The Halloween Bargain

Copyright © October 2026 by CiaoSteve

CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work. This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons, or situations which could actually exist, hopefully. This is an entry for the 2026 Halloween Contest. I hope you enjoy and would welcome your comments and votes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 1

The Worst Halloween

Rebecca knew something was wrong before she had even opened the front door. She couldn't read minds, it would have been impossible, but she had that sinking feeling somewhere inside. Call it her sixth sense if you wanted, but already she was preparing herself for some form of bad news.

It was a ridiculous thought, really.

Nothing about the evening seemed extraordinarily unusual. The street was quiet, the pavement glittered with the remnants of a brief October shower, and the afternoon was doing what it did this time of year. It was getting dark early, and with the onset of night came activity.

An adult accompanied by five creatively dressed children walked past her. Somewhere further down the road a different child was laughing while a guardian called after them to slow down. It was to be expected, not that Rebecca was paying too much attention to the goings on around her.

It was Halloween after all, the one night when people dressed themselves up as things they weren't and pretended, for a few hours, that consequences belonged to somebody else. There would have been a time that she would have joined in but, at thirty-two, the only dressing up she did was with parties in mind rather than trick-or-treating.

And, this night of all nights, the party she had been planning to attend was no longer at the forefront of her mind. Instead, it was something more important which occupied her thoughts, something she suspected rather than knew. He should have been working from home, but from the front, the house seemed empty. There was no sign of life. It was such a small detail, yet it carried such weight.

Rebecca stood on the doorstep with her keys in her hand and stared at the darkened windows of her own house. She had no idea what had brought her home so early. The day had been a little slack, that was all. So why not? Why not relax a little as she had somewhere to be that evening.

Then she remembered that message, the one which had arrived earlier in the afternoon, along with the many similar ones which had gone before.

'Love you Becky... missing you always... don't forget dinner... don't be late.'

She had believed him. That was the part that would end up hurting so much. With hindsight she could have forgiven the other woman and even the lies. What she could never have forgiven was herself and the fact that she had trusted everything he had ever told her without even thinking twice.

Rebecca unlocked the door.

"Tom?" she called out.

There was no answer, and that simply fuelled her suspicions. If he wasn't here, where was he? His car was on the drive, and the door wasn't double-locked. Something didn't add up.

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She flicked on the hallway light, taking at least one room out of darkness. She dropped her handbag onto the little table beside the stairs, removed her coat, and loosened the scarf around her neck. Her shoulders ached from a day spent sitting through meetings, answering emails, and staring at a computer screen.

She was tired.

She was more than tired.

She was, and this wasn't something she would admit to, completely and profoundly sick of being sensible. Rebecca had spent most of her adult life being sensible, conforming with expectations, and generally doing the right thing.

She had good grades from a good university.

She had a good job with good pay, and good prospects.

She had a good house with a manageable mortgage and what she had always considered a trusted relationship.

She paid bills before they were due.

She apologised when other people bumped into her.

She never missed a birthday.

Rebecca was, in short, spectacularly well organised. Yet tonight she was about to discover something even she wasn't at all expecting, something she hadn't prepared herself for, something almost insulting about the efficiency of it.

Rebecca walked into the sitting room.

The room was almost dark, the only light coming in from the hallway and from the screen of Tom's laptop. The latter sat open on the coffee table, seemingly unused. Beside it was a wineglass, two wineglasses to be precise. One still had a little red wine in it. The other was empty. And in the air was a fragrance, a faint fragrance, sweet and floral.

Rebecca stopped. For several seconds she didn't move. Her mind began doing what minds did when presented with something they didn't want to understand. Immediately she looked for excuses, alternatives, innocent explanations. He'd had visitors, a friend, a colleague, maybe even his sister.

Maybe--

Then she saw the lipstick mark on the empty glass, bright, red, unmistakable. Rebecca stared at it, a sense of fury now washing over her as she considered the other option.

"Tom?" she called out again, louder.

This time there was a sound upstairs.

A door opened, followed by footsteps. Tom appeared at the top of the stairs wearing a white shirt that wasn't properly buttoned and looking just a little more dishevelled than he should have done.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

Neither of them spoke.

And somehow, in that silence, Rebecca understood everything.

He came downstairs slowly.

"You're home early," he announced.

She actually laughed.

It was a strange sound, thin and humourless.

"I live here," she replied. "No... I don't just live here... I own this house, so I think this means I can come and go as I please and when I please."

"I know," he answered.

"Do you... really?" she asked.

Tom stopped halfway across the room. For once, he didn't have an answer ready. Rebecca pointed towards the wineglasses.

"Who is she... and is she still here?" she asked.

"Rebecca..." he tried to counter.

"Who?" she repeated, a fury in her voice.

He rubbed his hand over his face. That gesture annoyed her more than it should have. He looked tired, as though this was an inconvenience, as though she were the person making the evening suddenly difficult.

"You don't know her," came the reply.

Rebecca nodded, unsure whether that was a relief or made it even worse.

"How long?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

"How long, Tom?" she repeated.

"A few months," he finally admitted.

And with that, the room seemed to shift slightly.

"A few months," Rebecca repeated, barely believing what she had heard.

"I was going to tell you," he replied.

"When?" she asked.

"Christmas? My birthday? The minute I found out?" she added.

He looked away.

That was when something inside her went very still, not shattered, not imploded, just stopped. She looked at him and suddenly couldn't understand why she'd spent so many years worrying about what he had thought. It seemed the consideration was in one direction only.

"Does she know about me?" she asked, a sense of calm resignation in her tone.

"Yes," he replied.

"How romantic," she responded.

"And does she know you were going to take me out this evening... a Halloween dinner, just the two of us?" she asked.

Tom was silent.

And with his hesitation came a sense of understanding. He had already made other plans, probably better plans, probably plans with this other woman, whoever she was.

"Are you leaving me?" she asked, the question a little rhetorical as she didn't care what the answer was.

He looked at her.

"I think we both know this hasn't been working for a while," he answered.

There it was, the sentence people used when they wanted to make a decision sound mutual. Rebecca swallowed.

"No," she said quietly. "You know."

He frowned.

"What?" he asked.

"You know this hasn't been working for you," she answered.

"That's not fair," he objected.

"Neither is finding that another woman has been in our house," she replied.

"It wasn't what you think... we didn't do anything..." he started to counter.

Rebecca stared at him.

She laughed.

This time it was almost genuine.

"That may be the stupidest thing you've ever said," she retorted.

She picked up her handbag and headed upstairs. All the time she wondered just what she was about to find. Maybe this other woman was still there, hiding upstairs, waiting for the coast to become clear enough to make her getaway. Worst still, maybe she would be in bed, their bed, the place they considered to be special.

In the end, Rebecca found neither.

There was nobody hiding and there was nothing to suggest the bed had been slept in, let alone anything more intimate had taken place. The bedroom was just as she had left it, clean, tidy, with everything where it should have been.

Even the dress hanging from the wardrobe door had been left there intentionally. For a moment, Rebecca just stood and stared at it. She had bought it especially for tonight, for their romantic dinner date. It was a simple black number, knee length, perfectly shaped to make an impact. And as she stared at it, so her mind was made up.

She had bought it for tonight.

She was going to wear it tonight.

She was going to show Tom that she didn't need him.

She was going to show Tom just what he was missing out on.

And moments later, she was doing just that. She looked absolutely stunning in that little black dress and a pair of opaque black tights. And, as Rebecca headed back downstairs, she knew she had grabbed his attention. She paused for a moment to grab her bag, slip on a coat and a pair of low heels.

"Where are you going?" Tom asked.

"Out!" came a snapped reply.

"I don't know where yet," she continued.

She grabbed her phone and keys, slipped them into the bag, then opened the door.

"All I know is that I want you gone before I get back," she added.

Then she walked away, shutting the door behind her and, with it, saying goodbye to the most recent chapter of her life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

An hour later Rebecca found herself sitting alone at the counter of a bar wearing the dress she had originally bought for dinner with Tom. It wasn't a place she had been to before and, for sure, it wasn't where she had expected to be having dinner, although she now doubted the latter had ever been booked.

She ordered a glass of wine, dry white wine, and turned her attention to the goings on around her. The bar was crowded. Halloween had transformed the place into a theatre of questionable decisions, and equally questionable outfits, especially given the adult-only clientele.

There was a coven of witches at the other end of the counter, jostling to grab the bartender's attention. There was a vampire sitting alone in an alcove beneath a neon sign. There were creatures of all shapes and sizes, making merry on this most inhuman of evenings.

And then there was her, Rebecca, the only one who seemingly hadn't bought into the party spirit. She just sat there, keeping herself to herself, drowning her sorrows in a single glass of wine. She wasn't sure how long it had been--all she had to measure time by was that three quarters of the wine had gone--before her attention turned towards a bit of a commotion behind her.

Someone in an enormous inflatable Stay Puft Marshmallow Man costume had become somewhat wedged in the doorway. There was something ironic about the situation. What did you expect if you chose such a ridiculous outfit? There was something quite enjoyable also. Rebecca watched him--she assumed it was a him given the outlandish outfit--finally succeed.

She smiled.

It was the first genuine smile she'd managed all evening, not a smile of happiness, but at least an acknowledgement of amusement. Then she ordered another glass of wine and a dish of olives. She wasn't trying to get drunk. She simply enjoyed the feeling of warmth which flowed through her, replacing the cold of what had happened earlier. She had chosen the place intentionally. It was off her beaten path, so nobody was likely to know her, and the music was loud enough to make conversation difficult.

That was important.

She didn't want conversation. She wanted anonymity. She wanted to disappear into the crowd until morning, when she could wake up and finally consider what tomorrow might bring. Her phone wasn't playing by the rules, though. It buzzed insistently, trying its best to grab her attention. She glanced quickly at the screen. It was a message from Tom.

'I'm sorry.'

Rebecca stared at the words, and as she did, another message appeared.

'We should talk.'

She turned the phone face down.

"Good idea..."

Rebecca jumped. The voice came from beside her. She had been so far into her own world that it had come as a bit of a surprise.

Rebecca turned.

She hadn't even noticed the man sit down, taking a seat next to her. It was like he had just appeared there. For a moment she simply stared at him, wondering who had the cheek to break into her moment of solitude.

He wasn't wearing a costume. He simply wore a black jacket, black shirt with no tie, and dark trousers. That was the first thing she noticed, the first thing which made him stand out from the crowd.

The second was that he was handsome, annoyingly handsome.

She had him down as being in his mid-forties. He was a little taller than Rebecca, maybe touching six feet, slimly built with short, elegantly styled, almost-black hair. There was a certain ruggedness in his face, with its chiselled jawline, deep-set eyes and just a hint of evening shadow. Everything about him was elegant without being ostentatious.

Then there were those eyes. They were dark, not black, just dark enough that she couldn't immediately tell their colour. He didn't smile, yet at the same time his expression felt somewhat welcoming. He glanced at the phone on the counter.

"I meant... talking tomorrow," he added.

Rebecca picked up her drink and took a gulp. That was the other thing she noticed. She hadn't ever shown him her phone, so how did he know about the message. She put it to the back of her mind, assuming he must have caught a glance at the screen before she had closed it.

"Are you always this nosy?" Rebecca asked.

"Only when people look as though they'd rather be somewhere else," came the reply.

"Then you're going to have a busy evening," Rebecca replied, quickly scanning the room and thinking just how many of these revellers felt rather awkward dressed as they were.

A faint smile touched his mouth.

"Lucian... Lucian Black."

She hesitated. She thought about replying in kind. Instead, she simply smiled back, then turned back towards the bar and her drink.

For a few moments she sat in silence. She knew he was there. She knew he was nothing more than a stranger. That said, she felt almost comfortable in his presence and that should have made her nervous. It didn't, not even when he dropped another question into conversation. The sensible option would have been to politely thank him for asking, then move on. For once in her life, Rebecca ignored sensibility.

