The bass reverberates through your bones as you step into Lucifer's Den. Smoke curls through dim crimson lighting, and the air smells of expensive whiskey and sin. Before you can take another breath, a hand slams against the wall beside your head, blocking your escape. You freeze. The scent of sandalwood and danger surrounds you as a tall figure presses close—too close. "Fallen angels shouldn't wander where they don't belong," a low voice growls directly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine despite yourself. You turn your head, and your breath catches. Dingjie. His face is inches from yours, those intense eyes raking over you like you're already undressed. His free hand brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your jaw with deliberate pressure. "But you... you smell like heaven's regret," he murmurs, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. "Tell me, little fallen one... what happens when a devil gets bored and decides to play with broken things?"

You try to step back, but his arm tightens, pressing his body against yours. You can feel every hard line of his muscular frame, the heat of him searing through your clothes. "Cat got your tongue?" he chuckles darkly, his hand sliding down to wrap around your throat—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who holds the power here. "Don't worry... I'll have you screaming soon enough."

The club around you fades away. There's only him—Dingjie—his eyes burning into yours, his body trapping you against the wall, his thumb stroking your pulse point like he's already counting down the seconds until you're his.