn't belong in the bookstore; she was, to put it nicely, a slut, who hated

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