I had faced monsters made of shadow, scarecrows that bled grain, and an ancient evil who thought my existence was an acceptable excuse to summon a demon in the office copy room.

  None of it compared to Lily in a red dress.

  The dress wasn’t just red. It was the kind of red that shouldn’t exist in nature — the pulse of a neon sign reflected in a rain puddle; the kind of color that whispered about sins you’d never committed but wanted to. The neckline didn’t plunge, but it didn’t have to. The fabric clung like it had opinions. Every line of her body was a declaration of intent, and that intent was to ruin me.

  The Thai place buzzed with laughter and clattering dishes. The air was thick with chili oil, garlic, and the faint tang of lime and lemongrass. A ceiling fan clicked above us like it was counting down the seconds until I said something stupid. I watched the door open — and then there she was.

  Every conversation in the room hiccupped. The waiters slowed. The guy behind the register openly stared. Even the music felt quieter. The lighting caught her copper-red hair, and the strands glowed like new-forged metal. Her heels clicked once on the tile floor and that was enough to send a shockwave of attention across the room.

  And she was walking toward me.

  God help me, she was smiling.

  She slid into the booth across from me like she owned it, legs crossed, posture perfect. “You picked a curry place?” Her tone was velvet lined with barbs. “Bold. The stains are unforgiving.”

  Her lips twitched as she said “stains.” I forgot how to breathe.

  “It’s comfort food,” I managed, fiddling with my water glass. “Safe. Reliable. Sweet over heat.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “It’s heavy,” she said, flipping the menu open for show. “You’re already sweating.”

  “It’s warm in here.”

  “It’s eighty-two outside. Air conditioning’s running inside, a cool seventy-four.” She didn’t even look up as she said it, lips curving.

  I swallowed. “Maybe I’m allergic to judgment.”

  “Doubtful,” she murmured, hiding a smile.

  The waitress, an above-average-looking, young, Asian woman, came to take our order. She tried—she really tried—to focus on me, but her eyes kept sliding back to Lily.

  Even with the pheromones dialed down, she could make even straight women look twice, and I could practically hear the jealousy radiating from the two middle-aged women in the corner booth. Their husbands weren’t being subtle about sneaking glances, either.

  “Massaman curry,” I said quickly, passing her the menu before I could make things worse. “Extra jasmine rice. Spring rolls. Dr. Pepper.”

  “And for you, miss?” She stammered.

  Lily looked up with that radiant, slow-burn smile that could derail traffic. “Same, but sweet tea. Extra sugar.”

  The waitress nodded too fast, mumbled something, and retreated at speed, only bumping into one table on her route to the kitchen. I stared after her, mortified.

  Lily smirked. “You break people wherever you go, don’t you?”

  “I think that’s all on you.”

  “Flattery,” she said lightly, “will not save you.”

  She propped her chin in her palms and studied me. The way she looked at people was… unsettling. Not predatory, exactly — but knowing. Like she’d already peeled you apart and found the soft spots worth pressing.

  Her eyes softened for a flicker, then sharpened again. “So, you’re either going to propose, making an honest woman out of me, or you’re going to tell me everything now.” She made a point of looking for a ring box.

  I faked confusion badly. “Tell you what?”

  Her foot nudged my leg under the table, sharp enough to make me jolt. “Don’t insult me, Danny. I can smell it on you. Secrets. The other two. Plots whispered in corners. Do you think I’m blind?”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I swallowed hard. “Elly and Eury—”

  “—are part of it,” she cut in. “I know. The only question is how much. You come back smelling like burned ozone and fae dust. You carry yourself like you’re already halfway dead. And when you lie to me, it doesn’t come across as a lie—it comes across as a void. A hole in the air.”

  “That’s… my null powers,” I tried weakly.

  “That’s crap,” she snapped, low and controlled but sharp enough to pierce. “You’re cutting me out. After I—” She stopped, jaw tight. “After everything.”

  I flinched. Images of her nearly broken, of the Eidolich tearing at her life while I scrambled in panic, flooded me again. That night had been ugly. Necessary. A miracle wrapped in awkward sweat and fear.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Wrong answer.” Her foot brushed my ankle. “You’ve been avoiding me. Again.”

  I cleared my throat. “Work’s been—”

  “Don’t insult me, Danny.” Her voice lowered, silk over steel. “You forget what I am?”

  “A pain in my—”

  Her heel pressed into my shin under the table. “Try again.”

  “Succubus,” I said quickly.

  “Good boy.”

  I hated that my pulse reacted to the words.

  The appetizers arrived, mercifully, and the scent of fried pastry and peanut sauce gave me something to look at that wasn’t her. I dunked a spring roll, bit down, and scalded my tongue. She watched me suffer with open amusement.

