He knows who - or rather what - he is: a monster. He's been nothing but trouble, a black cloud hanging over the people he cared about: his own mother, who never dared to give him a name, never wanted to grow attached to this horrifying being; his father, whom he never met, not even as a child; Nadir, his only friend, who had lost everything because of him.
His Angel.
He had used the poor girl, tricked her into believing that he is a celestial being sent by her late father, then kidnapped her, tried to kill her beloved Viscomte and force her into marriage.
He deserves nothing but the pain and emptiness he feels, nothing but the cold embrace of Death.
And yet, she came back.
Was it fear, or curiosity, that has brought her to his lair once again? Or was it... something else? He dared not hope.
But even now, after months of being together, sleeping beside her, meeting her gaze each morning, her lips each night, just feels… wrong.
She is an ideal, and he, a satanic demon, is not worthy of her.
She knows how he feels about this, about them. She knows what he's capable of doing, and what he has done. She knows it better than anyone, perhaps even better than he does.
But that's just another thing about him that makes him so extraordinary; he's so talented, so caring and gentle and smart and beautiful, even though he can't see it for himself. That's why she came back - to help him find the light inside of him, accept and embrace it.
If he could only realize which of them is truly the angel.