The vortex of shadow and flame collapsed around them with a thunderous implosion, leaving Ethan disoriented and gasping. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in what could only be described as a throne room designed by someone with an unlimited budget and questionable taste.

  Soaring ceilings arched hundreds of feet overhead, supported by columns of obsidian that twisted like tortured souls frozen in black glass. Massive chandeliers crafted from what appeared to be bone and crystal cast a blood-red glow over everything. Gothic architecture collided with modern luxury—medieval tapestries depicting graphic torture scenes hung next to sleek, backlit shelves displaying artifacts that hurt Ethan's eyes to look at directly.

  "Welcome to my humble abode," Lillith said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she gestured grandly. She had reverted to her more humanoid form, though "humanoid" was a generous description for a violet-skinned demoness with horns and glowing eyes.

  "Humble isn't the word I'd use," Ethan replied, trying to ignore the trembling in his knees. "Excessive? Terrifying? A bit much?"

  Lillith's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You have no concept of 'a bit much' until you've seen the Dark Lord's summer palace. Now that is tacky."

  A pair of massive doors at the far end of the throne room swung open, and a procession of creatures scurried in. Some resembled humans with minor modifications—extra limbs, unusual skin colors, too many or too few eyes. Others were barely recognizable as sentient beings, more like ambulatory nightmares.

  "My Queen! You've returned!" exclaimed a diminutive demon with gray skin and ears that would have made Dumbo jealous. His eyes widened when he spotted Ethan. "And you've brought... a human?"

  "Vesper," Lillith addressed the small demon, "prepare the East Wing guest quarters. Our visitor will be staying indefinitely."

  "Guest quarters?" Ethan interrupted. "That sounds promising. I was expecting a dungeon situation."

  Lillith's smile turned predatory. "Oh, the dungeons are fully booked this millennium. Besides, I can't have my new pet getting sick before my scientists determine why you're immune to my powers."

  "Pet?" Ethan's voice cracked. "I'm not really a pet person. I mean, I'm not really a pet."

  "Semantics," Lillith waved dismissively. "Vesper, also have the proper attire prepared."

  The small demon bowed so low his pointed nose nearly touched the floor. "The usual pet ensemble, Your Malevolence?"

  "Indeed." Lillith's ember eyes gleamed with mischief. "And inform the court that I will be presenting my new acquisition at tonight's gathering."

  As the demons dispersed to carry out their queen's orders, Ethan found himself alone with Lillith. She circled him slowly, her hips swaying hypnotically.

  "So, what's the plan here?" Ethan asked, trying to sound casual. "You parade me around like a show poodle, poke me with various magical implements, and then what? Send me home with a gift basket?"

  "Don't be absurd," Lillith replied. "Gift baskets are for departing guests. You won't be departing." She stopped in front of him, running a clawed finger down his cheek. "You, Ethan Rayner, are far too interesting to release back into the wild."

  "I have a job," Ethan protested. "Deadlines. A Netflix subscription that auto-renews next week."

  "How adorable," Lillith cooed. "You think your little mortal concerns matter here." She gestured, and a hidden door in the wall slid open. "Come. Let me show you your new home."

  ---

  Word traveled quickly through the layers of Hell. In the lava-lit taverns of the Third Circle, lesser demons huddled over drinks that bubbled and smoked.

  "The Queen brought back a human," whispered a bat-winged creature to its companions. "A living one."

  "Impossible," hissed another. "She hasn't taken an interest in the mortal realm in centuries."

  In the opulent mansions of the Fifth Circle, demon nobility exchanged meaningful glances over glasses of vintage soul-wine.

  "This changes the balance," murmured Lady Zara Nightshade to her coterie of admirers. Her obsidian hair cascaded over shoulders pale as moonlight, her crimson eyes calculating. "Lillith has always been unpredictable, but this... this is unprecedented."

  A messenger demon materialized in a puff of sulfurous smoke. "My lady," it wheezed, "your spies report that the human appears immune to the Queen's powers."

  Zara's perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. "Immune? How fascinating." She tapped long nails against her wine glass, the sound like bones breaking. "Perhaps I should pay my dear cousin a visit. To welcome her new... pet."

  ---

  Ethan followed Lillith through a labyrinth of corridors, each more intimidating than the last. Gargoyles that he was certain moved when he wasn't looking perched on pedestals. Suits of armor stood at attention, steam occasionally hissing from their visors.

