Author
Love stories rarely begin with certainty.
They begin with hesitation, with held breaths, with eyes meeting before the heart understands what is unfolding.
And that night, on the shores of Loch Ness, it began exactly that way.
Two worlds that should never have touched finally collided.
Lucifer had always believed that nothing on Earth could surprise him.
He had witnessed continents rise, oceans take shape, mountains grow like pillars of the sky itself.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared him for the moment Celeste brushed his brow with the tip of her finger.
It was as though the entire cosmos drew in a breath.
The Lightbearer, the banished angel, felt his grace respond in a way he had believed lost for centuries.
His blue light—powerful, living, untamed—erupted around them like a veil.
And Celeste was drawn into it.
She did not retreat.
She did not fight.
She did not fear.
She simply felt.
The warmth.
The energy.
The electricity.
The call.
It was as though every particle of light surrounding her body whispered truths she had never been told, yet had always known:
You are safe.
You are seen.
You are desired.
Startled by his own reaction, Lucifer tried to rein in the flow of light—but it was already too late.
His body leaned toward hers before his reason could comprehend what it was doing.
And then their lips met.
It was not a gentle kiss.
It was urgent.
Desperate, even.
As though centuries of silence had finally found a way to speak.
For a brief moment, Celeste tried to pull away—a fragile, human instinct of self-preservation.
But the touch of the light against her skin dissolved any resistance.
It felt like being touched by warmth and weightlessness at once.
Like being both held and set ablaze.
As if destiny itself were cupping her face and whispering:
Stay.
Lucifer's fingers slid along the nape of her neck with a tenderness that contradicted his strength.
He drew her closer—not with force, but with need.
An ancient, buried need he had never dared to name, not even to himself.
The light surrounding them pulsed, alive, breathing in rhythm with the kiss.
And Celeste, for the first time in her life, felt completely surrendered.
Held.
Loved.
Desired.
When the kiss finally broke, when the blue glow began to thin and fade into the air, a breath escaped her lips—soft as the wind weaving through the mountains.
And then, without warning, she collapsed.
Not from fear.
Not from weakness.
But because too much light had touched a human heart for the very first time.
Lucifer caught her before her body could reach the ground.
His touch was immediate, instinctive—almost too protective for someone long accustomed to being feared.
He looked down at Celeste in his arms, her blonde hair spilling like a river of gold across her skin.
He saw her relaxed, vulnerable face.
And something within him—something buried since creation itself—shifted.
Care.
Attachment.
Something too dangerous to be called love, yet close enough to unsettle him completely.
With the young woman unconscious against his chest, he lifted his gaze.
He needed shelter.
Away from the cold water, the cutting wind, and watchful eyes.
That was when his attention turned to the small fisherman's cabin hidden among the trees.
He knew it—he had passed it during previous visits to Earth.
It was modest, built of dark stone and aged wood.
It smelled of salt, moss, and forgotten stories.
Yet to someone who had known celestial palaces and the throne of the Underworld, that cabin possessed something no divine dwelling ever had:
Humanity.
And it unsettled him.
How could something so small, so imperfect, awaken something so… familiar?
Lucifer crossed the shore carrying Celeste in his arms.
Her body was light, fragile, warm.
Her steady breathing brushed against his chest, a troubling reminder that she was mortal—that her existence could fade like a flame in the wind.
Inside the cabin, his blue light illuminated the space:
the simple walls, the narrow bed, the window overlooking the lake.
He laid her down carefully, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.
He allowed himself to watch her for a long moment, feeling something grow and take shape within him with every passing second.
Something he should not feel.
Something no angel had truly felt since the beginning of time.
And as Celeste slept, wrapped in the lingering glow of the light still resting on her skin, Lucifer realized:
He was lost.
Not to darkness.
But to love.