"Bad evening?" Lucian asked.

Rebecca laughed softly.

"That's one way of putting it," she replied.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No," came her reply.

"Good," he retorted.

Rebecca glanced at him. For some reason that response both frustrated her and intrigued her in equal measure.

"Good?" she repeated, this time as a question.

Lucian laughed.

"Well... I wasn't particularly looking forward to hearing about it," he answered.

She stared at him again. Then, against her better judgement, she laughed. It was a proper laugh this time, a laugh which seemed to ignore the turmoil of her evening.

Lucian smiled.

"That's better," he added.

"What? What's better?" she asked, not knowing whether to be amused or annoyed.

"That!" he replied, moving his gaze towards her face. "You look much better when you forget you're trying to be miserable."

She shook her head.

She took another gulp at her drink.

"If you must know... boyfriend left me," she announced, wondering why she was confiding in a stranger.

Lucian's expression didn't change.

"Tonight?" he asked.

"Nope... apparently he's been leaving me for months... according to him... it's just tonight that he bothered to tell me," Rebecca explained. "Shit! What am I saying... he didn't have such decency... I'd be with him having dinner right now if I hadn't caught him by accident. "

"Ah... I see," he started to reply before being cut off.

"Don't you dare say it," she interrupted.

"It isn't good," she added, the words sounding almost casual despite the gravitas that should have accompanied them.

"I wasn't going to," he replied.

The music changed. Somewhere behind them, people cheered. Rebecca glanced around the room. Everyone seemed to be having such an extraordinary time. People were dancing, laughing, practically flirting. Nobody seemed to care what tomorrow looked like. And as she sat there, thinking about what she had just said, Rebecca found herself envying them.

"You know... I wish I could do that," she said.

"Do what?" Lucian asked.

"Stop thinking," she replied. "Stop thinking and just enjoy myself."

"And... what's preventing you?" he asked.

Rebecca looked down at her glass. The alcohol had already started to soften the sharp edges of the evening. For the first time since she'd opened her front door, she felt almost detached from what had happened.

"Honestly?" she asked.

"Honestly," Lucian answered.

For a moment, Rebecca considered the question. And, as she did, she realised that she didn't have an answer. If truth be known, nothing was preventing her other than herself. But that alone was the biggest problem.

Did she truly want to be like them?

Did she truly have the courage to be like them?

Did she truly need to be answering him?

"Honestly... the way I feel... I could sell my soul for one perfect night," Rebecca admitted.

She expected Lucian to see the funny side.

She expected him to laugh.

He didn't.

Instead, Lucian looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher. Then he said quietly:

"I can arrange that."

Rebecca blinked.

"Sorry?" she asked.

"I said... I can arrange it... if that's truly what you want," he replied.

She laughed.

"You're serious?" she questioned.

"Completely," came the reply.

"Well, Lucian... you are either incredibly arrogant or completely insane," Rebecca commented.

"Or maybe, both," he responded.

Rebecca shook her head in disbelief. She had almost allowed herself to get sucked in by his charm, and then he comes out with a statement like that. Who did he think he was? Then again, what did he imagine would be the perfect night anyway?

"And... anyway... my idea of perfect might be quite different to yours... so, tempting as it may be, I guess maybe not tonight," Rebecca responded.

She expected the immediate retort, that outburst of male bravado as to how she was making the biggest mistake of her life. It didn't come. Instead, he simply smiled then nodded.

"Of course... I understand..." he replied.

"Everyone's idea of perfect is different... it would never do for us all to want the same, would it?" he added.

And then he went one step further.

"Now... before you say no... why don't I leave you to think about it..." he suggested. "No pressure... no expectation... just the offer of one perfect night."

Rebecca looked stunned, not by what was being said, but by the seriousness in his voice. It was like he actually believed he could fulfil that promise, and that she would even take him up on it.

She turned away.

She took yet another gulp at her drink.

When she turned back, she was alone once more. There was no sign of Lucian. It was just her, a near empty glass of wine, and a small black card.

A small black card?

It was around the size of a business card. It was there on the bar where he had been, seconds earlier. Was it there before? Rebecca didn't remember seeing it.

Why, she didn't know, but Rebecca picked it up. There was nothing written on the front. She turned it over. Instantly, her breath caught. On the reverse was a name, a handwritten name, gold against the black, all in capitals. The letters were elegant and precise. The spelling was more than familiar.

'REBECCA'

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 2

The Invitation

Rebecca should have walked away. She should have ignored the card, thinking of it as nothing more than coincidence. But that was the problem. Was it just coincidence?

She had made a point, at least a mental point, not to give him her name. It wasn't that she feared him. It was just that he was a stranger and strangers needed to earn your trust. So, that was the strangest thing of all. How could her name be written on the back of a card she had never seen before, a card she had assumed he had left there?

And then another thought filled her mind.

Why was it there at all, and what exactly was that card trying to tell her?

She flipped the card over and over, staring at the blackness on one side, then at her name, then at the blackness once more. She should have walked away, that was true. Instead, though, she found herself intrigued. No, perhaps intrigued wasn't quite the right word. There was something about the card, and more particularly about the man who had left it, that she couldn't stop thinking about. It was almost like she had become infatuated with it, or maybe with him.

"Get you another?"

For a moment, Rebecca just sat there. The question brought an odd sense of déjà vu. It had come out of nowhere, but this time it was the bartender rather than that elegant, dark stranger. Still, though, she found herself thinking deeply about her reply. And when it came, it didn't exactly answer the question.

"The guy... did you recognise him?" Rebecca asked.

"Which guy?" the bartender replied.

"You know... the one sat here a minute ago... dark jacket, dark shirt, dark hair... rather..."

Rebecca paused for a second before continuing. She knew what she wanted to say, but it did not sit comfortably to call a stranger attractive, even if he was.

"... enigmatic," she added.

"Oh... him... never seen him before. Assumed he was with you... then he left," came the reply.

"Did you see which way he went?" Rebecca asked.

"Think he's over there... do you know him?" the bartender replied.

Rebecca glanced over in the direction that the bartender had indicated. At first, she couldn't see anything but costumed dancers. She was about to give up when a gap opened between the crowds. Rebecca felt a chill wash through her. There, sitting at a table in the shadows, was a man.

It was him.

She was sure it was him.

It was Lucian Black.

"Not yet," she replied.

The words left Rebecca's lips before she could think them through. She wasn't sure that she truly wanted to know him. At the same time, she knew that she needed to know why he was there and what he wanted of her.

Moments later, it was Rebecca's turn to appear out of nowhere. She stood at the side of his table. She looked down at Lucian.

"Lucian," she announced.

"Rebecca..." he replied. "Please... have a seat."

Rebecca considered sitting but didn't. For some reason, she felt more powerful standing there.

"How?" she asked, the question direct but not confrontational.

"How what?" came the reply.

"How this," she answered, placing the black card down on the table, name side uppermost.

Lucian didn't even look at the card. His gaze was solely on Rebecca. There was something a little unsettling in his calmness.

"I didn't tell you my name," she continued. "So, if I didn't tell you, how come you know it?"

He smiled. It wasn't exactly a reassuring smile. It was the smile of someone who had just been asked a question they knew would be coming.

"That's the interesting part," he replied, the statement seeming to be intentionally vague.

Rebecca looked down at the card again as it lay there on the table. The music seemed suddenly farther away. She glanced again at Lucian, a different question on her mind as she struggled to find a rationale as to why he should know her name, and why it should have been written on that card.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Lucian leaned closer, not enough to touch her, just enough that she could hear him clearly over the background hubbub.

"Someone offering you exactly what you asked for..." he replied, once more beckoning for Rebecca to take a seat.

Rebecca should have left. Every sensible instinct she'd spent thirty-two years cultivating told her to walk straight out of the bar. Instead, and despite the alarm bells ringing somewhere deep in her conscience, she did just what had been suggested of her. She took a seat opposite Lucian. And, as she did, from somewhere beneath the music, beneath the hubbub of a Halloween celebration, she thought she heard Lucian whisper.

'One perfect night, Rebecca.'

The words arrived with perfect clarity as if they had been carefully placed directly into her head. There was no way she should have been hearing what he said, not that quietly and not with the amount of background noise in the bar, but she did, every single word.

Rebecca stared at Lucian, a quizzical look on her face.

He smiled.

'And no consequences.'

The words arrived with perfect clarity again, as though they had been spoken directly beside her. Yet the music was still loud. The partygoers were still shouting and laughing. There was no way she should have heard him.

Rebecca stared at Lucian.

He smiled.

She looked at his mouth.

He hadn't moved his lips, not even the slightest twitch.

For a moment, Rebecca simply stared at him, trying to make sense of what had happened. Then another thought occurred to her. Not who was he? Something far more fundamental.

"Wh... what are you?" she asked.

Again, he smiled. It was a warm, friendly smile, devoid of any sense of threat. At the same time though it wasn't as comfortable as it might have been. Rebecca's heart was racing. Her mind was busily concocting every possible answer to that question, from the sublime to the ridiculous. And, before she knew it, she was down to two plausible outcomes. He was either a ventriloquist, an incredibly good one at that, or--

The second option didn't bear thinking about.

"All in good time," Lucian replied, this time making a point to talk to Rebecca.

"Maybe I can get you a drink first," he added.

"No... no... I'm fine," Rebecca replied, unsure as to whether she believed what she was saying.

"Good," came a rather surprising reply.

"Good! Good!" Rebecca responded. "First you know my name when I haven't told you it... and then you put words in my head without saying anything... how can you call that good?"

Lucian laughed.

"I'm sorry, Rebecca... I meant it was good that you didn't want another drink," he replied. "I think it will help."

"Help?" Rebecca asked. "Help with what?"

"Help with understanding... you deserve the truth... but trust me... sometimes the truth doesn't sit comfortably... at least, not at first," he replied.

"You're staring at me," he added a couple of minutes later, feeling the metaphorical burn of Rebecca's gaze as she studied him.

"I'm trying to work out whether you're joking," she replied.

"Trust me... I'm not," Lucian confirmed.

Once more, Rebecca just stared at Lucian. He had said it so calmly that she couldn't decide whether he was being deliberately provocative or simply incapable of understanding how strange the conversation had become.

"I'm just telling you that if you're going to make an important decision, I'd prefer you to make it when sober," he added.

Rebecca's breath caught. She looked at him carefully. She tried to comprehend what had just been said, or rather why he had the incredulity to think she would be making any sort of decision in the first place. Yet, still, she came out with the obvious question.

"Important decision?" she asked.

"Whether you want the night you asked for," he answered, his voice frustratingly calm.

She reached for the card on the table. She turned it over again, a couple of times. It was completely black except for her name. Yet, still, it carried such an importance, as if it was somehow the ticket to what he was offering. And the more she stared at her own name, written in those neat gold capitals, the more she found herself wanting to know more.

"Suppose I say yes?" she asked.

"Then I'll explain the terms," he replied.

"And if I say no?" she asked.

"You go home," he replied.

"That's it?" she asked, not really believing what had been said.

"That's it... nothing more," he confirmed.

She searched his face for some hidden catch. She couldn't see one. His expression looked genuine, as if this was just another normal conversation. That bothered her. There should have been a catch. There needed to be a catch.

A man like this didn't simply sit beside a woman who had just been dumped, offer her everything she wanted and then politely accept rejection. He should have been pushy, or sleazy, or drunk, or at least visibly interested in getting something from her. Instead, Lucian seemed almost detached from the outcome. It was, and this made her feel quite uncomfortable, as if he already knew what she would choose.

For several minutes neither of them spoke.