  "This place needs a map," Ethan muttered. "Or at least some 'You Are Here' signs."

  "The palace reconfigures itself periodically," Lillith replied casually. "Maps would be pointless."

  "Of course it does," Ethan sighed. "Because why make anything simple when you can make it nightmarishly complicated?"

  Lillith stopped so abruptly that Ethan nearly collided with her. She turned, eyes narrowing. "You continue to speak to me without the proper deference. Most mortals would be groveling, begging for mercy."

  "Would that help?" Ethan asked genuinely.

  "No," Lillith admitted after a moment. "But it would be appropriate."

  "I'll work on my groveling technique," Ethan promised. "But in my defense, I didn't exactly volunteer for an interdimensional kidnapping."

  Something that might have been amusement flickered across Lillith's perfect features before she masked it. "Your defiance is..." she paused, searching for the right word, "refreshing. Irritating, but refreshing."

  They reached an ornate door carved with scenes that made Ethan blush and look away. Lillith placed her palm against it, and the door swung open to reveal a suite that would have made a Saudi prince feel inadequate.

  The floors were polished black marble veined with crimson. A bed large enough to accommodate a small orgy dominated one wall, draped in silk sheets that seemed to shift colors as they moved. A sitting area featured furniture crafted from materials Ethan couldn't identify but suspected might once have been alive. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a vista of Hell that was both breathtaking and terrifying—twisted spires, lakes of fire, and skies where lightning never ceased.

  "These are your chambers," Lillith said. "The bathroom is through there, and the wardrobe should now contain appropriate attire."

  "Define 'appropriate,'" Ethan said suspiciously.

  Lillith's smile was all teeth. "Why don't you find out?"

  Curiosity overcoming his better judgment, Ethan approached the wardrobe—a massive structure of dark wood and bone inlay. When he pulled open the doors, he nearly slammed them shut again.

  "You're joking," he said flatly.

  Inside hung an assortment of what could only be described as BDSM-inspired pet costumes. Leather harnesses with strategic coverage, collars studded with gemstones, and things with straps whose purpose Ethan couldn't begin to guess.

  "This is the 'usual pet ensemble'?" he asked, holding up what appeared to be a leather collar attached to embarrassingly tiny shorts.

  "Actually, that's one of the more conservative options," Lillith noted, looking genuinely amused. "The court expects a certain... presentation."

  "I'm not wearing this," Ethan stated firmly.

  Lillith's amusement vanished, replaced by cold authority. "You will wear what I provide, or you will wear nothing at all. Your choice."

  They stared at each other, locked in a battle of wills. Finally, Ethan grabbed the least revealing option—still revealing by any human standard, but at least it covered the essentials.

  "Fine," he said. "But I draw the line at tricks. I will not sit, stay, or roll over."

  "We'll see," Lillith replied cryptically. "I'll give you privacy to change. Then I'll show you my personal chambers before the court gathering."

  She swept from the room, leaving Ethan alone with his thoughts and a wardrobe full of nightmare fashion.

  "This is fine," he muttered to himself, examining the leather contraption in his hands. "Everything is completely fine."

  ---

  Half an hour later, Ethan stood in the most humiliating outfit of his life, tugging futilely at the edges of the leather shorts that covered far less than he was comfortable with. The matching harness crossed his chest in ways that emphasized rather than concealed, and the collar around his neck felt like a constant reminder of his new status.

  A knock at the door preceded Lillith's entrance. She paused, those ember eyes taking in his appearance with unmistakable appreciation.

  "Well, well," she purred. "Perhaps there's hope for you yet."

  Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, acutely aware of how much skin was exposed. "I feel ridiculous."

  "You look delicious," Lillith countered, circling him predatorily. "The court will be impressed."

  "Glad to hear my public humiliation meets your standards," Ethan replied dryly.

  Lillith laughed, the sound like dark bells. "Oh, Ethan. If I wanted to humiliate you, believe me, you'd know it." She gestured toward the door. "Come. I promised you a tour."

  She led him through more hallways into a wing that was noticeably different—more personal, less designed to intimidate. The decor remained luxurious but with touches that suggested actual taste rather than mere ostentation.

  "My private quarters," Lillith explained, pushing open a set of double doors.

  Her bedroom made Ethan's "guest" suite look modest. A bed that could only be described as monumental dominated the space, draped in silks of deep purple and black. Art that would have been banned in most human galleries adorned the walls—beautiful and disturbing in equal measure.

