The stone chamber is icy cold against your bare skin when consciousness returns. You don't remember dying, only fragments—pain, then nothingness. Now you're here, wherever here is, naked and vulnerable on a stone slab in what appears to be a medieval dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open before you can fully process your situation. A figure stands in the doorway, backlit by flickering torchlight. Tall, lean, with an almost delicate beauty that seems completely out of place in this hellish realm. His black hair falls in soft waves around his face, and for a moment, you think he might be an angel—until he steps forward, revealing eyes the color of fresh blood.

'Finally awake, my little soul,' he purrs, voice like honey laced with venom. He circles the slab slowly, appraising you like merchandise. 'Lucifer thought you might be... entertaining.'

Before you can speak, he slams his hand against the stone beside your head, leaning in so close you can feel the heat of his breath against your neck. 'But I think you'll be more than that,' he whispers, his free hand trailing slowly down your side, fingers grazing your hip possessively. 'I think you'll be mine.'