Chapter Text
they say that hell is crowded, yet,
when you’re in hell,
you always seem to be alone.
& you can’t tell anyone when you’re in hell
or they’ll think you’re crazy
& being crazy is being in hell
& being sane is hellish too.
those who escape hell, however,
never talk about it
& nothing much bothers them after that.
I mean, things like missing a meal,
going to jail, wrecking your car,
or even the idea of death itself.
when you ask them,
“how are things?”
they’ll always answer, “fine, just fine…”
once you’ve been to hell and back,
that’s enough
it’s the greatest satisfaction known to man.
once you’ve been to hell and back,
you don’t look behind you when the floor creaks
and the sun is always up at midnight
and things like the eyes of mice
or an abandoned tire in a vacant lot
can make you smile
once you’ve been to hell and back.
“Lost” by Charles Bukowski
⛧────────────⛧
It was only to be expected that Perfuma would go a little overboard with the flowers, but Catra had no idea just how far she would take it. Apparently, Perfuma was not a florist to be underestimated. Flowers of every kind, size, and color Catra could imagine filled the vast hall. The venue was already large and crowded for her friend Scorpia’s wedding ceremony, but it felt even bigger because of the improvised botanical garden her wife had created. There were vines and branches draping down the walls.
Catra hadn’t wanted to come today for several selfish and pathetic reasons, but she would never fail to honor her friend’s hard-won happiness in sacred matrimony. Even she—who had long since given up on finding the woman of her dreams—had enough self-respect to gather herself and not look bitter or resentful of someone else’s joy.
The sad part was that a small piece of her did feel that way, especially after watching the brides—now wives—share a passionate kiss at the altar and then their first dance together in the center of the hall, with everyone admiring them.
Catra had designed both of their dresses, putting all her care into them and tailoring each gown to their tastes and preferences with painstaking attention. The result, unsurprisingly, was that they both looked breathtaking. So Catra was making the most of the attention and the endless questions about who their designer was, hoping to secure new clients and future opportunities. You never knew who in a room like this might need her services next week.
With that in mind, Catra stood at the bar with a champagne flute in hand, charmingly advertising herself to a cluster of eager women curious about her little atelier in the city.
She was surrounded by admiring faces when she saw her for the first time. The woman had her back turned and wore a criminally sexy red dress. Her back was broad and sharply defined, lean muscle clearly honed by years of training. Blonde hair was swept into a loose bun, pinned with a gold accessory that gave the style a more sophisticated air. She was talking to a man who, for reasons known only to himself, had chosen to expose his abs at a wedding, and another man with a ridiculous mustache.
Catra could barely focus on her own conversation anymore, because the woman turned in profile and revealed herself to be unfairly gorgeous. Stunning. Gray-blue eyes set in a face so lovely and symmetrical it almost seemed offensive. Catra stays in the conversation, but her eyes keep darting back and forth, casting furtive, discreet glances between the group of people and the woman on the other side of the room. She smiled at something Mustache said, and then, as if sensing Catra’s piercing stare, suddenly looked over her shoulder. Her smile vanished.
Maybe Catra had that psychotic look again—the one her friends always said she got whenever she fixated on something—but it completely disarmed her. Her shoulders dropped and she looked away immediately, afraid of getting called out for staring at a straight woman at a wedding. She couldn’t assume things. Just because two women had gotten married here didn’t mean everyone present was equally open-minded, and plenty of them were probably straight.
After strategically handing out the business cards she’d brought in pursuit of future clients, Catra forced a polite smile at the women and excused herself to her table. Scorpia and Perfuma had spared no expense, renting an enormous hall packed with tables, and thankfully the singles table had been placed conveniently close to the buffet.
Catra grabbed a few appetizers that looked safe to eat and sat down alone. She crossed her legs in her impeccable burgundy suit and nibbled at the food. Her mind replayed the beautiful ceremony as she wondered whether she’d ever be lucky enough to have a ring slipped onto her own finger someday.
Someone behind her cleared their throat. Catra turned—only to find the blonde standing beside her with a shy smile on her lips.
“Is this seat taken?”
Oh my god, Catra thought, reeling. Even her voice was angelic.
Catra shook her head and gestured for her to sit, which she did. The dress fell past her knees, but even so, she hesitated before crossing her legs, modest and faintly awkward. She looked uncomfortable enough that Catra nearly laughed at the expression on her face.
“I guess nobody at the singles table actually wants to be seen here,” Catra teased, lifting her glass to her lips.
The blonde seemed amused and let out a soft laugh, which made Catra glance at her. She was already looking back, head tilted slightly to one side, a loose strand of hair falling free from behind her ear.
“I think it’s an opportunity.”
“How so?” Catra asked, genuinely curious.
“Well…” she began, glancing around at the other guests helping themselves to the lavish dinner and being served expensive drinks with increasingly flushed smiles. “It’s a display window. If someone sees you sitting here alone, they might take it as an invitation.”
Either Catra had lost her mind, or this angelic woman was flirting with her. Given her recent luck in romance, she assumed it was the first option.
Catra looked down at the place card in front of the woman, but it had the name of some man she didn’t know on it. Catching her glance, the blonde picked it up, rose with complete calm, and disappeared into the crowd of guests and waiters. A few seconds later she returned and set down a newly folded card on the plate.
It bore a different name now: Adora Grayskull.
Then she leaned toward Catra’s own folded card and smiled.
“May I?”
Catra, who had apparently forgotten how words worked, nodded.
Adora reached out with elegant fingers and turned the card so it faced her. Her eyes flicked over the name once, then back up to Catra’s face.
“Catra,” she said softly, as if testing the shape of it on her tongue. “That suits you.”
“What does that even mean?” Catra asked, because it was either that or admit the sound of her own name in this woman’s voice had just short-circuited her brain.
Adora’s smile deepened. “It means you look exactly like a Catra.”
“That clears up nothing.”
“I know.”
Catra huffed a laugh despite herself and took another sip of champagne, mostly to have something to do with her hands. Up close, Adora was somehow even more unfairly beautiful. There was a tiny scar near her forehead Catra hadn’t noticed before, and faint freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose beneath the careful makeup. Human details. Dangerous details. The kind that made someone feel real.
“So,” Catra said, forcing herself to sound casual, “you just go around stealing seats at weddings often?”
“Only when there’s a pretty woman sitting alone at the singles table looking like she’d rather bite someone than mingle.”
Catra nearly choked on her drink. “I did not look like that.”
“You absolutely did.”
“You don’t even know me.”
Adora tilted her head again, infuriatingly serene. “I know you designed the dresses.”
Catra blinked. “How?”
“You’ve been the most talked-about person here after the brides.” Adora gestured vaguely toward the room. “Every ten minutes I heard someone say, Whoever made those gowns is a genius. Then I looked over and saw you pretending not to enjoy the attention.”
“I was networking.”
“You were glowing.”
Catra stared at her. “You flirt with everyone this aggressively, or am I being specially selected?”
A faint flush rose to Adora’s cheeks, pink against gold skin. “I’m actually terrible at flirting.”
“That was terrible?”
“This is me trying very hard.”
Something warm and traitorous unfurled in Catra’s chest. She ignored it immediately.
“Well,” she said, setting down her glass, “for someone terrible at flirting, you did abandon your assigned seat, forge a new place card, and corner me at a vulnerable buffet-adjacent location.”
Adora laughed, bright and genuine. Heads turned nearby. Catra hated that she noticed.
“I panicked,” Adora admitted. “I saw you earlier at the bar.”
“Oh, so you were staring too.”
“I was not staring.”
“You looked over three times.”
“You counted?”
Catra opened her mouth, then shut it. Adora’s grin turned victorious.
“Wow,” Adora said. “You counted.”
“I hate you already.”
“No, you don’t.”