  But it was the bathroom that truly took Ethan's breath away. Through an archway lay a space that defied physics—a steaming pool large enough to qualify as a small lake occupied the center, fed by waterfalls that seemed to originate from nowhere. The water glowed with a soft blue luminescence.

  "Is that... safe to touch?" Ethan asked, eyeing the glowing liquid.

  "It won't kill you," Lillith replied. "It's infused with minerals from the Ninth Circle. Excellent for the skin." Her lips curved in a smile that made his heart rate spike. "Care to test it?"

  Before Ethan could answer, Lillith's clothes dissolved into smoke, leaving her standing in naked glory. The sudden nudity shocked Ethan into stillness, his eyes widening before he hastily averted his gaze.

  "What are you doing?" he managed, staring intently at a particularly interesting ceiling tile.

  "Taking a bath," Lillith replied innocently. "It's been a long day of running Hell and kidnapping mortals."

  She descended into the pool with feline grace, the glowing water embracing her curves. "Join me," she commanded, her voice somewhere between invitation and order. "I need to conduct some tests."

  "Tests?" Ethan repeated skeptically. "In a bath?"

  "Succubi powers operate differently in various environments," Lillith explained. "I need to determine the full extent of your... resistance."

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Ethan weighed his options, which seemed limited given his current status as interdimensional captive. With a sigh of resignation, he approached the edge of the pool, still wearing his ridiculous pet outfit.

  "Those won't be necessary," Lillith said, gesturing at his attire.

  "I think I'll keep them, thanks," Ethan replied stubbornly.

  Lillith shrugged. "Suit yourself. Though leather and water don't mix well."

  Reluctantly, Ethan turned his back, quickly stripped down to underwear that he definitely wasn't removing, and slipped into the water. It was shockingly pleasant—warm without being hot, with a tingling sensation that seemed to penetrate to his muscles.

  "Wow," he admitted. "That actually feels amazing."

  "Hell has its perks," Lillith said, moving closer through the glowing water. Her skin seemed to absorb the blue light, giving her a bioluminescent quality. "Now, for the tests."

  She circled him, reminiscent of a shark. "I'll try various forms of influence. Tell me if you feel anything."

  What followed was possibly the most awkward thirty minutes of Ethan's life. Lillith tried everything from direct touch—her fingers trailing across his chest underwater—to whispering words in languages that made his ears physically uncomfortable. She blew perfumed breath that changed colors, altered her appearance subtly and dramatically, and even sang notes that made the water vibrate around them.

  Throughout it all, Ethan felt the physical effects—shivers when her fingers traced his spine, a racing heart when she pressed close enough that he could feel the heat of her skin against his—but the magical compulsion she clearly intended never took hold.

  "Fascinating," Lillith finally declared, floating on her back. The position did nothing to help Ethan's concentration. "You're not just resistant; you're completely immune. It's as if your soul has been... inoculated against demonic influence."

  "Lucky me," Ethan said, trying to keep his eyes on her face and nowhere else. "Are we done with the experiments? Because I'm turning into a prune here."

  Lillith glided closer, her expression unreadable. "Not quite." She reached out, placing a hand over his heart. "There's one more test."

  The water around them began to glow brighter, swirling with currents that hadn't been there before. Ethan felt a building pressure in his chest, not painful but intense, as if something inside him was responding to her touch.

  "What are you—"

  His question cut off as a sudden image flashed through his mind—fire, a sword burning with white flames, and a figure who might have been himself wielding it against a darkness that consumed everything. The vision was gone as quickly as it came, leaving him gasping.

  Lillith jerked her hand away as if burned, her eyes wide. "What was that?"

  "You tell me," Ethan said, still trying to catch his breath. "You're the one doing the demon magic."

  Lillith stared at him, calculation and confusion warring in her expression. "That wasn't me." She moved away, suddenly all business. "We're done for now. You should prepare for the court gathering tonight."

  She exited the pool in a single fluid motion, water streaming off her perfect form before she wrapped herself in a robe that materialized from nowhere. Ethan tried not to stare and failed miserably.

  "A servant will collect you in one hour," she said, her voice once again the imperious queen rather than the curious scientist. "Don't be late."

  With that, she swept from the bathroom, leaving Ethan alone in the glowing pool, confused and more than a little disturbed by the vision he'd experienced.