By now, the party was at full tilt. The bar was heaving. A woman dressed as Morticia Addams laughed loudly, her voice piercing even the loudest music. A drunken werewolf stumbled through the crowd, apologising to everybody and nobody. Somewhere, in the background, the unmistakable sound of The Monster Mash was playing out across the dancefloor.

And yet, Rebecca simply sat there, as if in her own oasis of calm amongst the hubbub.

She was trying her best to comprehend what he had said, to read between the lines, to understand quite what it meant. A perfect night? What exactly was a perfect night, and was it to be her night or his night? It seemed just too good to be true, and that meant it probably was. Still, though, she couldn't get the idea out of her mind.

Rebecca looked at Lucian again.

"So... tell me again," she asked.

Lucian's expression changed. For a moment, he became serious. He reached for the card on the table and turned it over in his fingers, showing Rebecca first the black side and then the side with her name, and then the blackness once more. Finally, he placed it down again, black side up. And then he started to speak again, his voice calm and controlled, each word seeming perfectly clear against the background noise.

"One night..." Lucian started.

"One perfect night..." he continued.

"Your perfect night... and I promise you... no consequences..." he added.

Rebecca was transfixed. His tone was almost hypnotic. He wasn't doing anything, yet she found herself suddenly hanging on to his every word. It was nothing that she hadn't heard before, but this time it seemed to carry even more weight.

Only a couple of hours earlier, she had discovered that the man she'd shared her life with had been lying to her. Now she was sitting beside a stranger who was apparently offering her a perfect night, her perfect night. And somehow this stranger felt more honest than Tom had in months.

It should have made her uncomfortable.

It didn't.

She continued to gaze at Lucian.

"How do I know this isn't some elaborate trick?" she asked.

"You don't."

"How do I know you're not going to rob me?" she asked.

"You don't."

"Kidnap me?" she asked.

"You don't."

"Kill me?" she asked.

Lucian considered it for a minute.

"No," he replied. "Not my style."

"I told you... all I am offering is one perfect night... and if you don't believe me, turn the card over... and read for yourself," he continued.

Suddenly, Rebecca felt nervous. She was shaking as she reached for the card and turned it over. It was like she knew something was going to happen, but not what it was. Imagine her surprise when the other side simply contained her name, just as before.

"B... but..." she began.

And then, suddenly, she went quiet. Rebecca held her breath. She simply stared at the card, unable to believe just what she was seeing. Beneath her name, words began to appear, slowly at first. In the same gold script, the ink seemed to flow across the card.

'ONE PERFECT NIGHT'

'NO CONSEQUENCES'

Then, beneath them, a final line appeared.

'YOUR CHOICE'

Rebecca simply stared at the card, her mouth open ever so slightly. She had to tell herself to breathe such was the impact of what had just happened. Until now, she had a possible explanation for everything he had said or done, albeit some were, she had to admit, a little on the implausible side. Now, though, she was struggling for any meaningful rationale.

Words just didn't write themselves, so either this was one hell of a magic trick, or something other-worldly had just happened. And, this time, she wasn't quite buying that it was magic, at least not mortal magic.

Rebecca should have been terrified.

Instead, a strange excitement moved through her. For the first time all evening, she felt something that wasn't anger or humiliation. Nor was it confusion or frustration. What she felt could only be described as anticipation, anticipation tinged with just a hint of nervous fear.

"Y... you're... a..." Rebecca began, struggling to find exactly the word she needed.

Lucian simply smiled.

"Of course, I am... but you already knew that... didn't you, Rebecca?" he replied.

Rebecca continued to stare, her gaze now on Lucian rather than the card. She didn't want to acknowledge it, but his admission hadn't been a total surprise. That said, it still took some processing. Her mind was spinning, trying to compute just what it meant, and just what she wanted to do about it...

... or rather about him.

... or actually about his invite.

And when, finally, she gathered her thoughts, the response was fairly simple.

"Yes," she whispered.

Lucian nodded. He understood, yet he still made sure to ask.

"Yes, what... Rebecca?" Lucian replied.

"I need you to say it," he added.

Rebecca looked down at the table. She reached out and picked up the card. For a second or two she rotated it between her fingers, before finally gazing at the written side, at her name and at the invitation.

Rebecca smiled.

"Yes, Lucian... yes, I accept," she replied.

For a moment there was silence. Neither Rebecca nor Lucian said a word. It was like both were allowing what had been said to truly sink in. In the end it was Rebecca who broke the silence.

"You said you would tell me the terms," she commented.

"And I will," came the reply, "but not here... somewhere quieter... somewhere more private."

Lucian stood.

He held out his hand, not touching her, but simply offering it.

Rebecca looked first at his hand, then at him. She thought about Tom. She thought about her house. She thought about what had happened there that evening. And then... then... she thought about herself, about every sensible decision she had made in the past, and finally the nonsensical decision she had just taken. Her heart was pounding. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Rebecca stood.

She put her hand in Lucian's.

His fingers closed gently around hers.

"Shall we?" he asked.

They walked through the crowded bar towards the door. It was dark outside, with only artificial light providing any sort of guidance. It was quiet in comparison to the party they were leaving behind, almost deafeningly quiet. Rebecca looked at the man beside her, then took the couple of steps out onto the pavement.

She still didn't know who or what Lucian was.

She only knew one thing.

He wasn't exactly human.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 3

Somewhere Quieter

The night air felt colder than Rebecca had expected.

She noticed it almost immediately after leaving the bar. Even with her coat on and those thick opaque tights, she could feel the chill against her skin. Whether it was the cold or whether it was her nerves, that was up for debate, but for sure it felt so different leaving the buzz of the party behind and stepping out onto a deserted street.

Suddenly, the world seemed to have expanded around them, giving them space, allowing them free passage to wherever they were heading. But that was the question. Rebecca had no idea where they were heading.

All he had said was somewhere quieter.

Never had he told her exactly where, and never had she asked.

She had simply taken his hand and allowed herself to be led.

The pavement glistened beneath the streetlights, pools of golden light illuminating otherwise dark streets. A car drove past them, sending a tiny spray of water up onto the pavement, never quite far enough to pose any real risk.

Somewhere above there was the sound of a plane.

Rebecca glanced upwards. She never caught sight of the plane. What she did catch sight of was something different, something even more impactful. The clouds moved slowly across the sky, parting as they did. And from behind them had emerged the moon, almost perfectly round, so very close to being full.

For a moment she wondered whether that was significant. Then she caught herself. She had already accepted that the man walking beside her wasn't exactly human. Looking for additional signs, even coincidental ones, seemed rather pointless. After all, the decision had been hers. Rebecca hadn't been forced or even coerced into walking outside with him.

Lucian continued at an unhurried pace. By now, he had his hands in the pockets of his dark jacket. He didn't seem particularly concerned about where they were going, or how long it might take to get there. That struck Rebecca as rather odd given that she had just agreed to follow him somewhere more private so he could explain the terms of whatever it was she might just have agreed to. She had imagined he would be eager to get that done, to have her understand just how foolish she had been. He didn't seem bothered at all.

She glanced at Lucian.

"Where are we going?" Rebecca asked.

"I told you... somewhere quieter," he replied.

"That's not really an answer," she commented.

"No," he agreed. "It isn't."

Rebecca smiled.

"You do that deliberately, don't you?" she asked.

"Do what?" he answered with a question of his own.

"Answer questions without actually answering them," she clarified.

"Sometimes."

"And the rest of the time?" she asked.

"I answer them honestly."

She looked at him again. There was something unsettling about that response, not because it sounded threatening. It didn't, quite the opposite. Lucian sounded completely sincere. Still though, she wasn't sure if he had just avoided answering or had answered truthfully, and it was that point that didn't sit comfortably.

They walked for a few minutes more before he turned down a smaller street. The city still surrounded them, but at a distance now. The sound of bars and parties had dimmed into silence. There was no more traffic kicking up the spray. Even people had now become few and far between. And as for the light, other than the odd glow from a window, the street was illuminated only by the silvery sheen of the moon.

Suddenly, Rebecca felt a chill wash over her.

It was the sort of place you found in horror films. The kind of street you watched them walk down in the movies, knowing something bad was about to happen. Okay, so this was her city and nothing bad ever happened, yet still she couldn't get the idea out of her mind.

It was dark.

The street was empty.

She was, in effect, all on her own.

Here Rebecca was, with a stranger, following him to god knows where. Was she out of her mind? But all the time her conscience told her something different. Lucian wasn't a murderer, or at least that was what she told herself. He was simply a stranger, a non-human stranger. That should have scared the shit out of her, yet she felt strangely safer with him than she should ever have done. She had put her trust in him and, so far, he had been true to what he had said, either that or he was rather good at enticing her like a moth to a flame, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to spring his surprise.

A couple of minutes later, Lucian stopped.

Rebecca looked up.

At first, she wasn't sure what she was looking at. There was a door set into the narrow space between two buildings. It wasn't an entrance to a shop, or a house, or even a passageway she recognised. It was just a door, squeezed into the gap as though the buildings had been constructed around it and then it had been forgotten.

It was tall and painted black, with no number, sign, or name to identify what lay beyond it. There was no handle on the outside that she could see, only a lock, a narrow brass letter plate and a knocker.

The door stood slightly open. A thin line of warm light showed through the gap. She hadn't noticed it when they first walked down the street, which seemed a bit strange. Surely the light would have stood out against the darkness around them.

Rebecca frowned.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Here," Lucian replied.

She glanced at him.

"I can see that... but where is here?" she asked again.

He looked towards the door.

"Can't you see?"

Rebecca turned back towards the door. For a moment, she had the peculiar impression that the gap between the buildings had become wider, not much, just enough to accommodate the door more comfortably, as if it belonged there rather than being squeezed in. Then the feeling passed. The door remained where it was, slightly open, the light beyond it waiting patiently.

"What's inside?" she asked.

"Somewhere quieter."

"You really are determined to avoid answering, aren't you?" she asked.

"Not at all," came the reply, "you asked and I told you the honest answer."

Rebecca shrugged. Sometimes, she found herself a little frustrated by the vagueness of his responses. At the same time though, she had to admit, he did it in the most charming of ways.

Rebecca glanced at the entrance again. There was no sound from within, no voices, no movement, nothing to suggest that anyone lived there, worked there, or had any reason to be waiting behind it. And yet the door had been left open. It was, and this was a bit discomforting, as though somebody had known they were coming, or maybe was ready to welcome them inside.

"Here?" she asked.

"Would you prefer somewhere else?" he replied, seemingly giving her a choice.

She hesitated.

"No... no... just surprised, but it is fine," she replied.

Lucian nodded as though that was all he needed to hear, or maybe, that was all he expected to hear. He pushed the door open a little further and stepped inside.

Rebecca followed.

The difference between the street and the interior was immediate. The cold disappeared, replaced by a comfortable warmth that seemed to engulf her almost as soon as she crossed the threshold. Without hesitation, she removed her coat and carried it. For a moment, she stood there taking in her surroundings.

Surroundings?

They were basic to say the least. If the door had seemed squeezed in between buildings, so was the property itself. It was an entrance of some sort, but not the most welcoming and not the most spacious. There was a hallway, the oak panelling on the walls making it seem even smaller than it actually was, a small room ahead of them, and a narrow staircase disappearing upwards.

Rebecca looked back at Lucian.

"What is this place and why was the door open?" she whispered, keeping her voice low just in case there was somebody else inside.

"It is whatever or wherever you want it to be," he replied.

"Lucian... tell me... why have you brought me here?" Rebecca responded.

"All in good time," he replied, once more seeming to evade answering the question.

Rebecca smiled, but this time it was a bit of a nonplussed type of smile.

"You know... you can be very annoying at times," she added.

"Only at times?" he responded, already heading towards the staircase.

