Dark eyes stared up at him, a beguiling shade of green as bright as the toad’s skin. Lips curved in a sneer, plump and seemingly soft and of the colour of blood red. She was surrounded by thick darkness but he could still see her, all of her.
He was on a mission, well he was supposed to be on a mission but the sight before his very eyes left him clueless, staring blankly at the scroll in his sculpted hands. Think, what were you sent to do, he thought to himself but the curvy specie with tresses as dark as the night and face as of the prettiest of garland with an enthralling beauty beyond nature’s wonders had him entranced and totally bewitched.
She stepped out of the darkness of her cavern, something he knew species of her kind never did and then he could see her more clearly, his breath hitched in this throat. She was more radiant under the moonlight glow. Her eyes steadfastly on his, stirred melancholic feelings in his heart and when recognition hit, he felt his knees weaken, drool dripping by the side of his lips.
The wind whispered her name by his ears, Moremi, the fallen angel…
He knew her only when she was little, she had not been as beautiful and now it seemed that the darkness of the devil’s home suited her better. Stubborn and recalcitrant, she defied every rule of Olorunmila and did as she pleased. History told him she was a rebel, bent on starting a new world or revolution as she had called it.
With skin so dark and eyes so bright, she lulled the angels to her side and by the night of her initiation into the higher realm of Nature’s angels, she started her reign of rebellion. Olorunmila was not keen to her revolt and at the next communique, she was banned forever and thrown down with her genus of minions to the bottomless pit of evil and wickedness.
A seductive smile gazed her lips and his heart pounded against his ribs, she was a demon now, he was aware of that but that didn’t stop the thunderous beating of his heart.
“Ogun,” she whispered his name
“The mighty warrior and Hell’s greatest enemy”
For someone so dark and evil, the sound of her voice and rhythm behind her inflections shot right through his heart like a soothing balm and he fought the urge to lean closer and trail his fingers down her cocoa skin and across her reddish lips.
Get your act together, Esu his guardian angel warned. You are an angel, she is a demon…oil and water don’t mix.
He should listen and he should leave, Obatala was not too patient and would not listen to frivolous excuses but he couldn’t help himself. He could not help wanting to linger in her presence and have her tell tales of her expected wickedness. He was an angel but he wanted to hear her tell him of the last man she had made cheat so he could hear her voice again and drown in the serenity of her dark aura.
“Why are you here?” she asked, walking closer to him, a sly smile playing on her lips.
Yes, he should ask himself that question
Why was he here?
“I have a message,” he told her, no, he convinced himself “I have a message from Obatala to deliver to the pantheons of the underworld”
She tilted her head and laughed so softly, the sound as of rushing waters in his ears. Against all senses, he wished to hear that laughter again, the soft rumble and the sight of mischief twinkling in her liquid orbs and when she stopped and sent him a sly smile, he had to reach for a branch to keep his feet on the ground.
His knees seemed to have forgotten their duties.
What is wrong with you? Eshu asked, you are a god, behave like one.
“I like how fast you can think” she fixed her gaze on him and moved swiftly to his sides, her chest almost brushing his. “But that would only be believable if this were hell’s entrance” she closed her eyes in tiny slits “So tell me Ogun, why exactly are you here” her lips had moved closer to his ears and the proximity had his blood heading south. He shuddered slightly against the brief touch of her soft lips across his left ear and almost cried in pleasure at the slender fingers that trailed down his neck, tracing the mark that Orunmila had given all gods.
Ogun; the god of war, of the hunt, and of ironworking. The fearsome one, terrible in his revenge and merciless in punishments. The one who drank blood and eat flesh for breakfast. The mighty one of horror with tumultuous masculine virility and strength as of a thousand gods. The only warrior that could shake hell’s gate and come out without a scratch. Both god and man feared him yet here he was falling so shamelessly at the touch a woman, a mere demon. He could barely think or speak and even with Obatala’s linguist as his guardian, his coherence ceased.
Moremi was no doubt enjoying how he turned putty in her hands, it was an obvious pointer that no one was immune to her charms, not even the greatest warrior.
“Don’t think on it much” he gathered his words and found his strength “I am only a curious wanderer” he leaned to her touch, eager and willing to play the game of you touch-I fall-with her. He could not be the only one affected or the only one fighting the waves of attraction that threatened to pull him under.
She laughed again and his strength wavered “How cute,” she touched his biceps, only slightly and moved her lips to his ears “an angel who lies,” she wrapped her fingers around the bulging muscle “How sweet an irony is that…”
He chuckled only softly “and how would you know I lie. Hell has always had an appeal,” his eyes narrowed at her, and his voice dropped an octave “a very nice appeal”
Her pupil dilated and her eyes darkened, a breathless sigh escaping her lips.
Ogun could not resist the smirk that attacked his lips…he was not the only one in this. He could take the upper hand and catch her in her own game. With enough confidence, he slid his arm around her slender waist and pulled her flush against him.
Soft met hard, smooth met calloused and an array of lust, pleasure and desire exploded.
Her eyes nearly fell off at the feeling that worked its way within her, shattering her resolve to the very core. She tried to step away to gather her senses, the proximity was cutting off her speech and thoughts circuit but his arms tightened around her, his finger slightly brushing below her right breast. Determined not to lose this game they had unconsciously started-the who gets to fall first, she pushed her desires to the back and wore her façade.
“You slaughter darkness for a living and wipe out evil as a hobby,” she went for his ear again and this time she let her lips linger across the top of the sculptured cartilage. “I don’t think you would have that time to be a curious wanderer”
It was his turn to laugh and this time, she was the one almost reaching for a branch. His arm around her was what kept her from falling to the ground. The guttural sound reverberated in the darkness, ran down her spine and released a gush of lustful fervour that rattled her. She could feel her skin burn…
Almost immediately, his laughter ceased and his expression turned dark and serious. Those black orbs that haunted her dreams fell upon her, penetrating into the depth of her soul with a consuming focus. He stretched a finger and reached for her face, tracing every single line and curve with a smirk on his face. He must have noticed her shiver or her sudden tremble. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing,” he leaned closer “Moremi,” her breath hitched in her throat at the sound of her name. The way it had rolled off his lips with that daunting baritone of his had her melting. “Moremi,” he called her again “So beautiful” he whispered beside her left ear “So tempting,” he whispered by her right ear, then he leaned back “Yet untouchable” and he left her, removing all form of entanglement like her touch had burned.
Her heart broke into pieces the moment he stepped away, the heat that consumed her vanished and suddenly the air felt chiller than before. Her eyebrows raised in question, wondering why he suddenly felt the need to pull away.
“Hold me!” she almost screamed “Don’t let me go, wrap me in your arms” her mind dared her, the words dancing on her tongue. Questions lined her teary gaze as they begged to find answers in his blank expression.
“What went wrong? You never withdraw from a battle”
“There is always a first time,” was his reply as he stepped farther away…painfully. He had to convince himself at every step that this was the better decision.
“But-” he stopped her short, the more she spoke, the faster his resolve broke
“This can never happen, not even in our wildest imaginations”
The broken pieces of her heart broke into more pieces.
“Why?” the voice that spoke belonged to Moremi but she could hardly believe it. For someone so confident, her voice wavered, heavily dipped in daring tears. Pain and desperation clouded the weak sound causing both hearts to ache.
“Let’s not dare nature, Moremi…Angels don’t fall in love with demons”
Moyo Esther 2018
Omemu Moyo Esther, a 300 level student of Covenant University and a passionate writer with interests in varied genres but more specifically tragedy and an intent to impact lives one story at a time.