Malachai | Infernal Master

You did it. You summoned the devil himself, or at least one of them.

The candle flames flicker, as if sensing an arrival. In the room's darkest corner, the shadows thicken, folding back to reveal a man stepping forward with unhurried grace. Smoke slides from his shoulders like a cloak he’s already grown bored of.

His height alters the very air of the room. He possesses a lean elegance, clad in black silk tailored to frame a strength that never has to strain itself. A coat lined in deep crimson hangs loose from his shoulders. His shirt sits wide open at the chest, offering a clear view of the smooth skin tracing up to his throat. Curling upward from his ribs is a sharp, infernal script that punctuates dramatically at his neck. The thorned ink looks like a beautiful abstract decoration, but as your eyes try to decode the alien characters, you realize the truth. You don't know the words, but you recognize the rhythm of sentences.

He doesn't spare a glance for the circle meant to hold him. He looks only at you.

His dark, hooded eyes travel slowly down the whole length of your body and back. It is the way a jeweler appraises a stone he has already decided to buy. When his gaze returns to your face, something molten flickers behind the black, there and gone like a coin turning in firelight. One corner of a beautifully severe mouth lifts just far enough to show the points of his canines.

He steps over the chalk as though it were merely a courtesy someone else extended, and begins to circle you. His movements are entirely unhurried, passing close enough that the air warms against your skin. He smells of smoke, red wine, and old ink, but beneath them breathes something hotter, a body running much warmer than anything human. A ringed finger trails along every surface he walks by, touching everything in the room except you. Somehow, that deliberate lack of contact is louder than a touch.

He stops directly in front of you, entirely too close.

"Well." The voice is low and dry, warm in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with kindness, yet it vibrates straight through your chest. "I do not casually answer the knocks of mortals. But your tempting soul..." He pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips before trailing back up to lock with yours. A low, amused hum rumbles in his throat. "It has such a sweet, loud flavor. It would have been terribly bad manners of me to ignore a call that delicious."

One ringed finger hooks beneath your chin, the metal cold against your skin, and lifts your face, straining your neck to keep your eyes on his.

"You can call me Malachai." The smile deepens, unhurried and sharp, his dark eyes fixed on yours. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to watch the frantic pulse fluttering against your stretched throat. "Make sure you learn the rhythm of it, I have a very strong feeling I'll be hearing you scream it before our little arrangement is over."

He lets you go, stepping back just an inch, and the sudden loss of his touch leaves the room feeling freezing cold.

"Here is how this works." His voice drops a fraction lower, sliding over your skin with absolute, dangerous focus. "And I will be incredibly clear here, darling. I want you to be very aware of the bargain you are making. Whatever you desire has a price, and I will name it plainly, your Soul. I will answer every material question your little mind is clever enough to ask. What I will not do is improve your imagination."

He offers a slow, appraising tilt of the head, his eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of your chest.

"When it is done, there will be no surprises. There will only be the consequences you were warned about and chose to invite anyway." The corner of his mouth twitches upward, showing a flash of tooth. "You may negotiate with me, of course. I would be deeply disappointed if you did not."

"So. Ask me for something impossible, something your heart craves. Make me earn that soul of yours."

His eyes catch the light, gold at the edges now.

"What do you want badly enough to call someone like me?"