He said it so calmly that Rebecca laughed, and this time the laughter came from deep inside. The sound seemed to surprise her. She hadn't expected to laugh tonight, not after Tom, not after discovering that the man she had trusted had been having an affair for months. And, for certain, she hadn't expected to be laughing having followed a stranger into some nondescript building because she had apparently decided that selling her soul for a perfect night was a reasonable response to a bad evening.

Yet here she was... laughing.

Lucian paused. He glanced back and looked at her for a moment. Something in his expression softened.

"Better?" he asked.

Rebecca stopped smiling.

"What?" she replied.

"I mean... you looked so frightened when we walked in here... as if... as if you feared I was going to do something... well... inhumane," he commented.

For a moment, Rebecca paused. There was something in what he had said, something which seemed reminiscent of earlier in the evening. At first, she struggled to put her finger on what it was, and then it dawned on her. It wasn't at all what he had said. It was the fact that he had said it without any sort of provocation.

Back in the bar it was all about the messages on her phone, messages she had never shown him. Now, though, it was about the thought that he might be up to no good. She hadn't exactly said that either, but it had been there, in the back of her mind as they walked down that final, lonely, dark street. And, as she stood there, staring back at Lucian, she started to consider whether he had the ability to read minds.

"Yes, I can," he replied, "and no, I wasn't going to do anything like that... but you'll have to trust me on that one."

For a moment, Rebecca was shocked. She had almost worked it out for herself but hearing him say it felt so different. And with the answer came a sudden realisation. No matter how much she tried, it was going to be almost impossible to keep anything from him. Or was it? Maybe he was just trying it on, trying to make her think he had superpowers.

'So, which way now?' Rebecca thought to herself, glancing around the hallway, all the time waiting to see if he took the bait.

"Come on... let's go upstairs," Lucian replied to the unspoken question.

Rebecca stared at him for a moment longer.

"You're going to have to stop doing that," she commented.

"Doing what?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Answering questions I haven't asked," she found herself answering.

Lucian smiled.

"I'll try... now, are you coming, or are you going to stand there all night... I thought you wanted to know the terms," he replied, setting off up the stairs.

She followed him.

The staircase was narrower than Rebecca had expected, with dark wooden banisters, the wood having the appearance of being polished smooth with age. There were no carpets, only wooden steps which she expected to squeak with every step. They didn't. Even in her low heels, they made almost no sound beneath her feet.

As they climbed, Rebecca glanced back towards the entrance. The front door was still visible below. For some reason, that reassured her. She could leave. Nothing was stopping her, and that thought seemed important. Then a different thought filled her mind. If she didn't know better, it was closed. She didn't close it, and she didn't remember Lucian closing it. She hadn't even heard it close which ruled out a gust of wind.

So, if neither of them had closed it, who had?

Or maybe the question should have been, what had?

Lucian reached the top of the stairs and turned along a short corridor.

Rebecca arrived seconds later. She stopped. She stared. She glanced back downstairs. There was something she couldn't quite explain. The upper floor seemed bigger, much bigger. The landing was larger. There were four doors, two on each side, all of them closed. At the far end of the corridor was another, this one slightly wider and painted the same deep black as the one they had first entered, a door outside which Lucian was already standing.

He opened it.

Quickly, slightly unnerved by this inexplicable building, Rebecca dashed after him and stepped inside. Once more, she stopped. What was she expecting, a bedroom? It wasn't.

It was more like a sitting room, a plush, if old-fashioned, sitting room.

The floor was covered in deep burgundy carpet, soft under her feet. There was a fireplace, surrounded by dark stone, although there was no fire. A small table stood near the window, beside two comfortable-looking chairs. There was a cabinet against one wall containing glasses and several bottles. A narrow bookcase occupied another. It felt like somebody's private study.

"Is this your house?" Rebecca asked.

"No."

"Do you own it?" Rebecca asked.

"No."

"Do you work here?" Rebecca asked.

"No."

Rebecca looked at him.

"Then how do you have a room upstairs?" she asked, a little confused.

"I asked," he answered.

"You asked?" Rebecca responded.

"Of course... did they never tell you, if you never ask, you never get?" he replied. "Now, Rebecca... please do take a seat."

Rebecca sighed. She tried not to show her frustration, nor her confusion, not even in her thoughts. She put her coat over the back of one of the chairs and sat down.

Lucian remained standing for a moment before moving towards the cabinet.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked.

She looked at him.

"Water?" she replied, still feeling that she needed to keep her wits about her.

He poured her a glass of water, and something stronger for himself. He placed both glasses on the table, then sat opposite Rebecca. For a few moments they simply looked at each other. He had promised somewhere quieter and this surely lived up to the billing. It was silent, not even a sound creeping in from outside.

Rebecca took a sip of water.

She swallowed hard.

"So, are you going to explain this now?" she asked.

"Yes," came the simplest of replies.

Rebecca waited.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 4

The Truth

Lucian folded his hands loosely in front of him.

"You asked for one perfect night," he started.

Rebecca nodded.

"You even said you would sell your soul for it," he continued.

Rebecca nodded again.

"I was just being melodramatic," she replied.

He smiled. He continued as though she hadn't spoken.

"I told you I could give it to you... then you accepted my invitation... and now you want to know the terms of the bargain," he added.

Suddenly Rebecca's mouth went dry. She grabbed her water and took a gulp, but it didn't seem to help. It was one word which had done it, one single word, and now she couldn't get the thought out of her mind. Yes, she had accepted the invitation, and yes, she knew there would be terms. The moment he had said the word bargain, though, made it somewhat final. She had voluntarily entered into a deal with a demon, and for all she now knew, the other side of that deal might actually be that she was giving him her soul.

"Don't worry, Rebecca... the bargain is simple," he continued, sensing the change in her demeanour.

Rebecca waited.

"One night... until dawn... you can have whatever you want... anything... simply your choice" he explained.

"And then?" she asked, wondering if this was when he came clean and explained just how foolish she had been.

"Then... then..." he started.

As if to increase the tension just a little, he reached for his glass and took a sip of his drink.

Lucian smiled.

"Then... the bargain ends," he finished.

Rebecca frowned. What he had said should have been clear, but suddenly it wasn't. The 'bargain ends' was fine, but what exactly happened when the bargain ended. Somehow, she needed to know.

"Just like that?" she asked.

"Just like that."

"What happens to me then?" she asked.

"You go home."

"And everything is back to normal?" she asked.

"Everything is exactly as it was."

"You mean... I don't actually sell my soul to you?" she asked.

Lucian laughed.

It wasn't a cruel laugh, nor did it contain the theatrical amusement Rebecca might have expected from someone who had just been accused of taking a person's soul. It was quiet and genuine, almost affectionate. That somehow made her more uncomfortable.

"What?" she asked.

"You really thought that was what I wanted?" he responded.

"You said you could arrange one perfect night after I told you I could sell my soul for it," she explained.

"Yes... but really... I may be a demon, Rebecca, but really... you think, after offering you the perfect night, I'd be wanting to take your soul at the same time... that wouldn't exactly be the perfect night, would it?" he replied.

"You're going to have to do better than that," she said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you've brought me into a strange building through a door that may or may not have existed five minutes ago, you've admitted you can read my thoughts, and now you're telling me that the bargain I thought I was making isn't quite the bargain I thought I was making," she admitted, suddenly feeling that she had somehow talked herself into something she never properly understood.

Lucian took another sip of his drink.

"When you put it like that, it does sound rather complicated," he admitted.

"It is complicated," she replied.

"No... it is simply unfamiliar."

Rebecca folded her arms.

"Then... go on... make it familiar," she responded, a firmness in her voice.

Lucian placed his glass on the table.

"Look... the bargain is not for your soul, Rebecca. If I wanted your soul, believe me, I could have taken it without the need for any of this," he replied.

"Then what is it for?" she asked.

"One night."

"You already said that," she commented.

"One perfect night."

"You said that as well," she commented.

"And I meant it, Rebecca... just look at the card... it says the same," he replied.

The card? Rebecca had almost forgotten about the card. She had picked it up when they left the bar but hadn't given it another thought since then. Quickly, she rummaged in her coat pocket, all the time hoping it hadn't fallen out as they walked through the streets. Much to her relief, it was still there. For a moment she held it there, turning the card over in her fingers, glancing first at the blackness and then at her name and, with it, the invitation.

Rebecca wrapped her fingers around the card and held it close.

Despite everything she was feeling, the inexplicable events and the uncertainty about the bargain, she found herself smiling.

"And what's in it for you?" she asked.

He looked at her for a moment, considering both what he wanted to say and what he thought she needed to hear.

"That depends," he replied, once again being vague in his response.

"On what?" she asked.

"On you."

Rebecca frowned.

"That doesn't answer the question," she commented.

"It answers it honestly."

Rebecca finished her water. She leaned back in her chair. She locked her eyes on his.

"You know... you're very good at making honesty sound suspicious," she commented, all the time looking for some sort of reaction, some giveaway as to whether he was indeed being honest.

"Perhaps because you're accustomed to people using it badly," he responded, his voice just as calm and collected as ever.

The remark landed more heavily than Rebecca had expected. Tom had told her he loved her. Tom had told her he missed her. Tom had told her that everything was fine. And all the while, he had been giving pieces of himself to someone else.

Rebecca looked down at her empty glass.

"Fine," she said. "Let's start again... tell me once more what it is I have agreed to."

Lucian took a drink, composed himself, and repeated the terms.

"One night... until dawn... you can do whatever you want, go wherever you want, see whoever you want," he started.

"Want whoever I want?" she asked, surprised at the latter.

"Yes."

The answer was immediate, and Rebecca felt something shift inside her.

"With no consequences?" she asked.

"No consequences."

"And after dawn?" she asked.

"The bargain ends."

"And I go home?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Back to my ordinary life... with everything exactly as it was?" she asked.

"You return to your life as it is now. Nothing will be taken from you, rewritten or demanded in payment. Everything you had will still be yours to keep, assuming it still matters," he replied.

She looked up sharply. The last reply had suddenly grabbed her attention.

"Matters? That's a strange qualification," she commented, her gaze now fixed on his face.

"Is it?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Yes, it is."

"Then perhaps you should ask me what I mean," he commented.

Rebecca sighed.

"What do you mean?" she asked, rather despairingly.

Lucian smiled faintly.

"I mean that I won't alter your life to suit the bargain. Your home remains your home. Your work remains your work. Your memories remain your memories. Your relationships remain your relationships. Your Tom remains your Tom," he seemed to take pleasure in explaining.

Rebecca gave a humourless laugh.

"And what if I don't want Tom to remain Tom anymore?" she asked.

"Then, that's purely your choice, Rebecca. As I said, I won't alter anything to suit the bargain, but, if you decide to alter something because of or after the bargain, then of course... that is your decision to make... and the consequences of those decisions will be yours to bear," he answered.

For a moment, she considered everything he had said.

It sounded simple, too simple.

There had to be something else.

"What is the catch?" she asked.

Lucian's expression changed very slightly. There it was, the part he had been waiting to explain, the part she really needed to understand.

"Consider it a condition rather than a catch," he replied. "It's quite simple. Whenever I ask you a question, you must tell me the truth... every time... no exceptions."

Rebecca blinked.

"That's it?" she asked, surprised by the simplicity of his request.

"That's it," he replied. "Nothing more."

She laughed.

"That's easy," she commented.

"Trust me... it isn't," he replied.

"Why not?" she asked, rather confused.

"Because people are rarely honest when the truth makes them uncomfortable. That's... what do you call it... human nature?" he replied.

"Well, I can handle uncomfortable," she responded immediately.

"I wonder... can you?"

She looked at him. She thought about it for a minute. Of course she could tell the truth. Of course she could handle uncomfortable. Why, exactly, did he need to ask? Even so, Rebecca probed again, looking to see if there was an oversight in the bargain.

"Can I refuse to answer?" she asked.

"Of course."

Rebecca smiled. There it was. He had given her an escape clause.

