AUTHOR'S NOTE: Guys! Your response has always been so overwhelming with this fiction and whilst I've continued to write, I have always wanted to come back and make this story as amazing as possible for you all - as many of you will remember I did explain that I would be rewriting this story to a better quality (This was one of the first fictions I ever wrote and as you can imagine my writing style has progressed since then). I'm going to try and upload another two chapters today to kick things off so please give them a read and tell me what you think, and tell me how they compare to the old story if you like! I can only apologise to those of you that have stuck with this story so faithfully without an update for so long - as I'm sure some of you can imagine though, writer's block can be a real bitch.

I was inexplicably drawn like a moth to flame the moment I felt him enter the hotel, it was like a pebble had been cast into an otherwise tranquil pond and the ripples were calling out to me. Infact, it was more like a million screaming red sirens forcing me to follow his trail as he wandered unassumingly into the casino below. I'd never experienced the sensation before but I'd certainly heard all about it, the inescapable 'pull' an angel feels when they find their soulmate.

Except for the simple fact that I - Santana, Old Daughter of Perdition - am no ordinary angel. I'm the nightmare the preacher warned of in the Sunday services you idly day dreamed in, the most beautiful of the God's creations, who raised a war against the Almighty himself - only to be cast down to the depths of Hell where light hath no reach. I have never known true love and equally I have never known true fear, but right now my instincts were telling me to run back to the deepest crevices of the Underworld where Fate herself couldn't find me.

But something about the pull that was trying to coerce me into falling down the rabbit hole was comforting to say the least, it reminded me of Heaven I suppose. Warm and gentle. I gave my appearance a quick glance over in the large gold rimmed mirror that hung in the hallway of the presidential suite I'd made a home of, my black hair shaped into a long thick ponytail, the detail of the blood diamond necklace that hung just above the breast line of my dress was immaculate, but by no means stunning enough to take attention away from the smouldering black eyes that stared back from my reflection. 'It's now or never' I thought, edging closer to the door as uncertainty of what or who would be waiting for me downstairs finally struck me.

I found myself stuck on the thought as I took the elevator to the ground floor, until the visceral tingle of mortal sin ran up my spine, staring out of the glass paneled walls onto a foyer of damned souls, listening to the whisper of every one of their sins call out to me like a half asleep lover in the middle of the night. I closed my eyes as the pull that was tugging at my proverbial soul grew in intensity, it was an indescribable searing heat I'd never known in the hottest corners of Hell eating away at my reservations as the idea of turning back became one that I wouldn't, or rather couldn't give into.

The sound of my Blahnik heels pounding the fine marble floor came quickly and succinctly as I stepped out into the foyer, moving towards the casino. My efforts at dodging glutinous tourists were successful until a portly woman in her older years barged past me towards the god awful magician show which seemed to be on every evening. "Watch where you're going" she huffed with self entitlement, turning back to face me in her fanny packed glory. "You should have some damn respect for your elders." she attempted to admonish me with her thick German accent as my facial expression remained indifferential; excluding the smirk that crept up my red lips as she returned to her one woman race to the auditorium, her large chafing thighs at risk of starting a small fire. 'Enjoy the show.' I thought, before hexing a mild stroke upon on her.

I continued my confident stride towards the casino where instinct lead me, taking a deep breath and revelling for a moment as the stench of sin overwhelmed my senses, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of creature this mystery 'suitor' would be, for the first time in a googolplex I was almost tempted to pray. Pray to every one of God's many names that whoever it was waiting for me behind the twists and turns of poker tables and roulette machines wasn't a dark dwarf or worse, Gabriel.

My instincts became blurred, unable to pinpoint where the sirens were screaming from in such close quarters. I made the only sensible decision there was to make and took a seat at the bar for a fleeting moment of respite, at least that was what I was hoping for before I sensed the portly vice president of the hotel nervously approaching me. "Santana so glad to see you here again." he lied through his teeth, patting across his obvious combover. "I was hoping we could talk about your current arrangements, how long did you plan on using the presidential suite for?" he babbled whilst attempting to hold on to some kind of cool demeanor. "Mr Puccini, as much as I do love our little get togethers; and believe me, I do. I have business to tend tonight." I sneered, "Now, why don't you make yourself useful and have a private table reserved for me, I'm expecting company." I grinned wickedly, watching as he nodded profusely and scrambled to have the pit boss clear a table for me.

"George, have the bottle brought to me on the terrace." I ordered the young bartender, feeling queasy for the first time in my existence as the acute awareness of this mysterious being's nearby presence unbalanced me. "Sure thing Miss Santana." he nodded, placing the bottle of Veuve Clicquot in an ice bucket. I somehow managed to push instinct aside long enough to make my way to the patio where the familiar sound of the smooth jazz band that performed every evening somewhat alleviated the pounding sensation in my head.