The confidence of it sent a thrill down Catra’s spine. She narrowed her eyes. “Bold assumption.”
Adora leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Educated guess.”
For one absurd second Catra forgot there was an entire wedding around them. The music, the chatter, the clink of silverware all faded under the weight of gray-blue eyes fixed solely on her.
Then someone loudly dropped a fork nearby and reality snapped back into place.
Catra leaned away first. “So how do you know Scorpia and Perfuma?”
“Actually, I don’t know them,” Adora admitted, lowering her gaze a little, embarrassed. “My twin brother over there”—she pointed toward a chatty blond man who was now talking to the guy in the crop top—“has been friends with Perfuma for years. She gave him relationship advice once when he went to her flower shop.” Adora huffed a soft laugh and glanced back at Catra. “So he decided I needed to get out of the house for once and attend a normal, mundane social event.”
They talked for a while longer after exchanging numbers, and Catra could have sworn she was hallucinating a little from the alcohol. She wasn’t drunk yet—not even close—but the champagne in her system could perfectly explain the woman sitting across from her.
Adora was too perfect. She had a twin brother, was twenty-nine, owned a dog named Swift Wind, had loving parents who were still together and living in some small town, and a stable, well-paying career that Catra still hadn’t fully understood.
“So where do you work again?”
“Hell.” Adora looked straight into Catra’s eyes.
“Ah. Right. Of course.” Catra paused and nodded, assuming it was some kind of joke.
“I’m a demon.”
Adora said it with a faintly sad smile, leaving Catra with no idea what to do with that information. Apparently Adora had the sense of humor of a teenager who spent too much time reading garbage online. Catra shook her head, trying not to sound invasive or annoying as she searched for something relevant to say.
“Well, maybe I could work there someday. I’m not making eighty grand a year yet, but it sounds promising.”
Adora laughed, and it was the best sound Catra had heard in years.
“You know,” Adora said, “I would never normally ask this, but I feel like I can be myself with you.” She held Catra’s gaze. “Would you like to come home with me?”
Catra would usually say no. In any situation, with any flirtation, on a first date—or even a fifth—she would say no. But Adora was not just anyone, and that was obvious in everything about her: her posture, her mannerisms, the hypnotic pull she carried. The hell thing had been silly, sure, but who was Catra to judge?
“If you say no, that's fine. I'll still be happy I sat at your table.”
And that was it. Catra immediately hated the way that made her feel.
“Alright.” She finished her champagne and stood, smoothing down her clothes.
Adora smiled warmly and went to tell her brother she was leaving. Catra found Scorpia, congratulated her, and wished her a happy honeymoon, but not before Scorpia nearly crushed her ribs in an overly enthusiastic hug. Both newlyweds noticed Adora waiting by the exit and exchanged a knowing, amused glance.
Not wanting to monopolize her friend any longer, Catra turned and strode confidently toward Adora, who let her gaze travel over Catra’s body in a way that was undeniably seductive.
They stepped outside and waited together for an Uber, which Adora discreetly called on her phone. When the car arrived, Adora opened the door for Catra, then slid in beside her with effortless elegance. The ride wasn’t long, and they spent it in silence, carefully avoiding looking at each other like two ridiculous girls.
When the car stopped in front of a condominium far too upscale to be normal, Catra tried to keep her composure. They were in the most expensive part of the city, and at this hour the streets were quieter than usual.
They got out, and Adora guided her gently through the immaculate marble lobby, one hand hovering at Catra’s waist, then into a sleek mirrored elevator.
“Before we go any further,” Adora said as she pressed the button for the penthouse, and Catra fought back a sigh, “I need to know if you’re alright with my work.”
Her tone was completely serious, and Adora wasn’t smiling. Wow, she really commits to the bit, Catra thought.
Impatient now, and unwilling to lose the chance at what promised to be a very good night, Catra nodded and met Adora’s eyes.
“Yes. I have absolutely no problem with it, demon.”
Maybe she overcommitted to the roleplay a little, but it had an immediate effect on Adora. It was as if someone had fired the starting gun.
Adora surged forward like a starving animal. Her eager mouth captured Catra’s lips with surgical precision, pinning her against the wall with her tall, strong body. Her hands slid down Catra’s waist to grip her ass, squeezing and roaming shamelessly. Catra moaned against her desperate mouth and tipped her head back, offering up her throat. Adora wasted no time, trailing kisses and soft bites along the exposed skin.
The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open to reveal the fanciest place Catra had ever seen in her life.
Adora was still busy kissing her neck, working lower toward the base of her throat, so she didn’t notice Catra staring in awe.
The apartment was gorgeous and enormous, with rich wood details and a sweeping view of the entire city through massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Some corners leaned rustic, others sleek and modern, but every inch of it was in impeccable taste.
“My God.”
That made Adora stop abruptly and look at Catra. Then she followed Catra’s gaze to the apartment behind her.
Adora sighed and returned to what she’d been doing to Catra’s body, leaning forward so her weight hovered pleasantly over her. Catra was still dazed. She hadn’t expected Adora’s little joke to pay off this well. That apartment had to be worth several million at least.
“You must be really good at what you do,” Catra said as Adora released her lips and started walking, still attached to her, guiding them clumsily but seamlessly out of the elevator and into the apartment.
“I’m terrible at it, actually.” She shrugged Catra’s blazer off and tossed it somewhere behind them, then immediately turned her attention to the buttons of Catra’s shirt with hungry determination.
Catra cupped Adora’s face and forced her to look up. She found a gaze that was ravenous and desperate, leaving no room for doubt. The sweet woman from the wedding had vanished, replaced by someone fervent and starved. Catra slid her hands over Adora’s bare back and squeezed the warm muscle there, savoring the feel of it.
They kissed again, deeper this time, Adora’s tongue slipping into Catra’s mouth without restraint or shame. Catra gasped between touches, and whenever they broke apart for breath, Adora only led her farther down the hall toward the bedroom.
The bed was enormous.
Adora started undressing, and Catra followed suit. When they were both bare, Adora turned to her and simply stared, openly admiring. Catra had never felt so seen. So thoroughly appreciated.
Adora herself was gorgeous—her body sculpted like some Renaissance statue brought to life. She turned to the bedside table, opened a drawer, retrieved something, then faced Catra again with a wicked look in her eyes. The toy looked small enough, maybe, but Catra knew that meant nothing in practice.
She wondered if Adora could possibly surprise her any more than she already had. Or somehow exceed the absurd expectations Catra had already built around this entire night.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Catra woke in sheets that were absurdly expensive and impossibly soft, moonlight spilling through the massive windows, her entire body reminding her of several excellent decisions.
She turned her head and found an even better sight.
Adora was asleep on her stomach beside her, golden hair a mess, expression peaceful, one hand still reaching unconsciously toward Catra’s waist.
Beautiful in a criminal sort of way.
Catra looked away from the scene and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then smiled to herself.
The answer was simple.
Yes.
Adora was very good at that, too.
As if reading her thoughts, Adora mumbled something incoherent in her sleep, then wrapped an arm around Catra and pulled her fully against her chest, trapping her there in warm, secure strength.
Catra didn’t even try to fight it. She slipped back into a deep, delicious sleep.
✦🔥✦
In the morning, Catra woke slowly and peacefully, no alarm clock screaming at her to get up. It was Sunday, after all.
Her hand searched the bed beside her, but found no Adora there. She lifted her head and looked around the enormous room.
Nothing.
Adora was nowhere in sight.
Catra stretched, then found something to wear among the scattered remains of her clothes on the floor. She stepped out into the wide hallway. The hallway alone was probably the size of the apartment she shared with her cat.
When she reached the kitchen, she stopped dead.
Adora had made a full breakfast: pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon. She was also making toast, standing with her back to Catra, fully dressed—to Catra’s immediate disappointment.
