Good vs. Evil. An age old concept....a very simple concept. Kill the Charmed Ones. Even simpler. It was what he had signed on to do.
So, if it was all so simple...what was wrong with him?
Had wearing human skin all ready begun to warp him...make him weak and willing and vulnerable to...to...her face. Oh, sweet Lucifer...her face. And the way she had whispered "Cole" as she'd stared down at the curled apple peel in that barrel. She'd seen the first initial of her true love. And she'd thought of him. It had stunned him. It had numbed him. He had been rooted to spot, unable to move, unable to breathe.
And now...now, he had kissed her. He'd tugged her to him and tasted forbidden fruit. Succulent bites of her sweetness. Something that was supposed to tempt her...not him. Never him.
He was slowly being undone by Phoebe Halliwell and her damning smile...her laugh...the way she was a child and a woman all mixed into one. A child and a woman and a good witch. A powerful good witch.
He was going to kill her.
He had to.
Her and Piper and Prue and their damn whitelighter.
They all had to die.
But she'd seen the first initial of her true love. And she'd thought of him. It was small comfort that his first initial wasn't really "C".
And she tasted so fresh and so ripe.
She loved who she thought he was. That much he knew. The face. The voice. The pretense of flirtation. Pretense. Was it pretense? Really? Didn't he like seeing her? Trading quips with her? Had he started to go soft? Had he truly become Cole Turner and forgotten Balthazar? Forgotten what he was contracted to do?
He couldn't. He wouldn't.
He WAS going to kill her.
This couldn't be happening. He couldn't clench every time she looked at him. He couldn't lose the ability to speak. He couldn't let his knees weaken. He couldn't laugh at her dumb jokes. He couldn't stammer with her over the phone.
He couldn't return her love.
Love was the antithesis of what ran in his veins...of what powered him. It was the ultimate antidote for evil. Just repeating the word to himself made him dizzy. Kissing her had been the first step towards possessing her. But it seemed it was she who was possessing him.
It had to stop.
He stalked around the A.D.A's office, unable to keep from growling. "You don't love her, Balthazar. You lust for her."
Yes...lust. Primal, dark, lust. He wanted to corrupt her. He wanted to swallow up her innocence whole, bite down below the skin. He wanted to taint her flesh with the mark of the beast. He wanted to push her legs apart till they broke and bathe in her blood. And then he would put her back together. He would turn her away from her sisters...and the Charmed Ones would finally be vanquished. Their precious Power of Three disintegrated.
Because Phoebe's soul would belong to him.
Her body and her soul.
He all ready had her heart.
"Fuck!" He swept an arm through the air. Books and files went flying.
Lust. Not love. Not love. Lust. Lust. Lust.
Lust that made him quiver...that made him resonate with desire so deep he had almost taken her right there at the club. But he had to wait. The time would come...the time would come when Phoebe would beg to be taken...would beg to be his. And that would make the victory even headier. The slaughter even redder.
Good vs. Evil. An age old concept. And, this time, Evil would win.
Or so he told himself.
And then the phone rang.
"H-hi, Cole? Wanna go out tonight?"
"Er...um...h-hi, Ph-phoebe. Sure! Yeah! Sounds great!"
"Meet'cha at P3 at 10?"
"Okay...yeah...I-I can d-do that."
"Cool! Bye! Love ya!"
"Uh, you, too!"
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