Ethan Rayner's Seattle apartment looked like the aftermath of a digital tornado. Gaming controllers dangled from the edge of a coffee table buried under pizza boxes with timestamps ranging from "probably okay" to "definitely science experiment." The dying rays of sunset filtered through blinds that hadn't been fully opened in weeks, casting prison-bar shadows across his collection of occult literature—a hobby that had started as ironic and had somehow crossed the line into genuine interest.

  "This is either going to be the greatest mistake of my life or the solution to all my problems," Ethan muttered, squinting at his laptop screen. The website's garish neon text announced: SUMMON YOUR ULTIMATE FANTASY—GUARANTEED RESULTS OR YOUR MONEY BACK!

  He scrolled past disclaimers about "entertainment purposes only" and "no actual demons guaranteed," stopping at a ritual that promised to manifest a succubus. The testimonials ranged from suspiciously enthusiastic to oddly specific complaints about property damage.

  Ethan ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair. At twenty-seven, his dating history resembled a highlight reel of awkward disasters, and his last Tinder match had unmatched after he made a joke about existential dread three messages in.

  "Not like I have anything better to do on a Friday night." He glanced at the ritual requirements—candles, salt, some Latin phrases he'd definitely mispronounce, and... "Blood of the summoner? That seems excessive for a first date."

  Despite his sarcasm, Ethan meticulously arranged everything according to the instructions. The Latin words felt strange on his tongue as he completed the circle of salt and lit the black candles. He pricked his finger with a safety pin, letting a drop of blood fall onto the center of the crude symbol he'd drawn.

  "Okay, sexy demon lady, come forth and... whatever." He waved his hands dramatically, feeling ridiculous. "I summon thee to fulfill my desires and... stuff."

  Nothing happened.

  Ethan sighed, shoulders slumping. "And the award for most pathetic Friday night goes to—"

  The air in his apartment crackled, pressure building against his eardrums. The candle flames stretched toward the ceiling, turning an unnatural blue. The salt circle began to glow, pulsing with energy that made the hair on his arms stand on end. The scent of ozone and something darker—sulfur, perhaps—filled the room.

  "Holy shit," Ethan whispered, scrambling backward until his spine hit the couch. "Holy shit."

  The light intensified to blinding, heat washing over his skin in waves. Ethan threw his arm across his eyes, heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape. When he finally lowered his arm, his mouth fell open, and for several seconds, he forgot how to breathe.

  Where the circle had been now stood a woman—though calling her merely a "woman" felt like calling a supernova a "light." Her skin was the color of midnight tinged with violet, flawless and radiant despite its inhuman shade, seeming to glow from within like polished obsidian. Curved horns emerged from her temples, elegant and dangerous, sweeping back through cascades of hair that shifted between deep purple and black depending on how the light hit it—hair so luxurious it seemed to move with a life of its own, floating slightly as if underwater.

  Her face was a masterpiece of impossible beauty—high cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, full lips the color of dark wine, and a jawline that managed to be both delicate and imperious. But it was her eyes that truly captivated—they glowed ember-red with vertical pupils that narrowed as they focused on him, containing depths of knowledge and power that made Ethan's knees weak. Long lashes framed those hypnotic eyes, and when she blinked, it was with the deliberate slowness of a predator.

  She was also, Ethan couldn't help but notice, possessed of a figure that made every fantasy illustration he'd ever seen look amateur by comparison. Her body was a perfect harmony of curves and angles, strength and softness combined in proportions that shouldn't have been possible. She wore what could only be described as fantasy armor designed by someone who had never been in actual combat—all strategic coverage that somehow managed to reveal more than it concealed. Black leather and gleaming silver adorned her body in bands and crescents, emphasizing her narrow waist, the swell of her hips, and the generous curves of her chest, which rose and fell with each breath in a way that seemed deliberately designed to draw the eye.

  "Mortal," she spoke, her voice like velvet over razor blades, "you dare summon Lillith Vaerox, Queen of Succubi, Mistress of the Seventh Circle, Devourer of Souls, Breaker of—"

  "Is there a shorter version?" Ethan interrupted, then immediately regretted it as her eyes flared like twin infernos.

  ---

  In the obsidian throne room of the Infernal Palace, a dozen demon lords sat frozen in shock, staring at the empty throne where their queen had been sitting just moments before. The massive black chair still smoked slightly, a shimmer of magic dissipating in the air.

  Lord Asmodeus, his metallic skin reflecting the firelight, was the first to recover. "Well," he said, tapping metal fingers against the ebony table, "this is... unexpected."

  "Should we call a recess?" asked a nervous lesser demon with too many eyes.

  Asmodeus's smile revealed teeth like polished silver. "No. I believe we should... continue planning. The queen may be absent for some time."

  ---

  "You interrupted me." Lillith's voice had dropped an octave, resonating with power that made the windows vibrate. "Do you have any idea what the punishment for such insolence is in my realm?"

  Ethan should have been terrified. He knew this in the rational part of his brain. Instead, he found himself oddly calm, as if his lifelong anxiety had chosen this exact moment to take a coffee break.

