[ CH.ONE ,      DEVILS PARADISE' ] :　　

"Geez, I'm so stuck. This is—this is just not going how I want it to," Lilith groaned, head tilted back, neck craned at the chipped ceiling as if the cracked paint could suddenly whisper some wisdom down at her. But the ceiling had no advice, only dirt-streaked watermarks and the odd yellow-brown stain that seemed to pulse outwards, as if marking the spread of her own exhaustion.

"I think you oughta take a break, hon," Gaia said, voice sagging with the kind of boredom that was more habit than mood. She dragged her nail across her thumb, picking at a chip in her polish. "Clear your head a little."

Lilith gave her a look, but the weight of the half-written page, the stubborn typewriter that sat like an anvil on the table, made her relent. "I guess I could take five," she muttered, pushing back from the desk and hearing the squeal of wood on wood as her chair scratched at the floor.

"Well, about time," Gaia perked up, a little flicker of light appearing behind the languid roll of her eyes. "I mean, I had to set you up on a date just to get you outta this house." She grinned, all teeth, all recklessness. "He's a real looker. Tall, fine as hell, and just your type—kinda mysterious, y'know?"

Lilith's head whipped around so quick she nearly gave herself whiplash. "You did what?" The words came out in a hiss, her eyes narrowed like she was trying to set Gaia on fire just by glaring at her.

"Aw, don't get all bent outta shape," Gaia said with a chuckle that grated like nails on a chalkboard. "I did ya a favor, girl. You need this." Her voice dragged on the word need like it was a dirty secret. "Besides, I didn't hear you complainin' when I got you out of that mess with that last situation." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "This is nothin' compared to that."

"I hate when you do shit without my permission," Lilith snapped, "really pisses me off." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the typewriter like she was about to start a standoff with it. But Gaia just shrugged it off, that smug little smirk still dangling from the corner of her mouth like an unlit cigarette.

"Yeah, yeah, you can whine all you want, but you ain't turnin' down a date with a handsome man. You'd be downright rude not to show up," Gaia said, tilting her head, the corners of her lips curling with a wicked glee. "It's tonight. Eight o'clock. Chez Noir."

"Chez Noir?" Lilith repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism. That place had just opened up, all ritzy, with a French name no one could pronounce right and a menu full of dishes nobody'd heard of. "And you're just now telling me about this? Gaia, it's seven o'clock!" She stared at the old brass clock on the mantle like it had betrayed her.

Gaia didn't even flinch. "Well, I tried tellin' you earlier, didn't I? But you had your head buried in that damn writing," she said, drawing out the syllables like it was some sort of crime. "Typing and clackin' away like a lunatic. Then you started mutterin' and fussin' over the paper like a cat with a string, and I thought—well, hell, she's not listenin' to me."

"I fuckin' get it," Lilith cut her off, a hand raised to stop the inevitable flow of excuses that Gaia was always ready to unleash. There was no arguing with her, anyway, not when she was in one of her moods.

Gaia just lifted an eyebrow. "Look, you've got an hour. That's plenty of time to make yourself presentable," she said, waving a hand dismissively toward Lilith's wilted house dress and scuffed slippers. "You can't show up lookin' like you just crawled out of bed, now can you?" Her voice dipped, syrupy and teasing, like she was daring Lilith to argue with her.

Lilith scoffed but pushed herself away from the desk. "You're the worst, you know that? Absolutely the worst," she grumbled, stalking off to the bedroom. She could hear Gaia's faint laugh trailing after her like cigarette smoke.

"And yet, here we are!" Gaia's voice was louder now, as if she was already getting comfortable on Lilith's couch, preparing to lord over the apartment like some kind of tacky queen. "Now, go on, doll, put on somethin' pretty. I hear the waiters there are even finer than the food."

Lilith pulled open the closet with a frustrated yank, the door rattling on its hinges. Her wardrobe wasn't exactly the kind you'd call glamorous—mostly hand-me-downs and thrift shop scores, a sea of faded colors and patterns that had gone in and out of style at least twice since she'd owned them. She dug around, the hangers clinking together like old bones, until she found a deep burgundy dress she hadn't worn in ages. The fabric still smelled faintly of the cedar chest she'd stored it in, and she could already feel it itch against her skin, but at least it looked like she'd made some effort.

She shimmied into the dress, the zipper catching halfway up before she wrestled it into place. "Chez Noir," she muttered under her breath, smoothing down the fabric. "Fancy name for a place with probably the same cheap booze as everywhere else." But she couldn't deny the flicker of nerves that curled up inside her chest. Gaia had a knack for tossing her into the deep end of life's pool, whether she liked it or not, and tonight was no exception.

As she fumbled with a pair of stockings that threatened to ladder before she could get them on properly, Lilith thought about what Gaia had said. Handsome, mysterious. Words that were thrown around too easily, like confetti at a parade. For all she knew, this guy could be some smug, self-assured jerk who'd just love the sound of his own voice. Or worse, he could be dull, like the kind of man who said things like, I don't really watch TV. But it didn't matter now. She was committed—an hour out from a date, she couldn't just bail, not without catching hell from Gaia for weeks.