  ---

  Ethan was toweling off in his chambers when he noticed it—a display case he'd overlooked earlier, containing a sword. Unlike the other ostentatious decorations, this blade was simple, almost plain, with a leather-wrapped hilt and a steel blade that had seen better days. Something about it drew him closer.

  Without thinking, he reached out and touched the hilt. The metal was warm beneath his fingers, and for a split second, he could have sworn the blade glowed with a soft white light. He blinked, and the phenomenon was gone.

  "Weird," he muttered, pulling his hand back.

  A knock at the door announced the arrival of his escort—a hulking demon with the head of a bull and the body of a weightlifter.

  "Time to go, pet," the creature rumbled, its voice like stones grinding together.

  Ethan sighed, adjusting his humiliating outfit one last time. "Lead the way, Ferdinand."

  The bull-headed demon growled but didn't correct him. They made their way through the palace's twisting corridors toward the sound of music and conversation—if the cacophony of inhuman voices could be called conversation.

  The throne room had been transformed into a grand hall for the gathering. Demons of every description mingled in their finery—some wearing what appeared to be high fashion, others barely dressed at all, and some sporting their grotesque natural forms with pride.

  All conversation stopped when Ethan entered. Hundreds of inhuman eyes turned to stare at him—some curious, some hungry, all unsettling.

  Lillith sat on a raised dais at the far end, lounging on a throne that appeared to be made of fused bones and black metal. She wore a gown that redefined the concept of a plunging neckline, the fabric clinging to her curves before pooling around her feet like liquid shadow. A crown of thorns and black diamonds rested on her brow.

  "Approach," she commanded, her voice carrying effortlessly across the hall.

  Ethan walked forward, acutely aware of the demonic eyes following his every move. The leather outfit squeaked embarrassingly with each step.

  "Behold," Lillith announced to the assembled court, "my newest acquisition. A mortal with the unique ability to resist my power."

  A murmur ran through the crowd—surprise, disbelief, and sudden interest.

  "Impossible," somebody whispered loudly enough to be heard.

  "See for yourselves," Lillith challenged. She turned to Ethan, her eyes glowing brighter. "Kneel before me, pet."

  Ethan felt the push of her magic—like a suggestion whispered directly to his subconscious—but it slid off him like water from oil. He remained standing, quirking an eyebrow at her.

  "I told you," he said quietly. "No tricks."

  Gasps and excited chattering erupted from the demonic audience. Lillith's expression flickered between annoyance and something almost like pride.

  "As you can see," she addressed the court, "he's quite the anomaly. One I intend to study thoroughly."

  A tall, slender demoness with skin like polished onyx stepped forward from the crowd. Her beauty rivaled Lillith's, though in a sharper, more dangerous way.

  "Cousin," she said, voice like silk. "What a fascinating toy you've found. Perhaps you'd consider lending him out for... collaborative research?"

  Lillith's smile remained fixed, but her eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't recall asking for your input, Zara."

  "Merely offering my expertise," Zara replied, her gaze raking over Ethan in a way that made him feel like a particularly interesting insect. "After all, what good is power if it isn't shared?"

  The tension between the two demonesses was palpable. Ethan got the distinct impression he was witnessing more than a casual exchange—this was politics, demon style.

  "Your concern is noted," Lillith said coldly. "And unnecessary."

  Zara bowed, a gesture that somehow managed to be both respectful and mocking. "As you wish, my Queen. But should you change your mind..." Her eyes met Ethan's, and he felt a chill that had nothing to do with his minimal clothing. "I'd be most accommodating."

  She melted back into the crowd, but the damage was done. Other demons began to approach, offering compliments to Lillith that thinly veiled their own interest in her unusual pet. Ethan found himself the center of unwanted attention, prodded and examined by creatures whose touch made his skin crawl.

  Throughout it all, Lillith kept him close, her hand occasionally coming to rest possessively on his shoulder or neck. Whether this was protection or a statement of ownership, Ethan couldn't tell, but he found himself grateful either way.

  The gathering continued for hours, with entertainment that ranged from the impressive (acrobats defying gravity) to the disturbing (activities Ethan tried very hard not to watch involving willing and possibly unwilling participants). Finally, as what passed for night in Hell descended, the court began to disperse.

  "You performed adequately," Lillith told him as they returned to his chambers. "The court is suitably intrigued."

  "Glad to hear my captivity is going well," Ethan replied, exhaustion making his sarcasm sharper than intended.

