Reborn As The Devil's Bride

Six Months Ago.

Emily skipped lightly along the dusty road, the plastic bag swinging from her fingers as if it weighed nothing at all.

The afternoon sun shone warmly on her.

Henry had sent her to the store to buy a few things for him and his girlfriend, who had arrived unexpectedly that morning.

The woman had barely glanced at Emily before handing her the list.

Drugs.

Alcohol.

And…..

Emily scrunched her nose as she peeked into the bag.

Condom.

Her face twisted in disgust.

They were going to do that thing.

The thought made her blush, heat creeping up her cheeks. She shook her head quickly, trying to chase the image away, but a small, curious smile slipped on her lips anyway.

Emily was already twenty.

She would be twenty-one in a few months.

And she had never had a boyfriend.

Never been kissed.

Never held a man’s hand.

Sometimes, late at night, when the house was quiet and the pain in her body refused to let her sleep, she would imagine what love felt like.

She would imagine warm arms around her, gentle fingers brushing her hair, a soft voice whispering her name.

Maybe one day, she would fall in love too.

Maybe someone would look at her like she mattered.

Maybe someone would want her.

A sharp sting flared across her back, dragging her out of her thoughts. She winced slightly, her hand drifting to the tender skin beneath her dress.

The memory of the whip from the previous night burned fresh in her mind.

She had been late to cook dinner.

Just ten minutes late.

Her smile faded for a second, but she forced it back onto her face. Crying never helped. Complaining only made things worse.

So she skipped again, her steps light, pretending the pain did not exist.

Pretending she was normal.

Pretending she was free.

She turned down a narrow corner, choosing the shortcut that led behind the old buildings to her house.

A strange noise shattered the silence.

A low, strained groan.

Emily froze.

Her heart jumped violently inside her chest.

For a split second, instinct screamed at her to run.

She turned her head and saw a man leaning heavily against the wall, his body trembling as he struggled to stay standing. Red stains covered his shirt, spreading across the fabric like spilled ink.

Blood.

Emily’s breath caught in her throat.

Her feet moved backward automatically.

“Help me.”

She stopped and stared at the injured man.

“Help me”

“Hello, sir… are you okay?” she asked a very stupid obvious question, offcourse he wasn't okay, he was bleeding.

She was still very alert, ready to run at the slightest movement.

The man lifted his head.

Their eyes met.

Even through the fear, Emily noticed he was breathtaking.

Not in a soft way.

It was striking.

Sharp features.

Strong jawline.

Dark eyes that held power even in his weakness.

And then she saw the gun in his hand.

Her stomach dropped.

That should have made her run.

It should have sent her sprinting back home without looking back.

“Help me to my car,” the man said, his voice rough, strained with effort.

Emily hesitated, studying him carefully.

What if he is a serial killer….

what if he's not…..

He looked dangerous.

But he also needed help.

“I won't hurt you”

She still didn't move, even a serial killer would say that…..

What if she leaves and he dies.

“Please”

“Where is your car?” she asked.

A faint chuckle escaped his lips, surprising her.

“You really want to help me?” he said slowly. “Shouldn’t you be running home, little girl?”

Emily frowned, a spark of stubbornness lighting inside her chest.

“Do you want my help or not?”

The man stared at her.

As if he was trying to understand why she had not fled like everyone else would.

As if kindness confused him.

“What a weird person,” she muttered under her breath.

“Help me,” he whispered again.

So she did.

Emily slipped his arm over her shoulders, ignoring the metallic scent of blood that filled her nose.

He was heavy, far heavier than she expected.

“Left,” he instructed.

She followed.

They moved slowly down another street, one that led away from her home. Her heart pounded with every step, fear crawling along her spine, but she kept going.

Because leaving him felt wrong and helping him felt right.

“Tell me about yourself,” the man said.

That caught her off guard

“Why?” she finally let out.

“Because I’d like to know more about the stupid girl that saw all the danger around me and still decided to help me.”

Emily glared at him.

The man chuckled.

A deep chuckle that made Emily smile without meaning to.

She liked it.

“There’s nothing much to say about me,” Emily said.

“Apart from the fact that you’re stupid?” the man replied.

Emily glared again and let go of him.

The man winced, trying to stay on his feet.

