Lilith Crowe has always known when she was being watched. It was not paranoia, it was instinct honed by years of navigating crowded rooms, borrowed spaces, and lived that were never entirely hers. The sensation settled between her shoulders like a quiet pressure, neither threatening nor comforting.
Tonight,it followed her.
The gala had ended a day ago,yet it's residue clung to her skin, the echo of music, the weight of borrowed elegance, the strange sense that she had walked into something larger than herself and emerged unchanged.
That alone unsettled her.
She stepped out of the bus and started her 10 minute walk to her apartment after a long day from work. The little heels of her sandals clicking softly against the pavement. The city breathed around her, unaware, indifferent. Lilith reached into her purse for her keys and paused .... There was another envelope at her door,
Not slipped beneath it
Not taped crudely to the wood
Neatly placed against the frame, ivory paper stark against peeling paint, her name written in clean deliberate strokes
"Lilith Crowe"
She stared at it for a long moment, any sensible person would have hesitated , any sensible person would have felt fear creep up their spine. She crouched and picked it up, inside was a single card.
"You left before I could thank you for the conversation"
_L.A
That was all.
No threat.
No phone number.
No instructions.
She laughed softly under her breath not because it was funny, but because something about the gesture felt....restrained, almost old fashioned.
"Lucien ashborne"
She recognized the initial immediately. The billionaire, the host, the man whose presence at the gala had bent the room subtly towards him, like gravity disguised as charm. The man who had spoken to her like she was a moment not a quest, the man who hadn't asked for her name.
Most women had watched him the way one watched fire, beautiful, dangerous, best admired from a distance.
Lilith had watched him like a puzzle.
She slipped the card into her pocket and unlocked the door.
Lucien stood at the edge of the city, gazing down from the balcony of his penthouse as though it were a kingdom he merely tolerated.
Hell tugged at him.
It always did after three nights among humans. The pull was subtle at first a tightening beneath his ribs,a pressure behind his eyes but it grew insistent, demanding, acknowledgement. Judgement awaited him below. Sinners screamed his name in a thousand languages.
And yet....he thought of Lilith Crowe. The way she had spoken to him without reverence or hunger or fear.
She had not leaned closer.
Had not softened her voice.
Had not pretended ignorance to prolong his attention.
When he had asked what she thought of the gala, she had plainly said, "it's beautiful, but exhausting".
No one ever spoke to him like that.
His disciples had noticed his distraction. They always did....
"She is mortal", " Mordain had said quietly, eyes sharp, voice edged with warning.
Lucien had only smiled. "I know " he replied
That was the problem.
Lilith's morning routine had never been glamorous. She woke to the sound of her alarm and the distant hum of traffic, hair tangled, mind already listing obligations. She showered quickly, dressed in black slacks and a cream blouse, and tied her curls back with practiced ease.
The borrowed gown from the gala still lay folded on a chair, returned to anonymity.it had done it's job.
Her life resumed.
Coffee, toast, a quick exchange of voice notes with maev hearing her complaints about how Saturdays were boring as it was their off day and not having anything to do.
By nine, she was at the publishing firm where she used to work as an editorial assistant, navigating manuscripts and deadlines with the same quiet competence she brought to her new job at " Hawthorne and vale ", now she just helps out the manager her long time friend, with editing on Saturdays when she was free.
Yet.....
She felt it again.
That awareness.
At noon, when she stepped out to grab lunch, a black car idled across the street. It's windows were tinted, it's presence unobtrusive. She stared at it openly, the car did not move. Lilith crossed the street walking towards the car, the driver stepped out before she could reach the sidewalk.
"Miss Crowe", he said politely.
She raised an eyebrow, "that obvious huh?"
"I was instructed to deliver something to you". He said as he handed her a small box, inside was a book.
Old, leather bound and unmarked.
She looked back up at him. "What is this?"
" A gift" he replied slowly
"From who?" She asked
The drive hesitated, "Mr Ashborne".
Of course she said the herself
"And if I refuse"?
He smiled faintly "you already haven't"
The car drove away.
Lilith stood there longer than necessary, fingers brushing the worm cover she felt no fear only curiosity and bit of thrill.
Lucien watched her from the upper floors of a nearby building, unseen, unacknowledged.
She did not hesitate
Did not retreat
Did not summon protection or prayer
She accepted his presence as she accepted rain or shadow, whether she wished it or not.
That unsettled him.
Humans were predictable, fear softened them, power bent them.
Nothing bent"Lilith Crowe"
Mordain returned a few minutes later probably after circling the block the avoid suspicion from Lilith with a scowl on his face, yunno you have to stop making me do your dirty work, if you like a girl you speak to her like everyone else does. Ask her on a date or something he said while rolling his eyes.
"That's coming out of your paycheck" Lucien replied with a small smile from the teasing from his best friend.
"Like i care" Mordain replied.
Lilith read the book that night. It was a collection of myths, judgement, temptation, fallen kings. She recognized the themes immediately, yet something about the writing felt...personal.
As though the author had not imagined hell it felt as though he had remembered it.
On the final page, written in the same clean script as the letter.
"If you finish this, I would like to hear what you think"
_Lucien.
She closed the book slowly then smiled.
They met again three nights later. Not at a gala, not in a church or a dream. But in a quiet cafe, where steam curled from mugs and world felt safely mundane.
Lucien stood when she approached.
"Miss Crowe".
She looked him over openly this time tailored suit, impossible poise, long white hair,his built body, sharp jawline, eyes too knowing for a man his age. "He looks unreal" she thought to herself.
"Mr Ashborne" she replied as she tried to stop her eyes from drinking in the sight of him not going unnoticed by the smirking man staring right back at her.
"You weren't afraid to come",
She shrugged, sliding into the chair across from him. "You haven't given me a reason to be".
Lucien studied her like a verdict he had not yet reached.
"You should be", he said softly.
Lilith met his gaze unwavering. "Then I suppose",she replied calm as breath, "you'll have to do better".
Something ancient stirred within him.
For the first time in centuries, he smiled like a demon who had found something worth keeping. " Is that a challenge?" He asked
"Maybe" she replied
Would you like to have dinner with me a few days from now? He asked strangely polite even to himself as he waited a response.
She seemed deep in thought as she finally replied "we'll see" nonchalantly before packing up her things and without a goodbye she was out the door.
Lucien found it amusing as he chuckled to jingle of the bell above the door.