“Good morning! I was going to bring it to you in bed.” She turned, smiling. The sight of her like that might genuinely have been supernatural.
“Morning,” Catra said, hesitating before sitting at the table loaded with inviting, fragrant food. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”
No one had ever treated her like this. It was almost pathetic to admit, but she felt awkward about it. Her ex had dumped her by text and announced she was going back to her ex, a man who made a living playing shooter games online. Expectations had been subterranean for a while now. This was… a lot.
“It’s okay. I wanted to.” Adora smiled again and turned back to the toaster. “Do you like your toast crispy or soft?”
Catra stopped looking at the food and looked at her instead.
Adora wore black jeans and a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to her forearms. She looked freshly showered and entirely too put together, like she already had somewhere to be.
“Crispy,” Catra answered, shifting in her chair when Adora brought the plate over.
They sat and ate in a pleasant silence, exchanging the occasional glance and stupid little smile.
Then Adora’s phone rang with an obnoxious jingle. She rolled her eyes and excused herself, saying it was work.
That was the price of all this, Catra thought as Adora stepped away to answer privately. Apparently even Sunday mornings weren’t off-limits. Catra understood that well enough. Her own schedule was constantly bent around the demands of her growing atelier. Sometimes rest had to be sacrificed for stable income.
When Adora came back a few minutes later, she looked upset.
“Catra, I’m sorry, but I need to deal with some things for work.”
“On a Sunday morning?”
“Hell doesn’t take days off.” Her smile was small and sad, shoulders drooping.
“It’s fine. I’ll get dressed and—”
“No.” Adora hurriedly waved both hands. “No, it’s fine. Stay as long as you’d like. Borrow some clothes if you don’t want to leave in a suit this early. I already told my driver to take you home whenever you’re ready. Take all the time you need—he’ll be waiting downstairs in the lobby.”
Catra’s jaw dropped. “Your what?”
Adora blinked, not understanding the note of panic in Catra’s voice. “My driver. He’ll take you. Don’t worry.”
“You have one? And you’re leaving in what?” The question might have sounded redundant, but it felt critically necessary. Everything about this was absurd.
“On my motorcycle.” She turned and picked up a black helmet from a side table.
“Right. Of course.” Catra nodded, still dazed—whether from confusion or the night before, hard to say.
“I really am sorry.”
Adora crossed the room, kissed her softly, sweetly, then pulled back with a silly smile.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you, kitty. I’ll call you!”
Then she turned and disappeared down the wide hall toward the elevator.
Catra stood there for two full minutes. Then she let out a high, strangled squeak and bounced in place, overcome with pure giddy excitement.
She was, at heart, a simple woman. Sometimes the most basic things could hit her chest like a battering ram. Everything about this was so silly, so simple, and Catra had been completely blindsided. She could not have been more dazed.
She finished breakfast and packed the leftovers into the enormous refrigerator, which was, naturally, absurdly well-stocked. Maybe Adora lived with someone.
Catra fought the urge to snoop around the luxury apartment and wisely decided not to invade the privacy of a woman she’d met less than twenty-four hours ago.
Even the bathroom was elegant and spacious, nearly decadent. It looked like a five-star hotel, complete with far too many towels for one person. Catra wondered if the whole thing was some elaborate prank Adora had arranged just to mess with her—until she found a little note resting on top of the towels.
A crudely drawn cat, surrounded by tiny hearts.
She had thought of everything. Even this.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Catra repeated to herself, trying to outsmart a feeling she didn’t even have a name for yet.
She chose the smallest sweat set she could find from Adora’s closet and resisted the urge to smell it like a lunatic. She gathered her own clothes from the floor and combed through her hair, still messy enough to advertise last night’s indecency.
When she reached the lobby downstairs, she found a tall man standing motionless near reception like a statue.
“Miss Catra.” He bowed and escorted her to a sleek black SUV.
Not even in her most ridiculous fantasies had she imagined something like this. She still half expected a camera crew to jump out from behind a bush and reveal it had all been an elaborate prank.
The ride home was quiet and comfortable.
When Catra unlocked the door to her apartment, she was already looking around for Melog. The cat came sprinting toward her, meowing desperately and rubbing against her leg for attention.
“Hey, buddy.” Catra crouched and ran a hand over Melog’s soft fur. They started purring immediately. Too cute. “Sorry I’m late, but I have good news.”
Melog pulled away and ran to the empty food bowl with a pleading look.
“Right. You only think with your stomach.”
Once she fed they, Catra dropped onto the small couch buried under fabric scraps and abandoned clothing ideas. She sighed.
“I might have met the most incredible woman alive, and I think none of this is real.” She stared at the ceiling fan and closed her eyes, trying to absorb everything.
Melog meowed through his frantic eating, as if asking what that meant and what it meant for her. They’d always had a nearly magical understanding of each other.
“She’s beautiful, rich, adorable, and kind.” Catra paused. “I am completely screwed.”
Hours later, sometime in the afternoon, Catra’s phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
When she checked, it was Adora—sending entirely too many texts.
hey
Then: finally done for today
Then a string of confusing emojis: happy faces, exhausted faces, some combination of both.
Then: hope everything went okay
Catra smiled like an idiot while reading them.
She would deny it to the grave if necessary.
yes, thank you
Catra hesitated, unsure whether she should send anything else, when three little dots appeared on the screen, showing Adora was already typing another message.
can I see you tomorrow after work?
yes, of course
If Catra had any doubts that Adora wanted to see her again, they were quickly erased.
great
Then, immediately after, Adora sent more cheerful emojis.
I want to take you lots of places, but I know a great one to start with
Catra’s eyes widened.
Oh no. To start with? What the hell did that mean? There was going to be more of this?
One thing was certain: Adora could claim to be a demon all she wanted, but this was the most angelic anyone had ever treated Catra.
✦🔥✦
The next day, Catra kept checking the time on her wristwatch as she waited on the sidewalk outside her atelier, tapping her foot impatiently. It was late afternoon, so the streets were full of people heading home from work, but it wasn’t hard to spot the black car pulling up across the road—or the smiling blonde stepping out to meet her.
Adora wrapped Catra in a hug, then kissed her—just a soft press of lips—before flashing the goofiest smile Catra had ever seen. Catra fought the irritating warmth trying to settle in her chest.
Apparently Adora already had everything planned, because she led Catra toward the wealthy part of town. Well, technically the driver did.
The restaurant was ostentatious, and like places like that often were, calm and nearly silent. Catra instantly regretted celebrating too early. There was no way in hell she could afford a meal here.
“Adora, I think this is a bit much for me.”
Catra blushed, suddenly feeling grimy in a place like this. Maybe she was sweaty. Maybe her clothes weren’t good enough for somewhere like this. Adora herself was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and worn canvas sneakers. She only shrugged and smiled.
“Don’t worry about it.” They sat at a small reserved table. “Besides, I know the owner. He owes my boss a few favors.”
Adora winked, and Catra nearly laughed. Of course. Her boss. The devil. It was still early for teasing. The night was young but...
Catra narrowed her eyes as soon as the waiter walked away.
“You know the owner,” she repeated.
“Mhm.” Adora reached for the bread basket and offered it to her first. “Very charming guy.”
“And he owes your boss favors.”
“Several.”
“Your boss who runs… Hell.”
Adora smiled serenely. “That’s right.”
Catra stared for a full beat, then snorted into her water glass. “You are committed to this bit.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve kept this joke going for two days.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“Sure.” Catra tore off a piece of bread. “And I’m royalty.”
Adora’s eyes gleamed with barely contained amusement. “You can act like a queen. I don’t mind. You can be bossy.”
“And what if you end up liking it too much?”
Adora nearly choked, bringing a hand to her mouth as she tried to recover. The sound drew a few discreet glances in the elegant restaurant. Catra felt a ridiculous amount of satisfaction over it.