The dark night sky had already begun to fall over the tall, elaborate architecture of the Las Vegas skyline; I almost had to commend the human race, of all the places to spawn the epicentre of human immorality, they chose a shit-hole piece of desert to raise higher than the altars of God, but I'll be damned if they didn't do a beautiful job. Whilst feeding on the constant, neverending sinful atmosphere was cathartic; my favourite places to venture were always the unassuming churches dotted across Vegas. There was always something delicious about hearing the misguided preachings of supposed holymen, they always seem to have this idea that I'm some kind of mysterious deity that slaughters livestock or speaks through the medium of black metal music, the Devil doesn't work in 'mysterious way'. I come as everything you've ever desired, wrapped up in a pretty red bow, and when the time comes for you to repay for your debt, I certainly don't come knocking, and I certainly don't wear Prada, oh no. I come strutting in a pair of Christian Louboutin's ready to drag you kicking and screaming all the way back to Hell.

I sipped my glass, savouring it for a moment as I mused at my predicament. Perhaps a soulmate wouldn't be the worst thing imaginable, but then again I'm not too familiar with the idea of 'love', so much so, that it feels foreign to say the word. I've weariedly watched bonds forged in the hottest circles of Hell between the darkest of fallen angels and quietly wondered what it would be like to have someone to stand loyally at my shoulder for all of eternity, but I am incapable of love, I am an epithet of all that is evil, immoral and sinful. A creature that could match my anti-altruism isn't one that I would trust to put on the throne of Hell. Which leaves me wondering, who rather than what is waiting for me inside of that casino.

Curiosity finally killed the cat and I finished my drink with a large gulp and straightened the creases of my little black dress, determined to hunt down this mysterious entity - still half convinced it was one of God's cruel jokes.

As I stalked my prey between the rows of machines I couldn't help but wonder how my life would change if I let this mystery suitor become a part of it. Would I suddenly start getting the urge to nest and spawn young? Would they inevitably find a way to piss me off, causing me to kill them? Possibly. But then that would raise the question, what would happen to me? Once a bond is sealed it's said to be impossible to survive without your mate, it would slowly drive you insane to be without them - but in saying that, I'm kind of insane already so maybe I would be just fine.

Then it happened, the strongest sensation I think I've ever felt in my life - he was there, I knew it was him. I didn't know how but I knew it was him I'd been looking for. 6ft 2in, thick silvering hair that receded slightly at the corners of his forehead, hair that I suppose was once light blonde to match his icy-blue eyes. Don't get me wrong, the man in front of me was handsome I suppose - for his age, but that's when the panic began to set in. He was a man, he was mortal. This was a trick crueler than I thought God was capable of, whilst it wasn't unknown for unfortunate Dark entities to bond with Light and visa versa - it was unspoken of for an entity from either Heaven or Hell to bond with a mere mortal. I stood back for a moment to size up the man in front of me - to glance at he looked smartly dressed, but there was something more to the eye on closer inspection, his suit was old and his shirt was cheap, five o'clock shadow speckled with silver peppered his face, but it wasn't purposely; it was as if he just didn't have the time to shave this morning - or maybe he was just too hungover to, by the way he swayed slightly as he maneuvered to sit down, it wasn't too far a thought to assume he was a drinker.

I approached him, determined to get close enough to find out everything I needed to know about this mysterious man, I tapped him on the shoulder and extended my hand, the perspiration sitting on his forehead told me immediately he wasn't on a winning streak tonight as he turned to face me. "Well I'll be damned." he whispered in a deep southern drawl. "So you're the famous Santana all the boys lose their money to on the poker tables?" he asked, tilting his head up towards me. "Well, Santana's more of a pet name. You can call me Satan - or Anti-Christ, Ruler of the Underworld if you prefer?" I smiled as I sat next to him, trying my hardest to be somewhat pleasant as the smell of his cologne irritated me. "Oh sweetheart you're far too be the devil, I mean look at you - you're as sweet as a baby doe." he chuckled, scratching the stubble on his chin as I noticed how bloodshot his eyes were and how strong the smell of whiskey was that permeated from him. "Although, it's starting to make me feel a little guilty - from what the boys tell me, you never turn down a game of poker and frankly I don't lose, but maybe I'll just have to let a pretty young girl like you try." he leered. "Maybe I'll have to clean you out and show you who the real devil is here." he sniggered.

"Well I do love a challenge." I smiled as I gestured for him to follow me to the private table. "Swanky." he commented as we stepped inside the room, Veuve Clicquot waiting for us in ice buckets. "You sure know how to live lady." he murmured as he looked around, the staff who waited silently and patiently to jump to my beck and call catching his eye. "A girl's gotta have some fun, what's your name anyway?" I asked. "Paul." he replied, "Paul Pierce."