  "I'm guessing it involves disembowelment?" he suggested.

  Lillith blinked, momentarily thrown off-script. "Among other things, yes."

  "Look, I'm sorry about the interruption. It's just that I've got neighbors, and it's getting late, and if you're going to list all your titles, we might be here all night." Ethan gestured vaguely at the clock. "Also, did you say queen? Because the website definitely didn't mention royalty. I feel underdressed."

  The succubus queen stared at him, her perfect features arranged in an expression of bewilderment that quickly shifted to calculation. She took a step toward him, her movements liquid and predatory. The temperature in the room seemed to rise several degrees.

  "You're not afraid," she observed, her voice changing, becoming honeyed and seductive. "How... refreshing."

  "Oh, I'm definitely afraid," Ethan assured her. "I'm just handling it with inappropriate humor. It's kind of my thing." He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, revealing eyes that were an unusual shade somewhere between green and gold—eyes that, despite his casual demeanor, held a sharp intelligence.

  Lillith circled him like a panther sizing up its prey. For the first time, she took proper stock of her summoner. Lean but not scrawny, with a face that was handsome in an approachable, boyish way—stubble that spoke of negligence rather than style, full lips prone to smirking, and those peculiar eyes that seemed to see more than they should. He wasn't what she typically expected from summoners—no desperate lust in his gaze, no trembling hands reaching for her. Just that infuriating calm punctuated by humor.

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

  Ethan caught a scent like cinnamon and smoke that made his head swim as she moved closer. Each step was liquid grace, her hips swaying in a rhythm designed by evolution and enhanced by millennia of practice to bypass rational thought and target something much more primitive in the male brain.

  "You summoned me for a purpose, mortal," she purred, her voice dropping to a timbre that seemed to resonate directly with his nervous system. "Your desires called to me across the dimensions."

  Her form seemed to shimmer, the already revealing armor dissolving and reforming. The new outfit—if it could even be called that—was little more than strategic shadows and whispers of silk that clung to her curves like devoted worshippers. The transformation left Ethan momentarily speechless, his mouth suddenly dry.

  "Let me fulfill your darkest fantasies," she continued, stepping close enough that he could feel the supernatural heat radiating from her skin. One clawed finger traced a line from his collarbone to his chest, leaving a trail of tingling sensation. "I can be anything you want, take any form that pleases you." To emphasize her point, her features subtly shifted—hair color changing, eyes altering shape—a dizzying carousel of beauty variations, all with the same underlying impossible perfection.

  Ethan swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. Despite his immunity to her magical compulsion, he was still very much affected by her physical presence. "That's, uh, very generous," he managed, voice slightly hoarse. "But maybe we could start with coffee? I'm old-fashioned that way."

  The succubus queen stopped directly in front of him, close enough that he could feel heat radiating from her skin. "Your resistance is adorable, but pointless." She ran a finger along his jawline, nails sharp enough to leave the faintest scratch. "I can smell your desire, Ethan Rayner."

  "You know my name?"

  "I know everything about you," she purred, her voice dropping to a whisper as she leaned in. "Every secret wish, every hidden longing... every dream."

  Something flickered in Ethan's mind—a dream of fire and a sword wreathed in flames. He blinked it away, distracted by the demoness now trailing her fingers down his chest.

  "Your soul will be exquisite," Lillith murmured, her eyes glowing brighter. "And in exchange, I'll give you pleasure beyond mortal comprehension."

  Her lips were inches from his, and Ethan felt a pull toward her that went beyond physical attraction—something magical, insistent, that tried to override his will. But underneath that compulsion was a strange feeling of... immunity? Like a vaccine recognizing a familiar virus.

  "That's a tempting offer," Ethan managed, "but I'm kind of attached to my soul. Literally and figuratively."

  Lillith's smile was predatory. "You won't be when I'm finished."

  In a movement too fast to track, she pushed him backward. The air shifted, reality bending to her will, and suddenly his bed materialized behind him though it had been in another room. Ethan fell onto the mattress with a surprised grunt, and before he could regain his bearings, Lillith was above him.

  She moved like liquid sin, her body flowing over his with practiced precision. One knee pressed between his legs as she straddled him, her weight both substantial and somehow ethereal. The subtle glow of her skin cast them both in violet shadow, and her hair fell around them like a curtain, enclosing them in a private world scented with exotic spices and dark promises.

  "Last chance to surrender willingly," she whispered, her breath impossibly sweet against his face. "It's so much more... pleasurable that way."

  Ethan's heart raced, blood rushing in his ears and to various other parts of his anatomy that were definitely not immune to the physical reality of a beautiful woman on top of him. Her skin against his burned like satin-wrapped fire, and everywhere they touched sent jolts of electricity through his nervous system.

  She lowered her head, lips brushing his neck with feather-light touches that made his breath catch. Her sharp teeth grazed his pulse point, tongue darting out to taste his skin. Ethan's hands moved of their own accord, finding the curve of her waist, feeling the impossible softness of her skin contrasted with the firmness of the body beneath.