When Adora calmed down, she leaned across the candlelit table.
“You’re dangerous.”
“You invited me.”
“I know.” Her voice softened. “Best decision I’ve made all week.”
That irritating warmth in Catra’s chest came rushing back. She attacked the bread so she wouldn’t show anything.
The waiter returned with wine, appetizers Catra couldn’t pronounce, and that attentive silence only expensive restaurants seemed capable of sustaining. Catra tried not to look intimidated, which naturally meant Adora noticed immediately.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Pretending you’re not impressed.”
“I’m not impressed.”
“You just read the menu upside down because you got distracted by the chandelier.”
“It’s a stupid chandelier.”
Adora laughed softly, the sound escaping through her nose, then reached across the table and brushed her thumb over Catra’s wrist. A casual touch, almost nonexistent. Catra felt it everywhere.
“You don’t have to feel uncomfortable with me,” Adora said quietly. “If you hate places like this, we can leave right now.”
Catra blinked. “What?”
“We could get street food. Maybe burgers.”
“No, idiot. I don’t hate this.” She looked around the gleaming dining room, then back at Adora. “I just... don’t belong in places like this.”
Adora’s expression changed. Less playful now.
“Then they’re badly designed places,” she said simply. “Because you belong anywhere you decide to be.”
Catra went still.
That was a low blow. A complete low blow.
“You can’t just say things like that,” she muttered.
“Why not?”
“Because then I have to sit here and act normal afterward.”
Adora’s smile turned slow and warm.
“You don’t need to act normal around me, because I have no intention of doing that with you.”
Catra still didn’t fully understand the weight of that sentence. Maybe Adora was referring to her whole infernal roleplay thing—but who knew?
The food arrived before Catra could answer, saving her from whatever she might have said next.
Dinner passed in a blur of stolen bites from each other’s plates, easy teasing, and shared stories. Catra learned that Adora had once broken her arm trying to jump a fence after a lost frisbee. Adora learned that Catra had once thrown a shoe at a client who called her designs “cute.”
“She deserved it,” Adora declared immediately.
“She absolutely did.”
By dessert, Catra had relaxed enough to lean back in her chair and simply watch Adora talk. Her hands moved when she explained things. Her face was expressive in a way that was impossible to ignore. She smiled with her whole mouth. She listened as if everything mattered.
It was very dangerous.
When the check never came, Catra narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. She had to do the dirty work and begin the formal interrogation. She couldn’t put it off any longer—not under these circumstances.
“Do you use drugs?”
Adora didn’t seem bothered by the abruptness of the rude question. “No, never. I drink sometimes, but I have zero tolerance for alcohol.”
Catra hesitated, then took another sip of wine and grew bolder. “Do you take any prescription medication?”
It was a silly question, nearly unnecessary, but Catra had once had a bad experience with someone who said she didn’t use drugs but turned out to be a hypochondriac. She hadn’t meant to upset Adora, but she watched her body visibly stiffen.
“Only migraine medication.” Adora leaned back in her chair, to Catra’s displeasure, putting more distance between them. “Occupational hazard, I guess.” She tapped her left temple twice, subtle and thoughtful, and Catra had no idea what she meant.
She needed to think. Maybe Adora was some kind of financial executive dealing with numbers all day. Or maybe she was still joking about Hell and referring to horns. Either way, it reminded Catra of her next rude question.
“Why did you choose this career?”
Adora’s blue eyes met Catra’s, and all Catra saw there was sadness. Deep and solemn. It stole the breath from her lungs. Even so, Adora still wore a faint smile, which somehow made Catra feel even worse for asking.
“I didn’t choose it.”
She drummed her fingers on the table, avoiding Catra’s gaze, then sighed before continuing.
“When I was six, I desperately wanted a unicorn. My parents told me that was impossible. I refused to accept that, so determined to have my unicorn, I prayed to every power and entity I could think of for one.”
Adora stopped speaking and looked at Catra.
“And?” Catra prompted when it seemed like she wasn’t going to continue.
“And the worst possible thing answered. I signed with the only word I knew how to write—my first name. That was enough. I sold my soul without knowing it, because I couldn’t even read yet. When I turned eighteen, I was summoned and started working for them.”
It was all so absurd, but Catra didn’t dare make a sarcastic comment. It clearly wasn’t a joke to Adora. Her face still looked distant and sad, and it was making Catra uneasy. The worst part was that Catra was genuinely willing to overlook all of it if it meant getting some part of Adora that wasn’t pretending.
“Can’t you just tear up the contract? Or quit?”
“I’ve tried, Catra. Believe me, I’ve tried everything. I’ve tried revoking clauses, appealing, arguing with higher-ranking demons, all of it. There’s no way out. They wrote it so there wouldn’t be one.”
“For how long?” Catra heard herself ask, fully drawn into the story now.
“For the rest of my life.” She paused, then gave a dry laugh. “And beyond that. I doubt they’ll have room for me upstairs. I’m completely screwed. The money is just another part of the prison. It’s hard to notice without bars.”
“Maybe one day we can go over it properly.”
Adora laughed for real this time.
“It’s forty-five hundred pages. But sure, maybe one day.”
“Or I could just threaten your boss.”
“Of course. I’d love to see you beat up Shadow Weaver.”
Now that she seemed less tense, Adora laughed more easily. Catra joined in, even without understanding everything completely.
When they finally calmed down, Adora took Catra’s hand this time and didn’t let go.
“So,” she said, her thumb brushing over Catra’s knuckles. “Would you still let a demon take you somewhere else tonight?”
Catra squeezed her hand once.
“Depends,” she replied. “Are you finally going to show me your horns?”
Adora smiled sideways. “Of course. But not tonight.”
She stood, and Catra followed, still holding Adora’s hand, though she would have denied that detail under torture.
“Not tonight?” she repeated as they made their way through the restaurant. “You can’t just promise horns and then withdraw the offer.”
“I absolutely can.” Adora glanced over her shoulder, amused. “I’m mysterious, remember?”
“You’re annoying.”
“You like me.” Adora smiles.
“That remains under review.”
Adora laughed and pushed open the restaurant door for her. Cool evening air spilled over them, carrying the sounds of traffic and the distant pulse of the city. The black car was already waiting at the curb. Adora grinned and opened the door for Catra again. “Get in, your majesty.”
“You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Catra slid into the back seat with as much dignity as possible. Adora followed beside her, close enough that their thighs brushed immediately. Catra pretended not to notice. She failed when Adora noticed her pretending. The car pulled smoothly into traffic. City lights streaked across the tinted windows, flashing gold over Adora’s face in passing intervals. Catra hated how cinematic she looked just sitting there.
“So where are we going?” Catra asked.
“If I told you, it would ruin the surprise.”
“You assume I like surprises.”
“I assumed you didn't like it.”
“Then why—”
“Because you like me.”
Catra made an offended noise that had no real conviction behind it. Adora only looked more pleased with herself.
The drive carried them uphill, leaving the crowded center behind. Streets widened. Buildings thinned. Trees appeared, dark and elegant under streetlamps. Catra slowly realized they were heading toward one of the normal residential areas in the city.
She narrowed her eyes. “If this is another place where the napkins cost more than my rent, I’m leaving.”
“It’s not.”
When the car pulled up in front of a small house in the suburbs, Catra was genuinely confused.
The house was small, yes, but cozy. The whole neighborhood was. It was already past eight, so everything was quiet and still.
“What place is this?” Catra asked, not looking at Adora, only out the window.
“My parents’ house.”
Catra turned so quickly to look at her that her neck cracked. Adora just shrugged.
“You’re joking.”
When Adora didn’t answer, Catra’s jaw dropped in horror.
“We’ve only gone out twice.”
“Well, technically three, if you count the wedding.”
“Are you serious?”
Adora only nodded. She looked genuinely regretful about it. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Catra heard a noise outside.