  Lillith paused outside his door. "You should know, you've become a valuable commodity simply by virtue of your resistance. There are those who would take you from me if they could."

  "Like your cousin?" Ethan asked. "She seemed... intense."

  "Zara is ambitious and dangerous," Lillith confirmed. "Do not trust her under any circumstances."

  "Wasn't planning on trusting any demons, to be honest."

  Lillith's lips curved slightly. "Wise policy." She tilted her head, studying him. "You're adapting remarkably well to all this. Most mortals would have broken by now."

  Ethan shrugged. "I've had weirder weekends."

  "Liar," Lillith said, but there was amusement in her voice. "Rest while you can. Tomorrow, the real tests begin."

  She turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. Do not wander the palace alone. There are places even I don't go willingly."

  With that ominous warning, she left him at his door. Ethan entered his chambers, collapsed onto the massive bed, and stared at the ceiling. Demonic politics, magical immunity, and a vision of himself wielding a flaming sword—it was a lot to process.

  Sleep eventually claimed him, but his dreams were troubled—fire and darkness, a sword in his hand, and a voice that might have been his own but older, stronger, crying out a name he couldn't quite catch. Behind it all was a sense of something forgotten, something vital, struggling to be remembered.

  ---

  Ethan woke suddenly, unsure what had disturbed his sleep. The chamber was dark except for the ambient glow from the hellscape outside his windows. He sat up, listening.

  There—a soft sound, like fabric brushing against stone. Someone was in his room.

  Before he could call out, a hand clamped over his mouth. "Not a sound," whispered a voice close to his ear.

  Ethan nodded, and the hand withdrew. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing a figure in black standing beside his bed—humanoid, but with too many joints in their limbs.

  "What—" Ethan began, but the figure made a cutting motion.

  "The Queen must die tonight," the intruder hissed. "Stay here and you'll be spared."

  The implications clicked together in Ethan's mind. Assassins. In the palace. Targeting Lillith.

  The figure moved toward the door, joined by shadows that detached themselves from the corners of the room—more assassins Ethan hadn't even noticed. They moved with predatory grace, weapons glinting dully in the minimal light.

  Ethan had a choice to make. Stay put as instructed and let whatever was about to happen unfold, or warn the woman who had kidnapped him and planned to keep him as a pet indefinitely.

  It wasn't much of a choice at all.

  As soon as the assassins slipped from his room, Ethan scrambled from the bed, grabbed the first clothing he could find—unfortunately still the leather pet outfit—and followed. The palace corridors were eerily silent, the usual guards nowhere to be seen.

  The assassins moved with purpose, clearly knowing where they were going despite the palace's shifting nature. Ethan kept to the shadows, following at a distance. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline making every sense hyperalert.

  They were heading toward Lillith's private chambers.

  Ethan needed to get ahead of them, to warn her. He remembered a servants' passage Lillith had pointed out during their tour—a shortcut that might let him reach her first. Breaking into a run, he darted down a side corridor, praying his memory was accurate.

  The passage was narrow and dark, forcing him to feel his way forward. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably less than a minute, he emerged into a familiar hallway—just outside Lillith's bedroom.

  He rushed to the door, hesitated for a split second, then pushed it open without knocking. "Lillith! There are—"

  The warning died in his throat. The room was empty, the massive bed undisturbed. Where was she?

  Movement at the main entrance caught his attention—the assassins had arrived. Ethan ducked behind a curtain just as they entered, moving with silent deadliness.

  "The Queen isn't here," one hissed.

  "Check the bath chamber," another replied. "She often soaks at this hour."

  They moved toward the archway leading to the glowing pool. Ethan's mind raced. If Lillith was in there, vulnerable and unaware...

  Without thinking through the consequences, he stepped out from his hiding place. "Hey! Demon assassin guys! Looking for someone?"

  All heads swiveled toward him, eyes gleaming in the darkness. Not his smartest move, perhaps, but it achieved the desired effect—their attention was no longer on finding Lillith.

  "The pet," one growled. "Kill him. He's seen too much."

  "That's a bit excessive," Ethan said, backing away. "Can't we talk about this?"

  Apparently not. The assassins surged toward him, weapons raised. Ethan dodged the first attack more by luck than skill, ducking under a sword that would have taken his head off. He grabbed the nearest object—a heavy candlestick—and swung it wildly.

