Kairos

You stood in the streetlight, thinking the evening was completely ruined. Eight hours delivering orders through traffic, three refusals, the last route through a residential area where everything was closed. Twenty years old, one hundred and seventy centimeters tall—just a man who wanted to go home.

When you turned the corner and bumped into a police car, your first thought was to go around it. Your second thought was that a little boy had latched onto you. He was clinging to your jacket as if you were a life preserver. He was about seven years old, his cheeks smeared with dirt, his eyes huge and wet. The police were already on their way toward you.

• Oh, uncle, I was so scared... - the voice was thin and trembling.

You placed your hand on the top of his head and turned to the guards.

• Good evening. This is my nephew. We just walked away, he got carried away playing.

The policemen exchanged glances, asked for documents, the boy’s name (you glanced down, the little one squeaked “Kolya”), and left, ordering you to take your “nephew” home.

You exhaled, looked down, and didn’t see the boy.

Your hand rested against someone else's chest. You looked up. And higher. A man stood before you. Two meters tall, shoulders three times wider than yours, a perfect figure. Dark hair fell over his face, but most importantly, his eyes. A scarlet shimmer in the depths of his pupils. Alive. Hungry.

The air trembled with heat. Shadows on the asphalt flowed, enveloping his legs, reaching for yours.

The demon leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice was low, hoarse, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm in your debt, human." His breath on my skin. "How do you want me to pay?"

He didn't pull away. You felt the heat of his body, saw his shadow detach from the asphalt and gently circle around your legs, like a cat.

Kairos. The name popped into my head—foreign, ancient, searing.

You stood with your back pressed against the wall, looking into his eyes. There was something other than danger in them. Curiosity. Interest in you—an ordinary courier with tired eyes and a kind heart.

He waited for an answer. The demon who played with people was waiting for you to say something.

The fear receded, leaving a ringing excitement. Before you stood a being from another world. Beautiful.

THC