The front door opened, and two people stepped into the doorway.
“Sweetheart? Is that you?” a red-haired woman called, adjusting herself in the doorway. Her husband—presumably—stood beside her, craning his neck to get a better look.
“I told them about you when my idiot brother turned it into a huge piece of gossip,” Adora said quietly. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
Catra turned to stare at her in complete shock.
“You told your family about me after one wedding and one date?”
“It sounds worse when you say it like that.”
“It sounds exactly as bad as it is.”
Adora made a face, which was deeply satisfying for about half a second. Then the front door opened wider.
“Adora!” the redhead called again, now waving both arms. “Are you sitting in there making that poor girl panic?”
“Yes!” Catra shouted through the closed car window before Adora could answer.
Adora covered her face with one hand.
“Please don’t join them.”
The driver, traitorously amused, was already stepping out to open the door. Catra briefly considered locking herself inside and spending the rest of her life in the backseat. Instead, she took a deep breath and climbed out with all the dignity possible for someone about to endure an accidental family introduction.
The night air was cool and smelled faintly of freshly cut grass and some neighbor’s late dinner. Porch lights glowed warm and yellow along the quiet street.
The red-haired woman came down the front path before Catra had even fully straightened up.
“You must be Catra.” She took both of Catra’s hands in hers, warm and enthusiastic. “I’m Marlena.”
“Mom, relax,” Adora muttered.
“What? I’m being welcoming.”
“You’re vibrating.”
“I’m excited.”
Still dazed, Catra managed a “Uh. Hi.”
Marlena beamed.
“She’s adorable.”
“Oh no,” Adora said into her hand.
The man at the door approached more calmly. Broad shoulders, a few streaks of gray through dark hair, kind eyes, and the expression of someone who had lived with chaos for decades.
“Randor,” he said, offering his hand. “Sorry about all this.”
Catra shook it automatically. His grip was firm and warm.
“Where’s my brother? This is his fault Catra is being put through this,” Adora said.
Evidently, Adora wasn’t ready to talk honestly about her work yet—or take responsibility for family-related disasters. Marlena pointed over her shoulder into the house. Catra tried to hold it in, but a laugh slipped out when she saw Adora’s stern, determined expression.
“See?” Marlena said triumphantly to Adora. “She already likes us.”
“She laughed once,” Adora shot back.
“Which is basically a declaration of love.”
Before Catra could respond, something came barreling out of the front door at alarming speed.
It was huge. White. Fluffy. Galloping.
“No!,” Adora said. “Swift Wind—” but it was too late.
The dog launched himself directly at Catra with the force of a natural disaster. She stumbled backward with a yell as two giant paws landed on her shoulders. An excessively wet tongue immediately licked her entire face.
“Adora!” Catra squeaked, half laughing, half dying. “Your horse is attacking me!”
“He’s a dog!” Adora tried uselessly to pull him back by the collar.
“He’s the size of a pony!”
Swift Wind whined happily and licked Catra again, wagging his tail hard enough to create his own weather system.
A blond man with an annoyingly familiar face stepped in and took hold of the collar with the calm ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.
“Down.”
The dog sat immediately.
Then leaned all the weight of his devotion against Catra’s legs.
Catra looked down and found the gigantic animal staring up at her with shining eyes and absolute adoration. Swift Wind’s tail thumped against the floor like a marching band drumline.
“Good to know my dog respects you and not me,” Adora said, sounding more amused than offended.
“I’m charming.” Then he looked at Catra and helped her back upright with as much dignity as the situation allowed. “Nice to meet you, Catra. I’m Adam—the older and much more incredible sibling over there.”
When he pointed toward Adora with exaggerated disdain, the dog at his feet let out a yawn in apparent agreement.
“He adored you,” Marlena said. “He never does that.”
“He does that with everyone,” Adora muttered.
“Not with this level of commitment,” Adam corrected, patting the dog’s head. “Usually he waits ten minutes before knocking guests over.”
“I’m not a guest,” Catra replied automatically—and froze.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward her.
Adora’s eyebrows lifted. Marlena clasped her hands to her chest. Adam looked delighted. Randor was suppressing a smile.
“I meant—” Catra started.
“Did you hear that?” Marlena said brightly. “Inside, family.”
“I’m going back to the car,” Catra announced to everyone.
Adora gently caught her wrist before she could turn away.
“Please stay,” she said more quietly. “I know this is a lot. I’m sorry. I just… wanted them to meet you.”
That dismantled part of Catra’s resistance immediately.
She looked at Adora, at the genuine nerves hidden beneath all that confidence, at the family waiting with sincere warmth, at the ridiculous dog leaning against her leg.
Then she sighed dramatically.
“If anyone asks embarrassing childhood questions, I’m stealing the silverware.”
“We use stainless steel,” Adam replied.
“Then I’m stealing the dog.”
Swift Wind barked once, delighted.
Adora smiled with visible relief and squeezed Catra’s hand.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you where I used to hide during family game nights.”
Adora’s family, unsurprisingly, was incredible. Catra kept that thought to herself, but even as an orphan she knew what family love looked like when she saw it. And this house had more than enough of it. They were close, always teasing each other, full of inside jokes and casual commentary about each other’s lives, their parents constantly wanting to hear more about their absurdly accomplished children.
There was an obvious rivalry between the twins, which Catra found weirdly cute and entertaining. Adam bragged about ridiculous things and Adora tried to one-up him, and vice versa. Apparently their previous battlefield had been their salaries, though that war had clearly been won by Adora. Now the competition had shifted to their respective partners.
They were all gathered in the small living room eating an overly sweet apple pie when Adam loudly announced that his amazing girlfriend had earned her doctorate. Adora laughed openly, which earned her a growl from Adam.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, crossing his legs in false dignity. Adora was sitting with her legs spread, leaning forward.
“Nothing, I just think it’s funny that—”
Their mother interrupted before Adora could finish.
“Enough of that. Don’t drag your girlfriend into your pointless competitions with your brother, Adora.”
Catra froze and forgot how to breathe. No one else seemed to notice what Marlena had just said.
Catra froze with her fork halfway to her lips and suddenly found herself unable to breathe. No one else seemed to notice what Marlena had just said.
The whole world seemed to shrink around Catra.
The room was exactly the same—the worn but comfortable couch, the smell of cinnamon from the apple pie, Swift Wind sprawled across the rug like a domesticated bear—but everything sounded far away.
Girlfriend.
Marlena had said it with the same ease someone might comment on the weather. No hesitation. No strange look. Complete casualness, zero formality.
Girlfriend.
Adora, meanwhile, nearly fell off the couch laughing.
“Mom,” she said between cackles.
“What?” Marlena asked, genuinely confused. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Apparently, yes,” Randor murmured, sipping his coffee with the calm of a man who knew how to keep clear of incoming explosions.
Adam immediately leaned forward, sensing drama the way a shark smells blood.
“Wait.” He pointed his fork at Catra, then at Adora. “You two aren’t dating?”
“Adam,” Adora warned.
“What? I need context.”
Catra finally managed to lower her fork to the plate before her hand started shaking too visibly.
“We’re not,” she said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “We’ve gone out…” She glanced at Adora. “Twice.”
“Three times,” Adora corrected automatically.
“The wedding doesn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts.”
“Adora,” Catra growled, her face burning.
Marlena pressed a hand to her chest.
“So you’re not dating yet.”
“No,” Catra and Adora answered in unison.
“I see.” Marlena nodded with suspicious gravity. “Then you’re in the pre-dating phase.”
“That’s not a thing,” Catra said immediately.
“It is,” Adam shot back. “It’s when two people are obviously crazy about each other and keep wasting time because of pride.”
“You just described eighty percent of your relationships,” Adora commented.
“And all of them memorable.” Adam wore a smug grin.
Catra narrowed her eyes and looked at Adora.