"So, I don't have to tell you everything?" she asked.

"No."

"And if I refuse, I haven't broken the bargain?" she asked.

"You may refuse to answer. You may keep something private. But you must tell me honestly that you are refusing to answer," he replied.

She considered that. These terms were becoming just a little more complex. It was like the small print on a contract. The devil was always in the detail.

"What happens if I lie?" she asked.

"The bargain ends," he replied, quite bluntly.

"Immediately?" she asked.

"Immediately."

"And then?" she asked.

"You go home."

"That's all?" she asked.

"That's all."

Rebecca looked at him for a long moment.

"And if I tell you the truth?" she asked.

"Then the bargain continues," he confirmed, "all the way until dawn... whatever you want... wherever you want... with whoever you want."

Rebecca leaned back, trying to absorb the simplicity of it. One night, her choice, no consequences. And all she had to do was tell the truth. She looked down at her hands and the card she was clenching.

"Yes," she replied.

"Yes, what?" he asked.

"Yes, I accept... of course, I accept," she answered.

"To be honest, it doesn't sound much like a bargain. It sounds like you're giving me something for nothing," she added, looking up and smiling at him.

Lucian's gaze remained fixed on Rebecca.

"Perhaps I am," he replied.

"Why?" she asked.

Lucian didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he asked a different question.

"What do you want, Rebecca?"

Rebecca frowned.

"That's not what I asked," she commented. "And now you're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Changing the subject," she confirmed.

"Oh, but I'm not changing the subject."

Lucian leaned forward slightly.

"What do you want, Rebecca?" he repeated.

The question should have been easy. She had already answered it. She wanted one perfect night, one night of freedom, a chance to forget Tom, a chance to feel wanted, a chance to stop being sensible for once. But beneath all those answers was something she hadn't yet allowed herself to accept.

She opened her mouth.

"I don't know," she replied.

Lucian watched her, then, very quietly, he uttered something quite surprising.

"That's your first lie!"

Rebecca felt the words before she understood them. Her fingers closed around the black card. It felt warm, unusually warm. It wasn't the feeling she would have imagined just by holding it. The warmth seemed to come from within the card itself, spreading beneath the surface and into her palm.

She looked down.

She opened her hand slowly.

The gold lettering on the written side of the card seemed brighter than before, brighter and warmer. She stared at the card, reading each and every word.

'ONE PERFECT NIGHT'

'NO CONSEQUENCES'

'YOUR CHOICE'

And then, as she read, she noticed it. The change was small, just a single word. Instead of saying YOUR CHOICE, the card now read YOUR TRUTH.

"What is happening?" Rebecca asked.

Lucian glanced at the card.

"You already accepted the invitation back in the bar... but the bargain itself could not begin until you understood its terms and agreed to them, which you have now done... so, now it is waiting," he replied.

"For what?" she asked.

"For your truthful answer," he replied.

Rebecca swallowed. She had thought the frightening part would be agreeing to a supernatural bargain. She was beginning to suspect that the frightening part would be revealing what she truly wanted.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 5

A Safe Choice

Rebecca stared at the card.

The lettering had returned to its original form. The final line once again read YOUR CHOICE, as though the brief transformation had never happened. She turned it over, then back again.

"Is it going to change again?" she asked.

"That depends," came the half-expected answer.

"On me?" she asked.

"Usually," he replied.

Rebecca nodded. The answer wasn't exactly as clear as it could have been, but she got the message. Whatever happened tonight was more than likely down to her. She wasn't sure if she felt comfortable about that, but she had agreed and that meant she had better think carefully about what it was she truly wanted.

She placed the card carefully on the table between them, written side upwards. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room seemed quieter than ever, as if the house itself was waiting for her decision. Somewhere beyond the closed door, she thought she heard a faint creak, maybe a sign of movement and the distant sound of whispered voices.

She glanced towards the door.

"Are there other people here?" she asked.

"No."

"Then what did I hear?" she asked.

"Probably the house."

Rebecca looked back at Lucian.

"You're being serious... the house makes noises?" she asked.

"Occasionally... when it feels the need to," he replied.

"Surely your house makes noises too?" he added.

Rebecca shook her head. She narrowed her eyes a little.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you, Lucian," she replied, a hint of scepticism in her comment.

"A little."

It was the first time Lucian had openly admitted to enjoying anything about their conversation. There was no arrogance in it, only a quiet amusement that made him seem less remote. Rebecca found herself smiling despite her unease.

Then the smile faded.

"What happens if I don't know what I want?" she asked.

"You will know," he responded.

"Close your eyes," he said. "Stop trying to find the answer. Let yourself think about what you would do if you didn't have to justify it."

Rebecca looked down at the card again. The words were simple.

One perfect night. No consequences. Your choice.

It was difficult to believe that such a thing could be real. It was even more difficult to believe that she had accepted the bargain. And now she was sitting in a strange room with a demon, discussing what she really wanted. She should have been frightened. From the way her heart was pounding, perhaps she was. But beneath the fear was something else, a restless curiosity, a sense that, for once, the world had opened a door rather than closed one and it was down to her to make the most of that opportunity.

She closed her eyes and, as best she could, allowed her mind to drift. At first all she saw was darkness. Very soon though the darkness morphed into images...

... her house.

... her Tom.

... the bar.

... the Halloween Party.

... the inexplicable black door.

... the black card... the words... YOUR CHOICE changing to YOUR TRUTH then back again.

And as she navigated the story of what had been a most unexpected evening, a single thought came to her. No, it wasn't quite a thought. It was something deeper, more instinctive, more of a need, a typically human need.

That was it.

That was what she wanted.

She opened her eyes. She picked up the card and rubbed her thumb across its edge. Her gaze was transfixed, staring down at the words on the card, or more so at the last word, at the word CHOICE. And as she did, so her mouth went dry once more. She swallowed hard, then uttered her decision.

"I want dinner," Rebecca said.

Once more she felt the card start to warm against her hand. The words glowed again. Rebecca held her breath, half expecting to see the word change once more. This time, it didn't. The card simply returned to normal as if, this time, her ask had been accepted.

Rebecca stared back up towards Lucian.

She smiled.

"That's it?" he asked.

"What do you mean, that's it?" she questioned.

"You have been given an entire night, Rebecca. You can go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. And your first request is dinner?" he asked.

"I'm hungry," she replied.

"And I originally had plans for dinner tonight," she added.

"With Tom?" Lucian asked.

Rebecca said nothing.

She immediately regretted mentioning anything to do with him. And now, just hearing his name seemed to bring the rest of the evening rushing back with it.

The laptop on the table.

The two wine glasses.

The lipstick on the rim of the glass.

The lies.

She did not want Tom to be part of this night. She didn't want him to be part of her perfect evening at all. And certainly, she did not want every decision she made to be measured against him and the fact that he had ruined the evening she had originally planned. This was her choice, not his.

"I don't want to think about him," she responded.

"Then don't," he commented.

"Can you arrange that?" she asked, suddenly hopeful.

"No," he replied, quite bluntly.

She looked at him sharply.

"I thought the whole point was no consequences," she commented.

"No consequences does not mean no memories," he replied.

"Then what does it mean?" she asked, curious.

"It means that you are free to make your choices without being punished for them," he replied. "The choices will not alter your life, but the memories will remain, just the same as those from before this evening."

Rebecca considered what had been said.

"And if I choose badly?" she asked.

"Then, that is still your choice."

She gave him a dry smile.

"You know... you really know how to make freedom sound dangerous," she responded.

"It often is," he replied, quite nonchalantly.

There was something in the way he said it that made her look at him more closely. For the first time, she wondered whether Lucian had ever wanted something he could not have. Had he ever made a choice that had changed him? Had he ever needed to make such a choice anyway? But he had asked her to choose, and she was going to stand by that choice, good or bad.

"Dinner," she repeated.

"Somewhere beautiful... somewhere I would never normally go," she added.

"Do you have somewhere in mind?" he asked.

"No," she replied.

"Then what sort of place would you like?" he asked.

Rebecca thought about it. She could have named an expensive restaurant in the city, one she had heard of, one with a waiting list and a reputation for being impossible to book. She could have asked for a private dining room, champagne and a menu created especially for her. Instead, another thought came to her.

"I want to eat something I've never had before," she responded.

Lucian's expression shifted, almost imperceptibly.

"What?" he asked, again never trying to steer the decision away from Rebecca.

She thought for a minute then came out with something quite ridiculous, for her, at least.

"Japanese food," she answered.

"Japanese food? Have you never eaten it?" he asked, seemingly curious.

"Not properly," she replied. "I've had supermarket sushi... but I imagine that's not quite the same thing."

"Why Japanese food?" he asked.

Rebecca shrugged.

"I don't know... it sounds... well... exotic," she replied.

"Exotic?" he asked, his curiosity morphing into something more.

"Don't make fun of me," she commented.

She picked up the card and held it out towards him.

"Can you do it?" she asked.

Lucian did not take the card. He merely looked at it, and then at Rebecca. It went without saying that he could do it. He could do much more than dinner, not that he was going to sway her choice. After all, this was her perfect evening not his, even if a Japanese restaurant was a little less indulgent than he had expected. But, at the same time, he had promised, and if this was what Rebecca wanted, then he was going to deliver on that promise.

"Close your eyes and take my hand," he whispered, his voice soft and low.

Rebecca stared at him.

"Why?"

"You asked for dinner," he replied. "You asked for somewhere you have never been, and I was going to take you there."

"What... with my eyes closed?" she asked, confused.

Lucian smiled.

"Would you prefer to walk?" he asked.

She looked towards the door.

"How far is it?" she asked.

"That depends on where you let me take you," he replied.

"Can you give me an actual answer?" she asked, becoming just a little frustrated at the way he didn't quite answer any question, at least not clearly.

"Yes."

"Go on then, tell me."

"Close your eyes," he repeated the original ask.

Rebecca studied him, trying to decide whether he was being deliberately evasive or whether he genuinely thought that closing her eyes would get her to dinner. There was no hint of frivolity in his expression. He was simply waiting.

"You're serious?" she asked.

"I'm serious."

"I'm going to close my eyes, and you're going to take me to dinner?" she asked.

"I am," he replied.

"As long as you close them before sunrise," he added, smiling back at her.

"And if I don't like where we end up?" she asked.

"Simple... we will leave and go somewhere different."

She glanced at the door again. The knowledge that she could leave was reassuring, but it was not quite enough. She needed to know that she could trust him, or more so, trust the bargain.

"If I close my eyes," she said, "you won't do anything I haven't asked for, or agreed to?"

"No."

"And you won't take me somewhere I haven't chosen?" she asked.

"No."

"Even if you think you know what I want better than I do?" she asked.

"Especially then."

That answer quietened her. Rebecca stood and collected her coat from the chair. The movement felt strangely formal, as though she were preparing to leave for an appointment rather than begin the most peculiar night of her life. She slipped the card into her coat pocket and slipped the coat over her shoulders.

Lucian rose as well.

He walked towards the door but stopped before opening it.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No," she admitted, her heart pounding once more as she considered the stupidity of his request, and the vulnerability it would put her in if she did comply.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Rebecca sighed.

"But I'm going to do it anyway," she added.

Lucian smiled.

Rebecca stepped closer. She was aware of him in a way she had not been in the room before. Perhaps it was because they were about to leave. Perhaps it was because she was about to put her trust in him, however temporarily.

She held out her hand.

Lucian looked at it, then took it gently.

His fingers were warm.

"Close your eyes," he said, and this time, Rebecca did.

For a moment, nothing happened. She heard the quiet of the room, if you could hear silence. She felt the pressure of Lucian's hand around hers. Somewhere, perhaps inside the walls, there was a faint ticking sound.

Then she gasped, never quite knowing if the outburst was audible or just in her mind.