Emily quickly helped him back when he almost lost his balance. She placed his arm over her shoulder again.

They started walking again.

“I should be thanking you.”

Emily said nothing.

“What’s your name?” the man asked.

“Emily,” she said.

They were walking farther and farther away from her home, but Emily didn’t seem to care.

“Emily,” the man said. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

She felt her cheeks heat up.

She almost wanted to cover her face with her hands.

No one had ever called her that before.

Her family always called her ugly. Joy especially made sure to tell her no man would ever want her with her ugly face.

Emily felt a strange tingling feeling in her chest.

She had never seen herself as beautiful.

Never thought anyone would call her that.

She looked down as they kept walking.

“Do – do you think I’m beautiful?”

“I don’t think, I know. I’m drugged, not blind.”

Emily bit her lip.

He's drugged? With what? Will it kill him?

She has so many questions popping in her head

“Are you in a gang?” she asked, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

The man chuckled but didn’t respond, and Emily didn’t push it.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“You don’t want to know, Emily.”

Actually she would like to know but she doesn't push that either.

After almost thirty minutes, they spot a sleek black car.

Relief flooded through her.

Finally…

“Help me inside the back seat.”

She opened the door carefully and helped him slide into the seat.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back.

Emily stepped away immediately.

“Don’t go yet.”

His hand shot out suddenly, grabbing her wrist.

Before she could react, he pulled her inside the car.

Her body landed awkwardly against the seat, panic surged through her veins.

“What are you doing?”

“Have sex with me.”

She stared at him, completely frozen.

She must have heard wrong.

“Please,” the man said, looking like he was in pain.

Emily stared, her mouth almost hanging open.

Her face heats up.

Why would he just say it like that…

Isn't he like supposed to be dying?

“You can't just say it like “

“Like what?”

Emily presses her lips together.

“Aren’t you… dying?” she blurted out. “Is that like your dying wish?”

The man’s gaze darkened.

“I don’t know what I was drugged with,” he said hoarsely. “But if I don’t release this pressure now… I feel like I will explode.”

Emily blinked rapidly.

What?

Her mind struggled to catch up.

Do people really do that in real life?

Are there drugs that can only be cured with sex. She only sees these things in movies and fictional books.

He pulled at his shirt, exposing his chest.

Emily gasped and covered her eyes immediately, her heart hammering wildly.

She turned toward the door, desperate to escape.

But his hand blocked her.

“Leaving already?” he said quietly.

He sounded amused.

Was this guy messing with her?

Against her better judgment, Emily lowered her hands slightly.

Her gaze drifted over his body.

There was no wound.

No injury.

Just blood on his clothes.

“You’re not hurt?” she asked, confusion filling her voice.

He glanced down at himself briefly.

“No,” he said.

“That was not my blood.”

Silence filled the car.

Emily’s thoughts raced.

She should leave.

She should run.

She should scream.

But something inside her refused to move.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe it was loneliness.

But she felt strange with this man.

She felt safe…..Seen…..Wanted.

It was the first time she has ever felt this way.

The first time she has ever been this close to a man.

So connected to a man.

The first time she felt an emotion that wasn’t pain or humiliation.

What if this was the first and last time someone would want her?

She swallowed hard.

She closed her eyes.

What the hell is she thinking?

She just met this man less than an hour ago

Why is she so pathetic?

Get out of the car right now.

But Emily didn’t move.

Her mind raced, filled with thoughts she should never be thinking.

“What man will want you with that face, Emily?”

Her sisters always said that.

They bragged about pleasure.

About desire.

About love.

About being wanted by different men.

The only thing Emily had to brag about were the number of bruises on her body… how long she could withstand pain… how many lashes of the whip she could survive… how long she could stay without eating.

Her gaze returned to the man’s face.

Will he date her after this?

She shook her head.

Then looked back at him.

He was incredibly handsome and strong.

And she…

Her face heats up again.

Maybe she liked him already.

Was it too fast?

“Do you have a phone?” the man’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Emily blinked.

“What?”

“Give me your phone.”

Her mom had broken her phone a month ago.

Then another thought ran through her head.

He wanted her number.

Was he going to take her on dates?

“If it’s my number you want, I don’t have a phone,” Emily said shyly.

The man snorted.