  “Now,” she said, tearing her roll apart with delicate and deadly fingers. “You are going tell me why you’ve been lying to me.”

  I coughed, nearly inhaling peanut sauce. “Define lying.”

  “Define denial?” she shot back. “You come home reeking of ozone and fear. You talk in your sleep. And don’t say it’s allergies again. I checked.”

  I sagged against the booth. “Fine. No allergies.”

  “Then talk.”

  I did. Against every rational instinct, I spilled everything — Jade and her twisted favors, the Threshkin, the Collectors, the ledger tags. Even the sapling that burned, the acid on my hand, and the way Elly had cursed three languages at once when it went wrong.

  When I finished, Lily sat perfectly still, fork poised midair. Her aura pulsed like a heartbeat, warm enough to make the air shimmer.

  “So, Jade, our local and, need I say, nearly immortal dragon, owns you.”

  “Technically five favors—”

  Her eyes flashed a dazzling shade of green, pulsating with the waves of pheromones that came out almost visible as a cloud of emotion. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “I was trying to protect you.”

  That earned me a laugh that could have cracked glass. “Protect me? I eat people’s worst impulses for breakfast. What do you think I need protection from? You?”

  “It’s not about power.” I stirred my curry, avoiding her gaze. “It’s about me. I break things. I drag people into my mess. That’s what I do.”

  Something softened around her eyes, fleeting and fragile. “You really believe that don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly.

  She sighed, leaning back. “You’re exhausting.”

  “Not the first time I’ve heard that…”

  “Probably won’t be the last.” She agreed.

  The curry arrived — steaming, rich, fragrant with cinnamon and coconut. I tried to eat, but my appetite was gone. Lily, on the other hand, ate with measured calm, each bite precise. Even that looked seductive. I watched her lift a spoon to her lips and immediately hated myself for existing.

  Halfway through, she spoke without looking up. “You’re not getting rid of me.”

  “You should go. You should run the other way without looking back twice.”

  “I’m very bad at doing what I should.”

  My laugh came out half strangled.

  She smiled faintly. “There he is. The man who stumbles through apocalypses with a martyr complex.”

  “I don’t have a martyr complex.”

  “Sure,” she said, wiping her lip with the napkin. “You just keep almost dying for people who never asked you to.”

  I opened my mouth to argue and then didn’t.

  She cocked her head, reading me too easily. “You hate that I’m right.”

  “Not always…”

  “But frequently.”

  I grumbled.

  Her grin sharpened. “Good. Keeps you honest.”

  We ate in silence for a while. I focused on the curry’s sweetness, the hint of cardamom under the heat. It should’ve been comforting. Instead, it just reminded me that the woman across from me could probably kill me with a wink if she wanted to.

  By the time the check arrived, my nerves were shot, as if I could anticipate an ultimatum, one that never came. I reached for the check automatically. She stopped my hand, fingers brushing mine — cool, smooth, deliberate.

  “I’ve got it,” she said.

  “I invited you.”

  “And I accepted, because I knew I could make you tell me what was going on. I chalk that up as my victory, so I pay.”

  I hesitated. “You’re impossible.”

  “Thank you.”

  Outside, the night air hit like mercy. The restaurant’s neon glow painted everything pink and gold. Traffic hummed by. Lily’s arm looped through mine, and before I could protest, she raised her voice just enough to carry.

  “He saved my life, you know,” she said loudly to a passing group of college guys. “He’s brave. Hopelessly stupid, but brave. He makes me bagel bites after midnight. He’s not even great in bed, but…” Her eyes glittered like fire. “He’s special.”

  They laughed. One of them cheered for the bagel bites. I wanted to evaporate.

  Then, quieter, she added, “He makes me laugh. That’s worth something.”

  She leaned close, lips brushing my ear. “Now everyone knows why I’m still here. Even if you keep trying to shove me out. I’m still here.”

  And then she walked ahead of me, hips swaying, the night practically bending around her.

  I staggered after, heat flooding my ears, shame and something darker curling in my chest.

  She wasn’t wrong. And that scared me more than any monster ever could. I stopped walking. The noise of the street filled the silence between us. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Lily. You could walk away.”

  She turned, eyes glowing faintly in the city light. “And let you face this alone?” She stepped closer, voice low. “Not my style.”

  “I can’t promise you it ends well.”

  “Life never does.” She smiled sadly. “We’re all tragic creatures.”

  We walked in silence after that. The city lights caught in puddles, smearing reflections of red and gold. The smell of frying food and exhaust hung heavy. I couldn’t tell if the warmth in my chest was fear or something worse.