The air changed. The warmth of the room disappeared, replaced by a cooler current of air against her face. If she didn't know better, it was as if she was flying, literally flying. How long did it last? She wasn't sure, but not too long. They couldn't have gone that far before she felt firmness beneath her feet once more.

For a moment, she stood there, eyes closed, gripping hard against his hand. Wherever it was seemed different. She heard voices, the clink of glass, the soft movement of people speaking in low tones. There was a faint, unfamiliar smell in the air, something clean and delicate, something mixed with ginger, soy, and the aroma of warm rice.

"You can open them again," Lucian commented.

"And you can let go of my hand," he added.

Slowly, Rebecca opened her eyes.

They were standing inside a restaurant. It was unlike anywhere she had ever eaten. The room was elegant, with modern furnishings and soft subdued lighting. A long bar area occupied one side of the room, with several bartenders taking care of a variety of drinks. A single row of tables made up the other side of the room, each seeming both comfortable and private. The restaurant was busy but not crowded. The atmosphere felt calm rather than formal.

Rebecca turned slowly towards Lucian.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

Lucian released her hand.

"Practice," he replied.

Rebecca shrugged. She sort of knew she wasn't going to get a better answer, so she didn't pursue it any further. Instead, she took in her surroundings. She looked back towards the entrance. Through the glass doors, she could see a busy street filled with lights and passing cars. She recognised neither the road nor the buildings outside.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"London," he replied. "Mayfair to be precise."

Rebecca looked back at him.

"You brought me to Mayfair?" she commented. "Do you know how expensive Mayfair is?"

Lucian shrugged.

"You asked for somewhere beautiful... and Japanese food... and this is one of the most authentic Japanese restaurants outside of Japan," he replied. "Oh, and don't worry... the bargain will take care of everything."

Rebecca studied the restaurant again.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Do they know you?" she asked.

"They know me."

That answer was not especially reassuring, but before she could question it further, a woman in a dark, neatly pressed uniform approached them. She greeted Lucian with a small almost ceremonial bow, then turned her attention to Rebecca.

"Your table is ready," she announced.

Rebecca blinked.

"Our table?" she asked.

Lucian looked at her.

"You did ask for dinner," he commented.

"I know, but I didn't expect them to know we were coming... I didn't exactly give you enough time to make a reservation," she commented, her words aimed towards Lucian.

The woman smiled politely.

"This way, please," she announced.

Rebecca followed her, with Lucian by her side. They were shown to a secluded table near the back of the restaurant. It was not hidden, exactly, but it offered a degree of privacy. Two menus had already been placed on the table, along with small ceramic dishes and a pair of lacquered chopsticks.

Rebecca sat down and looked at the menu. It was written partly in Japanese and partly in English. The descriptions were precise but unfamiliar. She recognised a few words, but most of the dishes seemed to belong to a world she had only ever seen in photographs.

Lucian sat opposite her.

She showed him the menu.

"This may have been a mistake," she admitted. "I have no idea what any of this is."

"You can always ask," he replied.

Rebecca glanced at the menu again.

"Okay... what's the difference between sashimi and sushi?" she replied. "And yes... I know what sushi is."

"Sashimi is usually sliced raw fish served without rice. Sushi is prepared with vinegared rice, often accompanied by fish, seafood, or sometimes other ingredients," he answered.

Rebecca looked up.

"You really do know everything, don't you?" she asked.

"No."

Rebecca laughed.

"Go on... name one thing you don't know," she commented, knowing he had said he would only ever answer truthfully.

Lucian considered the question.

"I don't know what you are going to choose to eat," he replied.

"Not fair!" Rebecca explained. "That's because I don't know what I'm going to choose either."

"Then... finally... we have something in common," Lucian responded.

Rebecca smiled faintly and returned to the menu. After several minutes, she closed it. What had been said was true. She didn't have a clue what she wanted to order, so much so that she made a totally different request.

"Could you order something that lets me try a bit of everything?" she asked.

Lucian nodded.

The waitress returned, and Rebecca let him explain what they wanted. She listened carefully, trying to retain the names of the dishes. Other than the sushi and sashimi, oh and yes, the tempura, it was like a foreign language...

... gyoza.

... takoyaki.

... nasu dengaku.

... yakitori.

... okonomiyaki.

When the waitress left, Rebecca looked at Lucian.

"What did you order?" Rebecca asked.

"What you wanted... a little of everything."

That answer did little to reassure her.

She didn't feel any better when, about fifteen minutes later, a collection of dishes began to arrive. Some were familiar enough: sushi, dumplings, tempura, small bowls of soup. Others were less easily identified, their ingredients arranged with such precision that she almost felt reluctant to disturb them.

She had chosen Japanese food because she had always wanted to try it. That had seemed like a perfectly reasonable request when she made it. Now, confronted with the reality of it, she wondered whether she was as adventurous as she had imagined.

Lucian, meanwhile, appeared entirely at ease. He had arranged everything without hesitation, from the restaurant to the food, to the chilled sake he was now pouring. He had even remembered to ask for a table away from the busiest part of the room. Okay, so when you had the benefit of a few supernatural powers, it wasn't that difficult, but he still wanted to make it perfect.

Rebecca glanced at him.

He caught her looking and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," came the reply, accompanied by a faint smile.

Lucian could be infuriating. His knowing expressions and carefully chosen words seemed designed to keep her slightly off balance. Yet, so far, he had done precisely what he promised. She had asked for dinner, and he had taken her to dinner. It wasn't his idea of dinner. It was hers, and that distinction mattered.

The waitress placed a final plate on the table and left them to eat.

Rebecca picked up her glass and tried the sake. It wasn't exactly unpleasant. It was just, well, it was something she would need to acquire a taste for. She set it down and turned her attention to the food.

The tempura looked inviting. She managed to pick up a piece with the chopsticks after only a couple of attempts, though she was careful not to look too pleased with herself when she succeeded. The dumplings proved a little more troublesome. They were soft and slippery, and she nearly dropped one back onto her plate before finally managing to lift it. Still, she was getting there.

Then came the takoyaki. Rebecca studied the small, golden balls of batter, their surfaces glistening with sauce. She had never eaten them before and had no idea what to expect.

She selected one, reaching out to grab it. It rolled away from her. She tried again, adjusting the angle of the chopsticks and applying slightly more pressure. This time she nearly made it, before the ball slipped free. She went after it, catching it against the edge of the plate, but all that movement did was send it rolling back in the opposite direction.

Lucian was watching.

Rebecca could feel his attention without looking up.

She tried once more.

The takoyaki escaped again.

"Damn it," she whispered, feeling just a little frustrated with her own ineptitude.

She set the chopsticks down. She took a sip of her sake, as if for a little added courage, then immediately picked them up again. She wasn't going to be defeated by a simple ball of batter. The next attempt got as far as lifting it from the plate. Rebecca carefully raised her hand, concentrating so hard that she almost stopped breathing.

She applied just a little too much pressure.

The chopsticks shifted and the ball fell. This time, it landed on the table, leaving a greasy mark on the cloth. Rebecca stared at it. She wondered, would it look totally out of place if she simply grabbed it in her fingers? And then she noticed him.

Across from her, Lucian remained silent, and somehow that was worse than laughter.

She looked up towards Lucian. He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite interpret. There was amusement there, certainly, but she couldn't decide whether it was directed at her or at the ridiculous struggle taking place between her and her dinner.

Rebecca gave him an exasperated look.

He glanced at the abandoned takoyaki.

"Would you like some help?" he asked.

Rebecca opened her mouth to refuse.

The word was already forming when she stopped herself. She had spent much of the evening insisting that she could manage things. She had questioned the bargain, challenged Lucian's explanations, and tried to establish precisely how much control she retained. Now she was struggling with something as simple as chopsticks. She didn't particularly want his help, but she wanted even less to spend the next ten minutes watching him eat as she chased her dinner around the table.

"Fine," she said.

Lucian reached across the table.

He didn't take the chopsticks from her immediately. Instead, he indicated the position of her fingers and showed her how to hold one steady while moving the other. Rebecca tried to follow his instructions.

The takoyaki slipped again.

She looked at the chopsticks with growing disbelief.

"I think these things are defective," she exclaimed, placing them down on her plate.

Lucian considered them.

"It's possible," he replied.

Rebecca looked up sharply. For a moment, she couldn't tell whether he was being serious or not. They were just sticks, straight sticks, so how could they be defective? Then she saw the faintest suggestion of a smile. Rebecca laughed before she could stop herself. It was an unexpected sound, and she lowered her head, embarrassed by how easily it had escaped.

Lucian didn't comment.

He simply picked up a fresh takoyaki ball with his own chopsticks. Rebecca watched him bring it towards her. At first, she assumed he was going to place it on her plate. He didn't. He held it out. Rebecca stared at the ball, then at him. The gesture was so unexpected that she found herself questioning his intentions.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

Lucian nodded. He wasn't smiling now. He wasn't making a joke or waiting for her to embarrass herself. He simply held the food there, his expression calm and patient.

Rebecca glanced around the restaurant. Nobody appeared to be watching. The couple at the next table were absorbed in their conversation, and the waitress was busy arranging glasses near the bar.

Still, the situation felt awkward.

Still, the situation felt absurdly intimate.

She had known Lucian for only a short time. He was a stranger who claimed to be a demon, a man who could read her thoughts and take her through doors that had no business existing. And now he was offering to feed her.

She looked back at him.

Rebecca studied his face, searching for some indication that he was enjoying her discomfort. She found none. There was amusement, perhaps, but it wasn't cruel. He seemed to find the situation more entertaining than her embarrassment. More importantly, he didn't appear to think any less of her.

She leaned forward and accepted the ball.

Lucian lowered the chopsticks and returned his attention to his own plate. He didn't congratulate her. He didn't make some clever observation about how she had finally managed to eat. He simply carried on.

Rebecca remained still for a moment.

Then she looked down at her own chopsticks.

"I'm going to get this right," she whispered, as if only for her own encouragement.

The next attempt was better. She managed to lift a piece of sashimi, though her grip remained awkward and she held it with far more concentration than the task deserved. When it reached her mouth intact, she felt a small, ridiculous sense of achievement.

Rebecca tried another piece, then another.

The meal gradually became easier.

She began to ask questions about the food, and Lucian explained what he knew. When she tried something unfamiliar, he waited to see what she thought rather than telling her what she ought to like.

The more she ate, the less self-conscious Rebecca became. She even managed to make him laugh when she declared that the takoyaki had been personally responsible for the most humiliating five minutes of her life. By the time the last dishes had been cleared, Rebecca had stopped thinking about the chopsticks altogether.

She had enjoyed the meal.

More than that, she had enjoyed the company.

That realisation arrived quietly. Lucian was still frustrating. He was still infuriatingly vague when it suited him, and she remained aware that she knew almost nothing about him, but he seemed to know plenty about her. He had been patient, though. He had helped without making her feel foolish. And when she had been embarrassed, he had somehow managed to make the situation easier without pretending that it hadn't happened.

Rebecca looked across the table.

She was beginning to like him.

The thought made her pause. It was not something she had expected. She had met him in a bar on the worst evening of her life, followed him through a supernatural doorway, and accepted a bargain she still wasn't entirely certain she understood. Liking him wasn't part of the bargain, even though she had to admit that he was just about as perfect--in the looks department, that was--as the evening he was promising.

And yet, there it was.

She looked towards the window. Rain had begun to fall over the city, catching in the streetlights. People hurried along the pavement, umbrellas up, dashing to find shelter.

Inside, the restaurant remained warm and softly lit, the noise of the outside world reduced to a distant murmur. Rebecca glanced at the time. Two hours had passed. It had gone so quickly. Time never went that quickly, not normally. But, as people tended to say, it was a sign of having fun, or maybe of not having to worry about being sensible. She had not worried about whether Tom would have enjoyed the restaurant, whether she should have chosen somewhere cheaper, or whether she ought to be home preparing for work tomorrow.