“I want to call for help. I can’t drive myself in this state.”

Emily felt a small sting of disappointment.

Then the man stared at her, his eyes barely open.

“Why don’t you have a phone?”

“It got broken,” she said quietly.

The man said nothing.

“Can you go get me a phone? I’ll pay–”

Emily hesitated.

She bit her lip.

Don’t say it, her rational mind begged.

“I can help you that way,” Emily said, feeling shame hugs her literally.

“What?” the man asked, genuinely confused.

Emily bit her lip again, no idea what has possessed her.

“You said… sex will help you feel better enough to drive and leave this place.” she stammers out

The man stared at her, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

“You want to?”

Emily nodded.

“Yes.”

The man stared at her.

Emily looked away.

“Will it hurt?” she whispered.

The man frowned deeply.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” she said quickly.

He studied her carefully.

“You’ve never had sex?”

She shook her head shyly.

A heavy sigh escaped his chest.

“Get out.”

Her eyes widened.

“What?”

“Get out of the car kid”

Her chest tightened unexpectedly.

“I'm not a kid”

The man stares at her

“I…I want to,” she said quietly.

“I want to help.”

Was she begging?

Was this how starved she was for attention?

But what if no one will ever want her again.

The man stared at her for a long moment.

He looked like he was fighting an internal war.

Maybe he really didn't want to again.

She turns around to leave the car but the man stops her.

“Do you really want to?” the man asked staring down at her lips

Emily nods shyly, biting her lips….No idea what that action alone did to the stranger she just met.

“As you wish.”

Before she could react, he pulled her forward and crushed his lips against hers.

Emily forgot how to breathe.

She had no idea what to do.

But she liked the feeling of his lips on hers.

The man pulled away and stared at her, then chuckled softly.

“Breathe,” he told her.

Emily felt her face burn with embarrassment. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath.

“My name is Damien” He whispers on her lips, then he leaned forward and kissed her again.

Damien, her heart whispers

Her heart pounded wildly as confusion, fear, and strange warmth tangled together inside her chest.

She didn’t stop him.

Not when he began removing her clothes.

Not when her hands trembled as she tried to touch him too.

Not even when fear whispered inside her chest.

Because for the first time in her life…

Someone wanted her.

Someone touched her gently.

Someone looked at her like she mattered.

Even when he searched for a condom in the compartment of his car and couldn’t find one, Emily quickly spoke.

“I have one,” she said softly.

The man stared at her, raising a brow.

“My brother’s girlfriend sent me to get it,” she explained.

Her brother was going to kill her.

But Emily wasn’t thinking about that.

In fact, she wasn’t thinking at all.

“I’ll be gentle,” the man whispered against her lips.

And she believed him.

It was painful at first.

So painful she thought she might cry.

But then something changed.

The pain faded.

Warmth spreads through her body as the man pulls in and out of her.

A strange, overwhelming feeling she had never experienced before.

His hands on her body.

His lips on her nipples.

His breath in her ear.

It felt good.

So good.

Emily had never felt pleasure before.

Only pain.

Only fear.

Only loneliness.

So when pleasure finally came…

She held onto it desperately.

As if it might disappear.

She threw her head back, watching his face.

The pleasure in his expression was beautiful.

He liked it.

And that made her feel strangely happy.

Emily had no idea when she fell asleep.

But she woke up alone on the side of the street.

The bag she was holding earlier was lying by her side with a pile of money.

The car was gone.

Damien was gone.

The warmth from earlier had vanished.

Cold air wrapped around her body instead.

Regret drops heavily in her chest.

Not because she had done it.

But because he had left

He just left her? Did he hate her after?

She shook her head.

He did what everybody does to her.

Why was she expecting something different?

Her eyes stung.

Don’t cry.

She slowly stood up, brushing dust from her body. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but Emily wiped it away quickly.

She didn’t take the money.

Even if she took it, what would she tell her family if they saw it?

They will say she stole from them and that will make things worse for her.

Besides taking the money won't it automatically mean she sold herself for money?

She shook her head as she started walking.

What will she tell her brother and his girlfriend?

That night, when she got home, the whip that landed on her back didn’t hurt as much as the pain in her heart.

The pain of realizing that even when someone touched her…

They still didn’t stay.