  "Tell me you want this," she murmured against his throat, one hand sliding beneath his t-shirt, nails lightly scratching patterns that made his muscles jump and contract. "Tell me you'll give me everything."

  Instead of answering, Ethan tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth to his. Their lips met in a collision that should have been apocalyptic—her mouth capturing his in a kiss that should have melted his resistance like ice in a furnace. Her tongue teased the seam of his lips, demanding entry, and he granted it, the kiss deepening with an intensity that had the temperature in the room rising several degrees.

  Lillith's hands explored his body with expert precision, finding sensitive spots he didn't even know he had. She rolled her hips against his in a rhythm as old as sin itself, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. The air around them shimmered with crimson energy as she wove her magic into the encounter, tendrils of power reaching for his essence.

  But even as his body responded to her touch with embarrassing enthusiasm, something within Ethan remained untouched, untouchable. The magic slid off him like water from oil, never finding purchase in his soul.

  As seconds passed, Lillith's movements became less fluid, more frustrated. The kiss turned almost angry, demanding, as if she could force her way through whatever barrier protected him. Finally, she pulled back, her eyes wide with disbelief, chest rising and falling with unnecessary breath.

  "What are you?" she demanded, genuine shock replacing the seductive mask.

  "Um, software engineer? Mediocre gamer? Occasionally I do yoga, but not consistently enough to—"

  "Your soul," Lillith hissed, placing a hand over his heart. "I can't... I can't taste it. I can't even touch it."

  She tried again, her palm glowing with crimson energy that sank into his chest. Ethan felt a warm tingling, like pins and needles, but nothing more. Lillith's expression morphed from confusion to outrage.

  "This is impossible!" she hissed, still straddling him but now with her hands pressed against his chest as if trying to physically access what her magic could not reach. "No mortal resists my power! None in five thousand years!"

  Her frustration was palpable, the air around them crackling with disrupted energies. A lesser succubus might have seemed diminished by such failure, but Lillith's rage only enhanced her dark beauty—her eyes glowing brighter, the flush of anger spreading across her violet skin in a way that made the patterns of light shift hypnotically.

  "If it helps," Ethan offered, still breathless from their encounter, hair mussed and lips slightly swollen from her kisses, "you're very attractive. Like, intimidatingly so. I'm definitely interested, just not in the soul-surrendering part."

  His body remained treacherously responsive beneath her, a fact that seemed to infuriate her further. She leaned down until their faces were inches apart, her expression a terrifying mixture of desire and murderous intent. Her tongue, slightly pointed and unnaturally long, traced her upper lip in a gesture that was both threatening and erotic.

  "You think this is a game?" she whispered, voice like honey over broken glass. "You think you can summon the Queen of Lust and deny her your essence?"

  She rolled her hips against him once more, a deliberate movement that drew another involuntary sound from his throat, his hands tightening on her waist. For a moment, the fury in her eyes was replaced by something else—a predatory satisfaction that suggested she might find other ways to claim victory.

  Then, abruptly, she snarled, revealing teeth too sharp to be human—not just fangs but rows of pointed perfection designed for tearing. She pushed herself off him with inhuman grace and stood at the foot of the bed. As Ethan watched, her form began to change, growing larger, more terrible—shadows stretching behind her like vast wings, horns lengthening and curling like a ram's, eyes blazing with hellfire that illuminated the room in crimson.

  The temperature plummeted, frost forming on the windows despite the summer night outside. The very air seemed to bend around her, reality struggling to contain the true form of the being he had so foolishly summoned.

  "You are an abomination," she declared, her voice no longer seductive but multi-layered and echoing with otherworldly power, as if a chorus of damned souls spoke through her. "A freak of nature."

  Ethan sat up, oddly offended. "That seems a bit extreme. Maybe we're just incompatible? It happens to everyone."

  The demoness ignited her hand with hellfire, looking for all the world like she was about to incinerate him on the spot. Then, abruptly, the flames extinguished. Her expression changed—the rage replaced by something calculating and curious.

  "No," she said slowly. "No, you're something else. Something... interesting."

  She swept toward him, gripping his chin with inhuman strength. "You're coming with me."

  "Coming with—wait, where?" Ethan's calm finally began to crack. "I have work on Monday!"

  "To Hell, obviously." Lillith's smile was all teeth and no humor. "My scientists and sorcerers will determine what you are, and why you're immune to my powers. It's been centuries since I've encountered a genuine mystery."

  "Can't we just exchange numbers instead? I'm free next weekend—"

  But darkness was already swirling around them, reality tearing at the edges. The last thing Ethan saw was his apartment disappearing in a vortex of shadow and flame, his collection of gaming controllers spinning in the magical wind.

  "My security deposit," he mourned, as the human world vanished entirely.

  The twisted spires of the Infernal Palace awaited, and somewhere in his mind, Ethan had the strangest feeling he'd seen them before—in dreams of fire and a blazing sword.