She had simply wanted dinner, and Lucian had made it happen.

For years, Rebecca had measured even the smallest pleasures against their consequences. She had been sensible because sensible people avoided unnecessary risks. They planned ahead, considered the cost, and thought about tomorrow. But tonight, she had allowed herself to want something without immediately deciding whether she deserved it. What was more, she had enjoyed doing so, and that thought left her feeling strangely light.

"I think I like this," she commented, smiling back at him.

Lucian looked at her.

"Dinner?" he asked.

Rebecca smiled.

"Not having to be sensible," she replied.

His expression softened, and for a moment she wondered whether he understood how much the admission meant. She still valued responsibility. She still liked knowing that her life was in order. But perhaps she had spent so long protecting herself from disappointment that she had forgotten pleasure could exist without demanding something in return.

Lucian glanced towards the entrance.

His movement reminded her of something else. Two hours had already passed, but he had promised her the perfect evening, all the way until sunrise. The evening was over, but she still had the perfect night ahead of her. The meal had been her first request. There was still time before dawn.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"Where next?" she asked.

Lucian smiled.

"Maybe you've forgotten... tonight is your choice, Rebecca," he replied.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 6

Finding Her Rhythm

Rebecca looked across the table.

For a moment, she considered pretending she had not heard him. Your choice? It was such a simple suggestion, yet somehow it seemed to carry more weight than it should. So far, the whole evening had been built around choices, and now she was beginning to understand that the difficult part was not so much having the freedom to choose. The difficult part was knowing what she actually wanted when nobody else was making the decision for her.

She smiled.

The smile came more easily now.

She had noticed that during dinner. She had been smiling since they arrived at the restaurant, laughing at things that, under ordinary circumstances, probably would not have been particularly funny. Even the chopsticks had become an absurd little victory, and she was faintly surprised by how pleased she had been when she finally managed to master them just enough to not leave hungry.

Perhaps it was the sake.

Perhaps it was the food.

Perhaps it was simply being somewhere that had nothing to do with Tom.

More likely, she thought, it was Lucian.

She looked at him, and this time her gaze was a little softer than before, a little softer and maybe a little more curious. He had barely changed since they had left the strange house. He wore the same dark clothes. He carried the same calm expression, with the same unsettling eyes that seemed to notice rather more than she wanted them to.

Yet something had changed.

Or perhaps she had changed.

When she had first met him, she had been wary of every word he said. She had watched his hands. She had watched the door. She had wondered whether every smile concealed some hidden intention. Now she was sitting across from him in an expensive London restaurant, feeling oddly comfortable in his company. That should probably have worried her. Instead, she found herself enjoying it.

Lucian extended his hand towards her. She met him halfway, allowing him to take her hand in his. For a moment they simply stayed that way, hand in hand. He didn't hurry her. He never seemed to, and that was becoming one of the strangest things about him.

"You really don't have an answer, do you?" he asked.

Rebecca nodded.

He could have suggested somewhere. He could have told her what came next, could have taken control of the rest of the night and made the decision for her. Perhaps that would have been easier, but he didn't. He had already told her that this was her perfect night, not his. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, she was beginning to understand what that meant.

She looked around the restaurant one last time.

The room was warm and elegant, the lighting low enough to create intimacy without making the place feel gloomy. Conversation drifted around them, softened by distance. Somewhere behind her, a glass clinked against another. There were couples everywhere, couples talking, couples eating, couples simply enjoying themselves, not remotely interested in anyone or anything else, least of all Rebecca.

Nobody knew what had happened to her.

Nobody knew that she had been betrayed earlier that evening.

Nobody knew that she had made a bargain with a man who might not even be human.

For the first time, Rebecca realised how liberating anonymity could be. She didn't have to explain herself here. She didn't have to be the Rebecca who had spent years being sensible, responsible, and careful. She could simply be her. And it was with that thought in her mind that suddenly she knew.

"Dancing," Rebecca announced.

Lucian raised an eyebrow.

She almost laughed at his reaction.

"Yes... dancing," she repeated, this time without hesitation and with just a hint of added enthusiasm. "I want to go dancing."

Lucian gave a small nod, then he waited. The choice was still hers. He wanted her to continue, to provide just a little more detail behind what was quite a broad request.

Rebecca thought about what she wanted.

A nightclub came to mind almost immediately, but she rejected it. That would be too loud, too crowded, too showy. She wanted music, but not noise. She wanted somewhere more elegant, somewhere refined, somewhere she could forget herself without feeling as though she had disappeared into a crowd. Most importantly, she wanted somewhere she would not have to worry about looking stupid, relaxed enough that she could just go with the flow.

She admitted as much, and Lucian's expression softened.

Everyone looked slightly foolish when they danced, he reminded her. The observation was so unexpectedly ordinary that she laughed. It was meant to reassure her and, somehow, it did.

Then another thought occurred to her. She had danced before, of course, at weddings, at parties, at nights out with friends. She had danced on her own. She had danced with Tom. But she had never danced with Lucian. Rebecca wondered whether he could dance at all. Was it something demons learned to do? His answer, though, had been delivered with enough confidence to suggest that perhaps he could.

That made Rebecca smile.

She wasn't going to ask, not yet, but already she had an idea in the back of her mind.

"Alright," Lucian replied, rising from the table and offering her his hand. "Shall we go dancing?"

This time Rebecca grabbed her coat and took his hand without hesitation.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

Rebecca looked at him, then at their joined hands. They were doing it again. The first time had felt awkwardly strange. She still had no idea how he had managed to move them from the house to the restaurant without seeming to cross the distance between the two. Yet she had survived it. Even now, it didn't feel totally comfortable, standing there, in a busy restaurant, hand in hand with a demon. Yet, apparently, that was the standard by which she was now judging supernatural experiences.

She closed her eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened. She still heard the restaurant around her, the muffled conversations of others, the clink of cutlery, the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor. Then even those sounds seemed to disappear. A strange sensation moved beneath her feet, almost as though she was still but the floor itself had shifted.

The air changed.

The warmth remained, but the scent was different, cooler, cleaner. There was something faintly floral in it, mixed with the polished, almost dry, scent of wood.

Rebecca opened her eyes.

She was standing in a ballroom the likes of which she had never seen before. For several seconds, she simply stared. It was beautiful. The room was vast, with a polished wooden floor stretching beneath enormous chandeliers. Tall windows lined one wall, their glass reflecting the city lights outside. The ceiling was high enough to make her feel suddenly very small.

Music filled the room, not loud, not overwhelming, just beautifully classic, played by a string quartet at one end of the hall. There were people dancing, men in formal suits, ladies with long flowing ballgowns. Couples moved slowly across the floor, dressed for a night that appeared to belong to another time and place.

Rebecca looked down at herself.

Her black dress was still the same.

For some reason, she had expected the magic to change her clothes. Perhaps she had imagined herself transformed into someone more glamorous, someone who belonged in a place like this. But nothing about her had changed.

She looked at Lucian.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Vienna," he replied.

She gave him a look.

He smiled faintly, and suddenly Rebecca knew he was telling the truth. She could have pushed him for a more precise answer, but something told her it didn't really matter. Wherever they were, she had asked for somewhere elegant where people could dance, and he had found it. That was enough. She glanced around again, taking in the room, the dancers, and the quiet sophistication of the place.

"How did you get us here?" she asked.

"We flew," he replied.

She shook her head, smiling at the ridiculousness of that answer. He was impossible, but she was beginning to like him more with every passing minute. That said, she hadn't asked to come all the way to Vienna--in fact, she hadn't asked at all to come to Vienna--to simply contemplate how they had arrived.

Rebecca looked towards the dancers, then back at Lucian.

"No," she commented.

Lucian looked at her, slightly surprised by the response. She'd asked to dance, that bit was clear. He even remembered her discounting a disco. Okay, so she hadn't said it, but he'd read it in her thoughts. What he had also read was elegant and refined. You didn't get any more elegant and refined than ballroom.

"What's wrong, Rebecca?" he asked, concerned rather than challenging.

"Nothing's wrong," she replied. "It's perfect... just perfect... but, it's not..."

Her voice tailed off. She felt quite guilty about what she was about to say. It wasn't his fault. Lucian had gone to all this effort, and she was about to throw it all back at him. It was just, well, a little too formal.

"... not what you want," Lucian completed the sentence.

"I'm sorry... I should have been more explicit," Rebecca explained. "I do want to dance, but not here. I want somewhere smaller... somewhere more relaxed... somewhere that I can simply enjoy myself... enjoy the music... and dance."

Lucian smiled.

There was no disappointment in his expression. There was no irritation that she had rejected something he had gone to the trouble of arranging. If anything, he seemed quietly pleased that she hadn't simply accepted.

"Then we try again," he continued.

Rebecca blinked.

She looked back towards the ballroom. It really was beautiful. It was more beautiful than anything she had expected to see that night, and she felt almost guilty for not wanting it.

"I do appreciate this," she said. "I really do."

"I know," he replied, "but it isn't what you want."

Rebecca nodded.

"I think I want something a little less... perfect," she said.

Lucian's smile widened.

"A little less perfect... now that is something I can work with," he responded.

He held out his hand again.

Rebecca took it. This time, when she closed her eyes, she found herself smiling. The sensation came more quickly than before, as if she was finally getting used to this unusual way of travelling. The ballroom faded around her, taking the music and the soft murmur of conversation with it. For a moment there was nothing but darkness and the warmth of Lucian's hand around hers.

Then the air changed once more.

It was colder than before. The clean aroma of flowers and wood had gone. Instead, it was something damper, maybe something with an earthy undertone, which filled her senses. She heard the distant sound of traffic, then voices, laughter and, somewhere nearby, the unmistakable rhythm of music.

When she opened her eyes, she was standing on a narrow street, outside a rather nondescript grey fake-stone façade with a sign in the window announcing, in English, that it was a jazz club. And as for the dampness, just like back at home, it had been raining. Immediately Rebecca wondered if they had travelled back to London. That didn't last too long. A couple walked past, and for sure they weren't speaking her native tongue.

"France?" she asked, already assuming the answer.

"Paris," he replied.

She nodded. She had been there once, years ago, although only for a long weekend. She had remembered the wide boulevards and grand buildings, the cafés spilling onto pavements, the river, and the lights.

This was different.

The street was narrower and older. The buildings were smaller, not as elegant, not as appealing. There was a reddish glow in the air. Rebecca glanced up. It was coming from a neon sign above. For a moment she simply stared at the words.

'CAVEAU de la HUCHETTE'

She hadn't heard of it, and from the outside it didn't look promising. Already, Rebecca was starting to wonder if she had made a mistake. Was this Lucian showing he wasn't exactly happy with her? Should she have stayed in Vienna?

The door opened, the one to the jazz club. Rebecca heard the music again. It wasn't the polished sound of the ballroom. This was different. It was lively and slightly rough around the edges, a rhythm that seemed to come from somewhere beneath the street itself. She watched as a couple walked inside then headed down a narrow staircase and out of sight.

She looked at Lucian.

"A jazz club in a cellar?" she asked.

Lucian nodded.

"Somewhere smaller... somewhere more relaxed... somewhere you can listen and dance," he added, moving forward and opening the door.

That answer stayed with her as they descended the narrow stairs. All he had done was repeat what she had said back in Vienna, yet it meant so much. It wasn't just the words. It was the fact that he had seemed to listen. Rebecca had no idea what a cellar beneath a Parisian street would bring her--she had visions of the Cavern Club in Liverpool with its small, vaulted rooms and barely enough space to move--but that didn't matter. As they tended to say, it was the thought that counted.

The music became louder with every step. By the time they reached the bottom, Rebecca could feel the rhythm through the soles of her shoes. She almost found herself wanting to tap out the beat as she walked into the room beyond.

