The Devil And His Rose

Rose's head snapped toward the door behind her, the sound of it closing still echoing in her ears.

Who the hell was controlling that door? she thought, unease prickling at her skin.

"Uh… miss," the maid's voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts, soft yet laced with something close to desperation.

"If you don't release them, they'll stand here all night long."

The way she said it made Rose feel like she was subtly pleading on behalf of her coworkers.

"Ah… sure," Rose mumbled, turning her attention back to the unmoving line of workers. Their rigid forms and bowed heads still unsettled her.

"You can all stop bowing down and go… do your business?" she said, her voice uncertain, almost questioning.

Then, as an afterthought, she quickly added, "Or better still, go to bed."

She wasn't sure if this was how things always worked around here, but the whole setup felt wrong.

They didn't move like normal people; they seemed like they were being controlled, watched by some invisible presence she couldn't pinpoint.

"Thank you, miss," they all responded in unison, their voices blending into one as they began to straighten up. The synchronized motion sent a shiver down her spine.

"Wait!" Rose's voice rang out, louder than she intended. The workers froze mid-motion, as if her words had snapped an invisible chain around them tight.

"You all don't have to—" She stopped herself, unsure of what she was even trying to say.

"Don't ever welcome me or anyone else again," she said, finality lacing her tone, making it clear there was no room for discussion.

Hopefully they got what she was trying to say.

"Now, you can leave," she added with a dismissive wave, watching as the line of workers moved with eerie precision, dispersing silently into the mansion's shadows.

Turning her attention to the maid, who still stood dutifully holding her suitcase, Rose softened her expression slightly.

"Can you manage that, or do you need help?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with the barest hint of curiosity.

The maid shook her head quickly, her golden hair swaying. "No need, miss. I've got it," she said with quiet assurance, her delicate hands gripping the handle with ease.

Rose now sat on the edge of her bed, eyes scanning the room. It looked almost identical to her old one—a comfort, yet unnerving.

How the hell did he know what her room looked like? Had he been watching her? Even if he had, how could he have known what her old room looked like?

And beyond that, she hadn't even met him yet. Why didn't he think she was worth his time?

She pushed herself to her feet, anger bubbling inside. "That better not be the case, or else..." Her voice trailed off, frustration gnawing at her.

"Or else what?" A deep, masculine voice growled behind her, his breath hot against the back of her neck.

Rose froze, her heart pounding in her chest.

She spun around, almost tripping, but before she could fall, powerful arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against a hard, chiseled chest.

The heat from his body sent a shiver down her spine.

Who was this... breathtaking creature? Her pulse raced as she tried to take in the man before her—tall, muscular, impossibly handsome.

His red eyes glowed with an intensity that made her feel like she was about to be consumed.

Full lips that begged to be kissed, sharp jawline, and that fiery red hair. It glowed, almost like it was alive, a halo of flames that seemed to draw her in.

Without thinking, her hand moved toward his hair, her fingers trembling with the urge to touch it.

"Your hair..." she whispered, her voice barely a breath. Her hand hovered just above his fiery locks, as if afraid to disturb the perfect flame.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, her voice soft, full of awe.

Lucifer's eyes darkened at her words, a flicker of something he didn't expect igniting in his chest.

It was the same thing his Rosalina used to say. But this one—this woman—was different.

Her fingers brushed his face, she slapped him, and although he barely felt it, he couldn't help but play along, pretending it made a difference.

She had to believe it affected him, just to preserve her pride.

"You... don't you know anything about knocking?" she demanded, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest, creating a barrier between them.

His lips twitched into a grin. That was when the realization hit her—how the hell had he even gotten in?.

The door had been closed, locked even, and there wasn't a mark on the frame.

Her thoughts snapped back to the present when Lucifer began walking toward her, his steps slow, deliberate, as though savoring the moment.

"You look just like her," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "But you act nothing like her."

Rose's pulse quickened, dread settling in her stomach. What the hell was he? She couldn't tell. No tail, no fangs, no pointed ears. He didn't have any of the traits of the creatures she knew about.

"Please, stay back," she begged, the fear evident in her voice, her body rigid with tension.

She was terrified, but her mind still raced, trying to figure out what kind of being he was.

She was determined—her toxic trait was thinking she could outsmart anything, even something mythical.

But this creature? She couldn't even deal with a human, let alone something this... raw.

But there was one thing she could still cling to—intelligence. She had to be clever.

Tall, red eyes, red hair, a voice that could melt ice, and stupidly handsome... No horns. No fangs.

A mermaid. He had to be a mermaid.

And how do you take down a mermaid? With water.

Her eyes landed on the glass of water the maid had left for her. It was right there, her ticket to surviving this encounter.

She backed toward it, her heart thundering in her chest. "I told you to stop coming closer," she warned, her voice shaking.

"If you don't, you won't like what happens."

Lucifer's voice dropped an octave, sending a wave of heat through her body. "And what might happen, love?" he asked, his tone dripping with dark amusement.

He did not know what it was, but something about the way she stood vulnerable and defenseless in front of him, excited him.

"If you don't stop..." Rose's fingers wrapped around the glass, but before she could turn to face him again, she felt his chest, hard and solid, pressing against her back. Her breath hitched.

He took her wrist, his grip possessive, his touch sending jolts of heat through her. She felt his body pressed so intimately against hers, she could feel every inch of him—his warmth, his power.

"W-who do you think you are?" Her voice trembled, the words barely leaving her mouth.

Lucifer chuckled low, a sound that sent a shiver of both fear and desire through her. "Who do you think I am, Rosa?" he purred, his lips brushing against her ear.

That was when it hit her. The name. The way he said it. Recognition flashed in her mind, and a bolt of shock shot through her chest.

She knew exactly who he was now.