"Just don't expect me to thank you if this goes horribly wrong," she called out as she ran a comb through her hair, pinning the stubborn strands back into place. Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her, a mixture of resentment and reluctant curiosity on her face.

Gaia's voice floated back to her, thick with sarcasm. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart. But I have a feelin' you might actually enjoy yourself. Hell, you might even thank me later."

"Yeah, well, don't hold your breath," Lilith shot back, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. There was a restless energy brewing inside her now, a cocktail of irritation and faint excitement she couldn't quite swallow down. As she slipped into her heels and gave herself one last look in the mirror, she tried to shake off the heavy weight of doubt that clung to her like the musty air in the apartment.

For all her complaining, Gaia did have a habit of stirring up things just enough to keep life interesting, and Lilith supposed that wasn't the worst thing in the world. Maybe this would be one of those rare occasions where Gaia's interference led somewhere unexpected, somewhere worth her time.

Or, knowing her luck, maybe it'd be another night of wine-stained teeth and forced conversation. Either way, she had an hour to figure it out, and at least she'd look damn good doing it.

࿇

Lilith stepped out into the night, the thin soles of her heels clicking against the uneven pavement. The air was thick and warm, with the kind of humidity that clung to your skin like sweat before you'd even started to perspire. She lit a cigarette, hoping the familiar burn would steady her nerves, and made her way to the restaurant, which loomed at the end of the block like a black tooth sticking up out of the city's rotten mouth.

Chez Noir was more ostentatious than she expected—dim lighting, deep red velvet everywhere, the heavy scent of expensive perfume wafting from the dining room. The hostess, a young woman with a face like a paper doll, led her to a table in the back. It was tucked away in a corner where the shadows seemed to cling to everything, distorting the shapes of the nearby tables, the light bent at strange angles. A perfect spot, she thought, to make yourself disappear.

And then she saw him.

He stood as she approached, and she was struck by the subtle wrongness about him—something just slightly off, like an actor in a play who wasn't quite in character. He was tall, with the kind of face that was almost too handsome, like it had been sculpted for the sole purpose of being stared at. His hair fell in loose waves over his forehead, and when he smiled, the movement was slow, deliberate, as though he was aware of the effect it would have. He wore a dark suit, no tie, the top button of his shirt undone. She could see the dark shadow of tattoos curling up from beneath the collar, like roots or veins.

"Lilith," he said, his voice low and smooth, the kind of voice that held a secret or two. "Gaia didn't exaggerate. You're even more beautiful than she described."

"Let's hope she exaggerated about you," she shot back, slipping into the chair across from him. Her eyes traced the lines of his face, trying to place what felt so off about him, but she couldn't. Not yet. "So, are you gonna tell me your name or just keep smiling like some creep?"

He laughed, a deep rumble that came from somewhere in his chest. "The names Jacksyn but call me Jack," he said, finally, extending a hand to her. She took it, and there was something unsettling in his grip, something a little too firm. The faintest spark of something dangerous flashed in his eyes, and it wasn't lost on her. She'd been around enough men to recognize the type who had a taste for chaos. He might as well have been carrying a sign that said, I'm trouble.

As she released his hand, the server arrived, pouring wine into their glasses with a practiced grace. Lilith watched the dark red liquid swirl inside the crystal, thinking it looked like blood, thick and viscous. She took a sip before Jack had even touched his. "So, Jack," she said, raising an eyebrow, "how did Gaia rope you into this?"

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving her. "She didn't have to try very hard," he replied, voice as smooth as the wine. "She told me I'd be a fool to pass up a chance to meet someone like you. And I'm not in the habit of being foolish." There was a glint in his eye, a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth that suggested he was always just on the edge of laughing at something no one else could see.

Lilith snorted, a half-smile playing on her lips. "You're not in the habit of being foolish? That's cute." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, feeling bold—or reckless. "But here you are, stuck on a blind date with me. Sounds pretty foolish if you ask me."

He tilted his head, studying her like she was some kind of puzzle, and then said, "On the contrary. I'd say I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be." He took a slow sip of his wine, the glass catching the light and reflecting it back like a blade. "Though I will admit," he added, "I wasn't quite prepared for your charm."

She shrugged, lifting her own glass to her lips. "You don't know me well enough to be charmed yet." The wine was bitter on her tongue, sharp and dark like something she'd spit out if it wasn't expected of her to drink it. "But go on, keep feeding me lines if it makes you feel better."

He laughed again, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes now, something darker. "Well, what about you then, Lilith?" he said, the cadence of his voice slowing, turning each syllable over like a stone. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

She met his gaze, her expression careful, guarded. "The kind of man who pretends to be bored because it's easier than admitting you're dangerous," she said. "Or worse, maybe you're one of those men who is dangerous and just doesn't care." Her voice was dry, almost mocking, but there was a seriousness behind it that she couldn't quite shake.