“What exactly did you tell them about me?”
To her credit, Adora looked guilty for a full two seconds.
“That I met a beautiful, funny, intimidating woman.”
Adam made a gagging face. “Gross.”
“That she threatened me several times.”
“For good reason,” Catra muttered.
“That I really liked her.”
Adora’s voice came out quieter this time. Less performative. Less playful.
The whole room seemed to notice the shift, because even Adam went silent for a second.
Catra blinked.
Adora was looking directly at her, no joke in her eyes at all. Just raw, disarming sincerity.
“And that I wanted you all to meet her,” Adora finished, speaking to her family now but never looking away from Catra. “Because… I don’t know. It felt important.”
“And because I told them,” Adam muttered so quietly almost no one heard him.
Catra had no idea what to do with her own body in that moment. She felt too warm, too exposed, too alive. So she did the only thing she knew how to do when emotions got too big.
She attacked.
“Are you always like this?” she asked Adora. “Or do you only emotionally kidnap people on special occasions?”
Adora smiled slowly.
“Only with you.”
That was so shameless Catra kicked her in the shin on reflex.
“Ow!”
“Deserved,” Adam commented.
“Agreed,” Randor said without looking up from his cup.
Marlena pointed her fork at Catra.
“If you decide to break my daughter’s heart, I’m taking your side. But I’ll be disappointed.”
“Mom!”
Catra laughed for real this time, head tipping back, startled by how easily the sound came out of her.
When she looked back at Adora, she found her watching like that laugh was the best thing that had happened all night. Oh, that was dangerous. Very dangerous.
Adora leaned closer, brushing her knee against Catra’s on the couch.
“Want to run away with me for five minutes?” she whispered.
“What for?” Catra whispered back.
“So I can recover from my public humiliation.”
“You caused this.”
“And yet I still need support.” Adora pouted and gave her the look of a dog abandoned by movers.
Catra pretended to think. “Maybe.”
Adora slipped her hand over Catra’s, hidden between the couch cushions. “Kitty.”
Catra stood immediately.
“Five minutes,” she announced.
Adam booed dramatically from the couch. Marlena waved a hand as though dismissing a teenage couple. Randor simply raised his cup in silent resignation. Swift Wind tried to follow them upstairs and had to be intercepted on the third step by Adam.
“Traitor,” Adora told the dog.
Swift Wind barked once, without remorse.
Adora led Catra down the upstairs hallway, still holding her hand. The house was irritatingly cozy: family photos on the walls, old wood creaking softly underfoot, warm yellow lights that made everything look softer.
“Your home is offensively welcoming,” Catra muttered.
“Thank you?”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I’m accepting it as one.”
Adora opened the last door in the hallway.
Her bedroom was surprisingly normal. For someone who now had so much money, Adora had come from a much humbler place.
It wasn’t large like her current bedroom. It was neat, bed made with military precision, bookshelves full of random books, an immaculate desk, and walls covered in the remnants of an absurdly competitive adolescence. Medals hung from hooks. Trophies lined the shelves. Framed certificates from races, sports tournaments, student leadership awards—ridiculously normal things. Even Catra didn’t have that many.
Catra walked slowly through the room, taking it all in.
“Volleyball team captain. Regional fencing champion. Athlete of the year.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been unbearable since childhood.”
“I was very hardworking,” Adora said, puffing out her chest and putting her hands behind her back in an exaggerated attention stance.
“You were the girl who raised her hand before the question was finished.”
Adora looked offended. “That is slander.”
Catra kept looking around. There were family photos, some of Adora and Adam as teenagers in aggressively competitive poses, one of Swift Wind as a puppy chewing on a trophy. But one absence stood out immediately.
“Where’s the rest?”
“The rest?”
“College. Diplomas. Embarrassing graduation pictures. Any evidence of a normal adult life.”
Adora leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“I didn’t go to college.”
Catra turned to face her slowly.
This beautiful, rich, strange woman full of crooked answers was standing in her childhood bedroom surrounded by teenage overachiever medals and absolutely no signs of college. Like she’d gone straight from high school to CEO of something absurd.
Or to Hell, according to her.
“You really expect me to believe that story?” Catra asked, walking toward her.
Adora didn’t back away.
“Which one?”
“The one where you work in Hell.”
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“You’ve also never explained anything.”
“I’ve explained lots of things.”
Catra let out a humorless laugh at that.
“You said you sold your soul at six for a unicorn.”
“And I still think it was an unfair deal.” Adora’s expression turned sad again, and Catra couldn’t tell whether it was real or not.
So Catra stepped forward until she was only a breath away.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You came into my bedroom while my family is downstairs. Please be reasonable.”
Adora was smiling in that slow, confident way that made Catra want to bite somebody. So she did the only sensible thing possible: she planted both hands on Adora’s shoulders and shoved her back against the wall.
Adora made a small surprised sound, then smiled even wider.
“Ah,” she murmured. “The queen got impatient.”
“Shut up.”
Catra kissed her before she could say anything else.
Adora kissed back immediately, hands sliding down to Catra’s waist, gripping and pulling her closer. The kiss was hot, firm, full of that irritating confidence that made Catra forget entire sentences—and her own name for a moment.
She only pulled back far enough to breathe.
“Last chance,” Catra said, still pinning Adora to the wall. “Tell me the truth.”
The bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room. For one second—just one second—Adora’s shadow seemed to grow behind her. Stretching. Curving above her head into two distinct points.
Horns.
Catra blinked.
At the same moment, Adora’s blue eyes darkened, too deep, almost black at the center. Something warm moved through the room like an invisible current of air.
Then it was gone. As quickly as it had appeared.
The shadow returned to normal. Her eyes were just eyes again. Blue, clear, beautiful, attentive.
Catra went still.
Adora tilted her head.
“Catra?”
She blinked again and let out a short laugh, far too nervous for her liking.
“That wine at the restaurant was terrible.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Catra grabbed her shirt again. “I’m trying to decide whether you’re insane or I’m delayed-drunk.”
Adora raised her hands to Catra’s back, stroking gently.
“Could be both.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“I could try another way.”
“Don’t you dare start talking mysteriously right now.”
Adora laughed softly, then rested her forehead against Catra’s, cautious now.
“Would you be scared if I were exactly what I say I am?”
Catra should have answered a thousand different ways. She should have joked, teased, dodged the subject, laughed at the whole absurdity of it.
Instead, she said the only truth available.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
Catra brushed her thumb along Adora’s jaw, studying that absurdly beautiful and maybe supernatural face.
“Whether you’d still kiss me like this.”
Adora smiled slowly.
“Kitty,” she murmured. “That would be the least scary part.”
Downstairs, Adam shouted something incomprehensible, followed by an enraged bark from Swift Wind.
They both went silent for a second. Then Catra huffed. “Your family ruined my dramatic moment.”
“They do that a lot.”
“Great.” She kissed Adora again. “Five more minutes.”
✦🔥✦
The days passed quickly. Catra learned fast that the sun could rise in an incredible way, and she never wanted it to stop again. Adora was incredible. The sex was, too. Her presence was comforting, her manner easy, and she treated Catra so well that sometimes Catra wondered if any of this was actually happening.
Catra had received very little in her life, yes, but now the lack of love she’d been given felt painfully obvious. Sometimes Adora didn’t even do anything remarkable, but every time she came up with some new little gesture, Catra could barely stop her heart from leaping in her chest. The whole situation was becoming emotionally dangerous in a very short amount of time.
Days later, Scorpia returned from her honeymoon and found Catra, immediately noticing a new look on the face of her longtime friend. She walked into the atelier still sun-kissed from her honeymoon, arms full of grocery bags and carrying entirely too much energy for one person. She looked at Catra for three seconds, then her eyes went wide.
“Oh no.”
Catra didn’t even look up from the hem she was sewing. “Hm.”