  By some miracle, his desperate swing connected, sending one assassin staggering backward. The surprise of his resistance created a momentary opening, and Ethan bolted for the door, only to find it blocked by another attacker.

  Cornered and outnumbered, Ethan backed toward the balcony. The assassins advanced slowly now, confident in their prey.

  "Nothing personal, pet," said the apparent leader. "Wrong place, wrong time."

  The first assassin lunged. Ethan sidestepped, years of gaming reflexes kicking in, and grabbed the outstretched arm. Using the attacker's momentum, he pulled and twisted, sending the assassin crashing into a table.

  The move surprised everyone, including Ethan.

  The remaining assassins attacked as one. Ethan found himself responding with moves he didn't know he possessed—blocking, countering, even landing strikes that sent his opponents reeling. It was as if his body remembered skills his mind had forgotten.

  One assassin got past his guard, blade slicing his arm. Pain flared, but with it came something else—anger, yes, but also power. A familiar heat built in his chest, spreading outward through his limbs.

  For a brief, disorienting moment, Ethan felt displaced from himself—as if someone else wore his skin, someone older, more dangerous. His vision sharpened, the room suddenly brighter though no new light had entered.

  The assassins faltered, their confidence wavering as something changed in their prey. One of them, staring at Ethan, whispered a single word that cut through the chaos:

  "Alcazar."

  The name meant nothing to Ethan, yet everything. His body moved with newfound purpose, each strike precise and devastating. One by one, the assassins fell before him, until only the leader remained.

  "Impossible," the creature hissed, backing away. "You cannot be—"

  Whatever he was about to say was cut short as a shadow fell across him from behind. Lillith stood in the doorway, her beauty transformed into something terrible by rage. With a gesture, she lifted the assassin into the air, his limbs contorting at impossible angles.

  "Who sent you?" she demanded, her voice resonating with power.

  The assassin's only response was a gurgling laugh. "Too late... the wheels... are in motion."

  Lillith closed her fist, and the assassin imploded, collapsing into a small, dense object that fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

  Silence fell. Ethan stood amidst the carnage, blood—his and theirs—staining his ridiculous pet outfit, breathing heavily. The strange power that had filled him moments ago receded, leaving him feeling hollow and confused.

  Lillith turned to him, her expression unreadable. "You're bleeding."

  Ethan looked down at his arm. "Yeah. Turns out demon blades are sharp. Who knew?"

  "You saved my life," Lillith said, something like wonder in her voice. "Why?"

  It was a good question. Ethan shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

  Lillith approached slowly, as if seeing him for the first time. "The right thing to do," she repeated, tasting the words. "How very... human."

  She placed her hand over his wound, and warmth spread through his arm. When she removed her hand, the cut had closed, leaving only a faint scar.

  "Thank you," she said, the words clearly unfamiliar on her tongue.

  Ethan nodded, suddenly exhausted. "Don't mention it. Really, don't—it'll ruin my reputation as your rebellious pet."

  A ghost of a smile touched Lillith's lips. "Indeed."

  She studied the bodies of the fallen assassins, her expression turning grim. "This was no random attack. Someone is moving against me directly."

  "Your cousin?" Ethan suggested.

  "Perhaps." Lillith knelt beside one corpse, examining a symbol etched into its armor. "Though this suggests something more complex."

  She rose, her decision made. "You'll be moved to chambers adjoining mine until this threat is neutralized. I can't risk losing my most interesting... guest."

  "I'm flattered," Ethan said dryly. "But what about the whole 'studying me' plan?"

  "Oh, that continues," Lillith assured him, her eyes gleaming. "But now with the added bonus of mutual protection."

  She gestured, and servants materialized from nowhere to deal with the bodies. "Rest," she commanded. "Tomorrow, we begin your training."

  "Training?" Ethan echoed. "For what?"

  Lillith's smile was enigmatic. "You fought with skills you shouldn't possess. I intend to find out why—and how to make you even more dangerous."

  As dawn broke over the impossible landscape of Hell, Ethan found himself escorted to new chambers connected directly to Lillith's suite. The window offered a better view of the Infernal Palace's grounds, where demons of all descriptions went about their business.

  In the distance, something that might have been a cloud but moved with too much purpose was approaching. Ethan shivered, sensing that his adventure in Hell was just beginning.

  And somewhere in his mind, that name echoed—Alcazar—bringing with it fragments of memories that couldn't possibly be his own.