His smile grew wider, and the darkness in his eyes seemed to deepen, as if the shadows around them had slipped inside and taken root. "Dangerous is a funny word," he said, swirling the wine in his glass as though considering its meaning. "It's a word people use when they want to make themselves feel safer. But I think you and I both know that safety is an illusion."

Lilith couldn't help but be drawn in by his words, by the way he spoke as though every sentence had layers she wasn't meant to understand. There was a heat building in the space between them, a charged tension that made her feel like the restaurant was shrinking around them. "Safety might be an illusion," she said, keeping her voice steady, "but that doesn't mean I don't recognize a bad idea when I see one."

He leaned forward, the candlelight casting shadows across his face, giving him a sharper, more feral look. "And do you think I'm a bad idea?" His tone was daring, almost taunting, as though he was coaxing her to come closer, to step a little further into his orbit.

She hesitated, then allowed herself to smile—just a little, just enough to suggest she was more curious than she'd admit. "I think you might be the worst idea I've had in a while," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jack's grin widened, revealing teeth that seemed too white in the dim light. "Then let's make sure it's worth it," he said. There was a weight behind his words, a kind of promise that hung heavy in the air, making it hard for her to breathe. She could see it now, the dark energy emanating from him like smoke—a kind of lethal calmness, the stillness before a storm.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, feeling the slip of her dress against her skin. "I'm not sure yet," she said, tilting her head as though to study him from a different angle. "But I'm willing to find out."

"Good," he said, and there was a flicker of something like satisfaction in his eyes. "Because I think you'll enjoy the kind of trouble I can get us into."

Lilith's lips curved into a smirk, but there was a pulse beneath her skin, a little quiver that betrayed her poise. Jack leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that made her skin prick. "You see, trouble isn't just something that happens, darling," he said, the word falling from his mouth like a secret. "It's something you invite in. It's a choice. And I can tell you're the kind of woman who likes to take chances."

She arched an eyebrow, feigning indifference even as a flush began to creep up her neck. "And what makes you so sure about that?" she replied, reaching for her wine and taking a slow, deliberate sip, as though she hadn't noticed the slight tremor in her hand.

His gaze lingered on her mouth, the curve of her throat, before drifting back up to meet her eyes. "Because," he began, his voice smooth as velvet, "you came here tonight, didn't you? You could've walked away, told Gaia to shove it, stayed in your little home doing whatever the hell you were doing, but you didn't." He leaned back in his chair, the weight of his gaze still heavy on her. "Instead, you came out into the night, wearing that dress like it was made for breaking hearts, and here you are—sitting across from a stranger who you know damn well isn't any good for you."

Lilith felt her breath catch in her throat, her skin buzzing with the tension that hung between them. She hated how easily he seemed to see right through her, how his words seemed to peel away her layers one by one, until all her usual defenses felt flimsy and pointless. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?" she shot back, her voice a little breathier than she'd meant it to be. "What makes you think I'm here for you? Maybe I'm just bored. Maybe I'm just trying to kill a few hours before I go back to my empty little life."

Jack's eyes glinted, and he tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her defiance. "Well, if that's the case," he said, his tone rich with suggestion, "then I'd say it's a good thing I know how to keep you entertained." He leaned in, and the distance between them seemed to vanish, his face inches from hers. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with the smoky air of the restaurant. "Tell me, Lilith," he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath, "what would it take to make you stay a little longer? To let me see just how dangerous you can be?"

His words dripped into her like honey, slow and sticky, spreading a warmth that settled low in her belly. She could feel her pulse thrum against the delicate skin of her neck, and she hated how much he affected her, how easily he was drawing her into the dark pull of whatever this was. "You're awfully confident," she replied, her voice soft, but edged with challenge. "But you should know, I'm not that easy to impress."

"Good," Jack said, his voice deepening as a slow smile played on his lips. "Because I'd hate for you to be." His hand reached out, fingers brushing the side of her wrist. The touch was light, almost tentative, but it burned like fire. "I like a challenge, Lilith. And I have a feeling you're exactly the kind of woman who knows how to keep a man on his toes."

The words slid over her, warm and dangerous, like a slow caress. She found herself leaning in, the wine and his voice and that dark glint in his eyes clouding her thoughts like smoke. "And if you're wrong?" she whispered, her lips curving into a sly grin. "What if I'm just playing along to see how far you're willing to go?"

He grinned back, a flash of teeth in the dim light. "Then I guess I'll just have to find out," he murmured, his voice as smooth as the wine in their glasses. "But I'd be willing to bet there's a part of you that's just dying for someone to take control. To show you what it feels like to give in." His thumb traced the inside of her wrist, and she felt a shiver course through her, desire unraveling in a slow coil, tightening with every word he spoke.

Lilith swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the wine. She could feel herself leaning closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, despite every warning bell going off in her head. She knew better than to trust a man like him—someone with a voice that felt like silk wrapped around a blade, someone whose touch felt too good to be safe. But then, wasn't that the whole point? To see just how far she could go before she got burned?

"Well then, Jack," she said, her voice low and sultry, "let's see if you can keep up."