“You have the face of someone in love.”
The needle slipped and jabbed her finger.
“Shit.” She yanked her hand out from under the fabric. “Where the hell did that come from?” Catra asked, already irritated.
“Absolute truth, that’s where.” Scorpia dropped everything on the floor and flopped dramatically onto the couch. “Tell me everything. Name, height, profession, and whether I need to threaten her.”
Catra huffed. “Her name is Adora.”
Scorpia let out a high-pitched squeal.
“Scorpia!”
“Sorry! Involuntary. Is she pretty?”
Catra stayed silent for far too long.
Scorpia clutched her chest. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Painfully.”
“Tall?”
“Ridiculously.”
“Rich?”
“Alarmingly.”
Catra answered as briefly as possible, refusing to indulge the emotional conversation any further. Scorpia looked moments away from crying with joy.
“And does she like you?”
Catra stopped fussing with the fabric. “I think so.”
Scorpia softened immediately. “And you?”
Catra grimaced and ducked her head. “That’s the problem.”
Scorpia stood up and crushed her in a hug that was far too tight.
“This is wonderful!”
“I can’t breathe.”
“You’re happy!”
“I’m in serious emotional danger, Scorpia.”
Scorpia released her only to narrow her eyes.
“Wait. What’s wrong with her?”
Catra hesitated.
“She says she works in Hell.”
Scorpia blinked and went deathly silent.
“Uh… like… finance?”
“I don’t know!” Catra snarled. “She says it like it’s literal.”
Scorpia thought for two seconds, then put on the most playful expression possible. Obviously no one was going to take that seriously.
“Does she have horns?”
Catra opened her mouth, then closed it again. Scorpia screamed and laughed all over again.
At that exact moment, the building buzzer went off.
Both of them turned and saw Perfuma standing in the doorway with coffees in hand and a bakery bag, wearing a floral dress and flip-flops. Catra assumed the honeymoon-in-Hawaii vibe still hadn’t fully worn off for the happy couple.
Perfuma walked in smiling like she carried her own sunlight. Scorpia ran to her immediately.
“Babe, Catra is in love!”
“Hey, that is not—”
Perfuma blinked in surprise, then looked at Catra with immediate interest, cutting her off.
“Is that true?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes it is,” Scorpia corrected, taking one of the coffees from her wife’s hand. “She admitted everything just now. The woman is gorgeous, tall, rich, and romantically supernatural.”
Perfuma went still for a second, then a slow smile that clearly meant oh, how cute took over her face.
“Catra…” Perfuma walked over calmly, set the bakery bag on the cutting table, and placed her hands on her hips.
“Can I know her name?”
“Adora.”
Perfuma smiled in a very telling way. “Ah.”
Catra narrowed her eyes. “What does that ah mean?”
“Nothing major.”
“Perfuma…” Catra’s tone dropped low and threatening.
“It just means I know an Adora.”
Scorpia gasped like gossip had been delivered straight from the heavens.
“You know her? That’s amazing!”
Perfuma nodded with irritating serenity. “Her brother showed up at my flower shop years ago in complete panic because he wanted to confess to his girlfriend. I helped him pick the flowers and rehearse the speech. After that, we became good friends.”
Perfuma grabbed a muffin and sat on the stool by the sewing table.
“Adora is sweet.”
“She’s weird,” Catra corrected.
“That too.”
“And she says she works in Hell.”
Perfuma thought for a moment.
“Well… she was always private about work. I never heard anything about that.” Perfuma let out a nervous little laugh.
So Adora didn’t go around telling everyone about the Hell thing. As far as Catra remembered, none of that had been mentioned once in front of her parents that night.
Scorpia smacked her wife’s arm, scandalized. They immediately launched into a conversation far too sweet for Catra’s end-of-work patience about romance and partnership when Catra’s phone buzzed on the table.
All three of them looked at it at once.
Scorpia clapped a hand over her mouth and Perfuma smiled knowingly.
Catra picked up the phone carefully. On the screen was a message from Adora:
Can I steal you tonight or are you busy being gorgeous and difficult?
Catra locked the screen immediately, face burning, but she still couldn’t hide the small, annoying smile stuck on her face.
Lately, Catra had seen more of Adora than she had of anyone else in a very long time. A very long time. So one way or another, she had already seen how things worked. Sometimes Adora came with the driver, sometimes she ordered an Uber for some reason. Rarely, she used her own car, a luxury sedan. Today, she had come on a motorcycle. And according to her, today was special. Catra had a vague idea of what that might mean, but she was still skeptical.
When Adora stopped the bike and removed her helmet in an aggressively sensual way, her hair got tangled across her face and ruined the whole effect. Catra had to fight not to laugh.
Without saying anything, Adora handed Catra a helmet and waited for her to climb on behind her. It was one of those bikes that screamed down the road like it wanted to kill someone. Catra could only hope Adora was skilled enough not to accidentally kill both of them.
The ride to the apartment was short. Catra was greeted by the doorman, who already recognized her from how often she came and went now. He gave her a discreet nod from beneath his cap.
“I don’t think he knows my name yet.”
“Oh, he definitely does. Everyone here recognizes you by now.” Adora stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for her floor.
When the doors closed, Adora hovered over Catra, pinning her against the wall without actually touching her. Catra closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the heat and the sensation of Adora looming over her.
The instant she opened them again, still a little dazed, she froze in shock.
In the brushed steel reflection of the elevator, where Adora should have been, there was only a distorted shape—something misshapen, with warped shadows along its back and two sharp points rising from its head.
That alone might have meant nothing. The mirror was unclear enough to blame distortion.
There was only one problem.
Catra’s own reflection was sharp as daylight, and in it she could clearly see her own wide heterochromatic eyes staring back.
Catra screamed and shoved herself away from Adora, who looked at her in confusion, hands raised like she had done something wrong.
“Catra? Are you okay?”
This whole Hell thing really was getting into her head. Cold sweat broke across her forehead and neck, and suddenly she couldn’t catch her breath. Not even as a teenager, when she’d experimented with psychedelics, had she ever seen or felt things like this.
When the elevator stopped and opened into the massive apartment, Catra stumbled straight to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of cold water. Adora followed close behind, clearly unsure what to do or say.
“You brought me here today for our one-month anniversary.”
It wasn’t a question, but Adora nodded anyway.
“Yes. I wanted to show you something too.”
Catra lifted her eyes from the glass and looked at her.
Actually, Adora looked bad too. Pale. Eyes wide with fear.
She looked pale, her eyes wide with fear. For the first time since they had met, Adora looked genuinely terrified.
“You look like you’re about to faint.”
Adora didn’t tease her back, and that alone was alarming. Then she glanced to the side, and Catra followed her gaze.
There was an enormous bouquet of red roses on the table, beside a carefully set dinner table lit with candles. Catra hadn’t even noticed it there, too absorbed in the hallucination she thought she’d had.
“Catra.”
Adora walked slowly toward her and stopped in front of her. Not too close, but close enough for Catra to see how anxious she was.
“What did you see in the elevator reflection?”
There shouldn’t have been an answer to that, so Catra said nothing.
Adora took another step and stopped directly in front of her, looking down at her, breathing heavily.
“My dear, I’ve always been honest with you, haven’t I?” she said with a smile that never reached her eyes, which were still glassy with fear. “Please, do the same for me. What did you see in the elevator reflection?”
This time Catra didn’t want to hide it. She told the truth.
“I saw you with black wings and horns.”
She hated how fragile and shaky her own voice sounded.
It was the wrong answer.
Catra knew it immediately, because Adora closed her eyes and a single tear slipped down her pale cheek.
“I was hoping we’d have more time before my glamour failed completely with you.” She pressed her lips together, and when she opened her eyes again, she looked upward, unable to lower her face. “Damn it. This is so unfair.”
