When the Demon Calls Her Name

Evie spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the mess Lucian had caused, muttering under her breath about demons with no respect for personal space.

She tried to ignore him as he sprawled on her couch, flipping through her books with an infuriating mix of curiosity and disdain.

“Why do humans write so much?” Lucian asked, holding up a well-worn paperback as though it were something beneath him.

“Because we like stories,” Evie replied, crouched on the floor scrubbing the wine stain he’d left behind.

“Fictional tales,” he mused, flipping through the pages. “A poor substitute for experience.”

“Not everyone has the luxury of ruling Hell,” she shot back. “Some of us need a little escape.”

Lucian chuckled, setting the book down with a small thud. “Perhaps you crave escape because your life is... uninspired.”

Evie froze mid-scrub, her temper flaring. “Excuse me?”

“Look around.” He gestured toward her cluttered apartment, his tone almost bored. “Your existence is small. Routine. Books, work, and the occasional bottle of cheap wine. No wonder you called me. You needed something... more.”

Her cheeks burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I didn’t call you,” she snapped, tossing the rag into the sink. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Lucian repeated, his voice thick with mockery. “And yet, here I am. A demon doesn’t just appear because someone stumbles over a few words. There’s a spark of intent, whether you admit it or not.”

Evie stood up, hands on her hips, trying to steady her breath. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?” He rose from the couch with a feline grace, his tall form looming over her. “Your vulnerability is practically etched into your soul. You long for something you’ve never dared to name.”

Evie crossed her arms, heart hammering. “Stop pretending you’re some kind of mind reader.”

Lucian’s smirk widened, the heat of it making her skin prickle. “I don’t need to read your mind to see the truth, little one. It’s written all over you.”

She glared at him, but before she could retort, there was a knock at the door.

Her stomach flipped.

Claire.

“Oh no,” she whispered, eyes darting to Lucian in panic. “You need to hide.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Hide? I am not some stray animal to be shoved under a bed.”

“She’ll freak out if she sees you!” Evie hissed, gesturing frantically toward her bedroom.

Lucian folded his arms, clearly enjoying her stress. “And why would her reaction concern me?”

“Because it concerns me!” Evie snapped. “Please, just go to the bedroom. Or turn invisible. Or something!”

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Very well. But you owe me for this.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, but she couldn’t hide the relief in her voice as he sauntered toward the bedroom.

Just before disappearing behind the door, he paused and threw her a smug glance.

“Be careful what you wish for, little one,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Evie groaned as she rushed to the door, yanking it open just as Claire raised her hand to knock again.