“Adora, what are you saying?” Catra asked softly.
“I never wanted you to see me like this, but it’s part of the damned contract! Fuck, Catra, today was supposed to be our perfect one-month anniversary, and now you’re going to run out of here terrified and never see me again and—”
Adora started pacing back and forth, muttering disconnected nonsense under her breath. It sounded like another language entirely.
Catra grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to stop moving.
“Whoa, calm down, princess.”
On any other day, Adora would have laughed at the nickname. But today she only looked sadder than ever, and that made Catra’s heart drop in her chest.
Right then, in the middle of Adora’s luxurious apartment, Catra decided that whatever happened next could not possibly be worse than the thought of losing the woman standing in front of her.
Whatever came after this would be bearable, so long as they stayed together.
Now Catra grabbed her face and made her look straight into her eyes, gray-blue meeting amber and turquoise.
“I know there’s a reasonable explanation for—”
She didn’t get to finish.
Adora jerked her face out of Catra’s hands so abruptly it startled her. Then she turned toward the dining table and extended one hand toward the candelabras set there.
In an instant, a burst of fire appeared from nowhere and lit every wax tip in one blinding flare. Seconds later, the flames settled into neat little tongues of light.
Stunned, Catra turned back to Adora—and the sight in front of her was something she would never forget.
Flames licked across Adora’s fingers, crawling up her bare arms in controlled ribbons without so much as scorching the hem of her shirt. They moved beneath her skin with eerie grace, smoking and dancing there.
Her blue eyes were gone.
In their place were two black sockets, motionless and depthless, like twin voids.
And on her forehead—
Horns.
Actual horns.
Dark and slightly long, textured like something between polished wood and bone, more like a goat’s than anything else. They rose from the edges of her forehead and curved back slightly. One of them had a chipped tip.
But the thing that caught Catra’s attention most hadn’t even fully arrived yet.
From Adora’s back, shadows stretched outward and took shape as enormous black wings, unfolding hesitantly behind her. Black feathers covered every inch of them, and impossibly, they seemed to radiate heat.
The entire room was warm now, stifling and close, like the inside of an oven.
Catra opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
She thought about moving, but her body was frozen in place. She wasn’t aware of anything anymore—not movement, not breath, not choice.
All she could think was: Fuck, fuck, fuck it was real it was all real i slept with a demon of course i had to fall for a literal demon of course I did! Why me—
“Say something, please,” Adora said. The flames vanished. Her onyx-black eyes remained. They were expressionless on their own, but the rest of her face was twisted with apprehension and pain.
Catra still couldn’t speak.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out—only broken, strangled sounds.
The apartment, which had seemed enormous before, felt smaller now, compressed by the imposing presence in front of her. The heat of Adora’s spread wings, the flickering glow of the freshly lit candles, the black eyes fixed on her as though waiting for a verdict.
Anything Catra said in that moment would change everything.
So, true to herself, she chose the worst possible option.
“Your horn is broken.”
Adora blinked. “What?”
“The left one. Right there.” Catra pointed with a trembling finger. “The tip’s chipped.”
For one horrible second, nothing happened.
Then Adora lifted a hand and touched it, her face full of confusion.
“Y-you…” Adora somehow looked worse than Catra did, and that was obvious now. “A-are you serious? That’s the first thing you say?”
“What?” Catra snapped. “I can’t even be mad because you really have been honest from the start. Damn it, I genuinely thought you were some kind of idiot who played D&D in secret behind your parents’ backs and never grew out of the phase. This is less embarrassing, I think.”
Catra dragged a hand down her face, trying to recover some amount of stability and common sense.
Her legs started working again. She walked to the table and sat down, staring at the ridiculous candelabras.
“I never wanted to hide anything,” Adora said quietly. “But I was afraid you’d get scared if you saw. I use a glamour to disguise myself among people in this plane, and the closer we got…” She trailed off. “The harder it became to hold it.”
She stopped in front of Catra. Adora still had the wings, still wore that cautious expression.
“I’m not scared of you,” Catra shot back.
Adora tipped her head back in disbelief.
“Are your eyes going to stay like that now?”
“I need to calm down a little for everything to fade.”
She shrugged, and Catra looked at her.
As absurd as the whole scene was, it was still just Adora standing there, awkward as ever. Horns or no horns, she was the same person Catra had been seeing for the last month.
“Then calm down,” Catra said. “I want to look at them first.”
“Before wha—” Then Adora stopped herself. “Oh. Right. I understand.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
When she opened them again, they were the same familiar blue as always. The wings dissolved back into shadow, but the horns remained.
“You get migraines from hiding them?”
Adora only nodded.
“Does anyone else know?”
“Adam.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “He found out when I was seventeen and in our bathroom trying to saw my horns off in a stupid attempt to break free from all this. Obviously it didn’t work.” She let out a dry laugh, then glanced away, embarrassed.
“Well. Him… and my ex.”
Catra stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.
After a minute, Adora started again.
“We dated for a while, and I never told her anything. But she started seeing things in reflections and mirrors and…” She swallowed. “She thought she was going crazy. Or that I was possessed. Something like that. When I finally told her, she nearly had a heart attack. Literally.”
Adora touched the small scar on her forehead and gave Catra a sad smile.
“She pretended she was fine. Like it was just another detail.” Her voice turned quieter. “Then behind my back, she went to church and tried to kill me with a crucifix.”
Catra stared.
“I held her back. I explained it was my job, that I couldn’t escape it. I swear I tried. But she wouldn’t listen. She was terrified.”
“Where is she now?”
“The last time I saw her,” Adora said dryly, “she’d become a nun.”
Then Catra burst out laughing.
She couldn’t stop herself—laughed full-throated and breathless, incredulous and disbelieving.
This was real.
Catra had almost dated a demon.
And worse, she didn’t care.
Eventually, she pulled herself together from the hysterical laughter, stood, and walked toward Adora, who had gone pale again and was backing toward the wall.
Afraid of Catra, apparently.
“What are you doing?”
The question came out in a whisper.
Catra kept invading her space until her chest was pressed firmly against Adora’s. Now she was sure she had that psychotic look in her eyes, because Adora turned her face away, seized by dread and discomfort.
Without hesitation, in one smooth motion, Catra lifted her hand and touched the chipped horn.
It wasn’t what she’d expected. It was warm and textured. Actually, Adora’s whole body radiated an unnatural, feverish heat now. The horn was solid, tangible, real—and when Catra tried to examine it, Adora’s face moved with it, because it was all one piece. As strange as the whole scene was, this was still Adora. Adora still had her face turned aside, but her eyes flicked up toward Catra, cautious.
“I have to admit,” Catra said softly, “I think this is sexy as hell.”
Adora’s eyes widened.
She turned back toward Catra with a movement so fast it was almost impossible to track. The two of them stood there in silence, staring at each other. Adora, stunned. Catra looking like she was about to devour something and enjoy it immensely. Maybe she was.
“Say that again.” Adora’s voice was low, nearly a whisper, rough with something darkly sensual.
“You.” Catra slid her finger from the horn to her chin. “Are.” Down across her clavicle. “A very.” Over the curve of her chest. “Evil.” Lower, across her toned stomach. “Demon.”
Then her hand dropped all at once, and Adora gasped, eyes rolling back.
Catra attacked her then, starving. She jumped into Adora’s arms and captured her lips greedily. Adora let out a small, delighted cry and never let her go. She held Catra tightly against her and kissed her back, carrying them toward the bedroom, forgetting dinner, flowers, and every problem waiting for them in the future.
If Adora was a demon, Catra couldn’t care less. She was her Adora. And if Catra had anything to say about it, she always would be. Horns or not, Adora was the best person Catra had ever known, and Catra wouldn’t give that up for anything. Not even with Hell in the way. Not even the Devil himself would have the power to separate them. That much Catra had already decided.