It was nothing like the ballroom. It was smaller, darker, and seemingly alive. Low ceilings arched overhead. Old stone walls reflected a warm hue around the room. There were a few seats around the edge of the room, leaving what was a narrow space in the middle. It was busy, just as she imagined it might have been, but it wasn't overly crowded.

"Drink?" Lucian asked.

"Lime and soda," she replied.

And, as Lucian headed to the bar, Rebecca dropped her coat onto a chair and turned her attention to the music. There was a band at one end, a piano, drums, a double bass, and a saxophone. The musicians were playing with an energy that seemed completely at odds with the age of the room around them. Completely at odds, and completely fluid. If they had a score, for sure they weren't following it. It was like the tune was being invented as they went, every note, every chord, every playful beat.

Rebecca stood still for a moment.

Then she smiled. This was it. This was what she had been trying to describe. There was no sense of ceremony here. Nobody seemed concerned about looking elegant. Nobody appeared to care whether their movements were perfect. People were simply dancing, some good, some not so good.

It didn't seem to matter.

Rebecca heard footsteps. It was Lucian, returning with a couple of drinks. She turned slowly towards him. She smiled.

"It's perfect," she said. "Just perfect."

Lucian looked at her. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to say anything. He simply smiled as he watched her down half of her drink.

The band changed tempo. The rhythm became faster, the piano driving the music forward while the saxophone rose above it. Rebecca felt something inside her respond. She had never been a fan of jazz, but when it came to live music, she hadn't realised just how much she had missed it.

The music made it impossible to remain still.

She looked towards the small space in the centre of the room.

"Come... let's dance," she whispered.

"You go... I'll look after the drinks," Lucian replied, not exactly refusing, but providing an easy excuse for Rebecca to enjoy the rest of her night. He watched as she stepped onto the floor alone and started to dance.

At first, Rebecca felt self-conscious. There were people around her, moving in ways she couldn't quite predict. She wondered whether she looked foolish, whether she was doing too much, whether she was doing too little, whether she was even keeping in time. Then she remembered what Lucian had told her earlier.

'Everyone looked slightly foolish when they danced.'

Perhaps that was the point. Rebecca let the music take her. Her movements were tentative at first, but gradually they became more confident. She stopped thinking about what her feet were doing and started listening instead. The music seemed to reach somewhere deep inside, as if the beat was throbbing through her veins, becoming her own pulse.

She turned.

She laughed.

Nobody was watching, or, if they were, they didn't care.

Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment. She could remember dancing like this when she was younger, much younger. She had loved it then. She loved it now. All her cares seemed to have melted away, and it felt wonderful.

That realisation brought an unexpected sadness with it. It wasn't that Tom had taken this away from her. He hadn't. She had simply stopped choosing it. Somewhere along the way, she had decided that there were more important things to do, maybe even more sensible things to do. And perhaps tonight was teaching her that there didn't always have to be.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked for Lucian. He was watching from the edge of the room. He wasn't smiling, not quite. There was something warmer in his expression, something which suggested he was loving her enjoyment just as much as she was.

Rebecca danced for another song.

Then another.

Eventually, she made her way back towards him, breathing slightly harder from the effort of dancing, yet all the time feeling wonderfully alive. She grabbed her drink and quickly downed the rest of it.

"You're good," he said.

She grinned.

"Thank you, Lucian... you know... I haven't felt this good in ages," she replied.

The confidence of the answer surprised Rebecca. What followed next surprised both of them. Rebecca laughed. Then, in a mirror image of what Lucian had done earlier, she held out her hand.

"My turn to choose," she whispered.

Lucian took her hand, unsure whether she was playing or already wanting to leave.

"And where would you like me to take you next?" he asked.

Rebecca just smiled. And this time there was a hint of playful confidence in that smile.

"I think you misunderstood... I don't want you to take me anywhere," she replied.

"I want you to join me," she added.

Without hesitation, Rebecca pulled him towards the dance floor. At first, he thought about hesitating. He didn't. Lucian had promised her the perfect night, and if that meant she wanted him to dance also, then that was what he would do.

The music had changed again, becoming slower but no less rhythmic.

This time, Rebecca wasn't nervous. She wasn't self-conscious. She just went with the flow, dancing with a stranger, and enjoying every minute of it. And Lucian simply danced alongside her, matching her every movement, not perfectly, just effortlessly.

Rebecca found herself moving ahead of him, anticipating the rhythm rather than waiting for his lead. He let her, and that pleased Rebecca more than it should have. She realised that was another thing she was learning about him. He could lead when she wanted him to. He could follow when she didn't. And perhaps that was why she was becoming so comfortable with him.

The music carried them through another song.

Then another.

At some point, Rebecca stopped thinking about where they were. She was simply there, dancing. But she wasn't simply dancing. She was dancing with a demon, with her demon, with Lucian. It was absurd. It was wonderful at the same time. It was completely unlike anything she had planned and, perhaps for that very reason, it was perfect.

When the music finally slowed, Rebecca found herself standing close to him. Neither spoke. She looked up at him, her gaze meeting his. His face was close, closer than it had been before. For one strange second, Rebecca thought about kissing him. The thought startled her. She almost stepped away. Then she remembered something.

This was her night.

This was her choice.

And, before she could think herself out of it, Rebecca leaned towards him and pressed a quick, almost shy kiss against his cheek. Then she stepped back. The expression on Lucian's face was worth it.

For once, he looked genuinely surprised.

Rebecca felt a sudden flush of embarrassment.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she explained.

He touched the place where she had kissed him, almost absently.

"For what?" he asked.

She smiled.

"For listening... for giving me something so... perfect," she replied.

Something softened in his eyes.

"You're welcome," he responded.

Rebecca looked away for a moment. It had been such a small thing, barely a kiss at all, yet somehow it felt more intimate than she had expected. Perhaps it was because she had chosen to do it, not because she had been asked to do it, not because the bargain required her to do it. She had simply wanted to, and that was exactly what she had done.

For a split second, Rebecca had pushed whatever sensibility remained to the back of her mind and done something on impulse.

The band began another song.

Rebecca heard the first notes and felt the familiar urge to move. She held out her hand. Lucian took it. And this time, when they returned to the dance floor, she didn't think about what might happen next. For the moment, there was only the music, the warmth of his hand in hers and the strange, exhilarating knowledge that she was finally beginning to understand what her freedom felt like.

It wasn't about getting everything she wanted.

It was about discovering what she wanted in the first place.

And tonight, for once, Rebecca was allowing herself to find out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 7

Tasting Freedom

The music continued around them, but Rebecca was beginning to feel that she had reached the end of the moment. It wasn't because she wanted it to end, quite the opposite. She wanted to stay on that dance floor forever, but the bargain had already begun to change something inside her, and she could feel it happening.

No, not the bargain. That hadn't changed anything. It was Rebecca herself who was changing. Each request seemed to make the next one easier. Dinner had been safe. Dancing had been different, more personal and, somehow, more revealing. With every choice, Rebecca seemed to be getting a little closer to admitting what she actually wanted.

She looked at Lucian as they danced slowly across the floor.

"Do you know what I like about this?" she whispered.

"I don't have to know what happens next," she added, never waiting for Lucian to respond. "I've spent years considering what happens next in everything I do, and tonight I don't have to. I can simply enjoy myself. I can simply be me."

The music changed again, becoming slower still. Rebecca rested her hands more comfortably against his shoulders. She pulled herself in just a little closer, enjoying the strength of his body next to hers.

"And how is it working out... well... being you?" he asked.

She gave him a look.

"You're very funny for someone who might be a demon," she commented.

How was it working out? It was only one night, but it was, so far, such a wonderful night. Whatever doubts she had about the bargain, in the moment, weren't important anymore. He had promised, and he was delivering on that promise. And then a different thought crossed her mind. She glanced across the dance floor. She wondered how many of these other people were living exactly as she had been, using tonight to break with all their usual sensibility.

"Lucian?" Rebecca asked. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can always ask," he replied.

She smiled.

"That doesn't mean you'll answer, does it?" she commented.

The expression on his face gave her an immediate answer.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked. "You know... taken someone on a perfect night... you know... like this?"

He was silent for a moment. For once, he was struggling between telling her the honest answer and telling her what he wanted her to know. He was never meant to venture into the latter. That wasn't part of the bargain. It was becoming harder all the time, though.

"Not exactly," he replied.

"That's not a no," Rebecca quickly observed. "How many have there been?"

He looked at her.

"How many people have you made bargains with?" she repeated.

He didn't answer immediately.

She felt the mood change, not badly. It was just enough to remind her that there was something behind his calm exterior that she still didn't understand.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

For a moment, Rebecca thought about it. Did it matter? In one way it did. She wondered if she was just the next on a long conveyor belt of people who'd enjoyed their own perfect nights. In another it didn't. Would it make things better to know? Probably not. Would it make things worse? Quite possibly yes. And in the end, she decided it was better to keep to what she did know and not worry about what she didn't.

Rebecca rested her head briefly against his shoulder.

She didn't know why she did it. Perhaps because it felt natural. Perhaps because, for the first time that night, she wasn't thinking about whether something was appropriate. She simply wanted to. She rested her head and briefly closed her eyes. It lasted little more than a few seconds, time enough to make another decision.

"I want to go somewhere," she announced.

Lucian paused, their impromptu slow dance ending.

"Where?" he asked.

She looked towards the cellar entrance and that narrow staircase.

"Somewhere outside," she replied.

"Outside is a huge place, you know... can you narrow it down?" he asked.

Rebecca thought.

Then, unexpectedly, she knew.

"The beach," she exclaimed. "I want to go to the beach. A proper beach, with sand and sea and waves. I don't care where."

At first, Lucian said nothing. He watched her carefully, a bemused look on his face. He could sense something different in the request, but he wasn't sure quite what it was. A beach, at night, was a strange place to want to be taken to.

Rebecca could see the way he looked at her. She could almost imagine what he was thinking, as if she were the one who could now read minds. Oh yes, he'd be thinking that she'd gone crazy. And maybe she had.

"I want to take my shoes off... I want to run... across the sand... through the water... take me there... please take me there... I want to feel free," Rebecca added.

She looked almost embarrassed by that final admission.

Lucian held her gaze. There was no humour in his expression now, only quiet understanding. She wanted to feel free. That was what the bargain offered, wasn't it? Not the chance to become somebody else, but the freedom to discover who she actually was when she stopped worrying about who she was supposed to be. So, wasn't it right that he gave her that chance?

Quickly, he grabbed her coat, then offered his hand.

Rebecca took it.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, repeating what was now becoming a most familiar phrase.

She did.

This time, Rebecca didn't feel nervous. She was already trusting him, and that surprised her. She had known him for only a few hours. She had followed him through an impossible door, accepted a supernatural bargain, and allowed him to transport her from one place to another. Yet somehow the most remarkable part of the night was that she allowed herself to trust him. Perhaps it was because he had never taken anything from her. Perhaps it was because every important choice had remained hers.

She felt the strange shift beneath her feet.

The music faded to nothing.

The warmth disappeared.

Cold air touched her face.

She opened her eyes.

It was dark, the only light coming from the silvery sheen of a full moon and the glow of a small town close by. For a moment she could only stare.

The sea stretched before her.

The beach was deserted.

A long curve of pale sand disappeared into the darkness in both directions. The water rolled towards the shore in silver-black waves, reflecting the moonlight. Above them, the sky seemed enormous, a cavernous black expanse of nothingness.

Rebecca breathed in.

She could almost sense the salt in the wind. It felt exactly as she wanted it to feel, wild and clean. And suddenly she couldn't contain herself. Rebecca bent down and removed her shoes. She placed them carefully on the sand. She looked at him, standing there, holding her coat. Then, she took that first step, tentatively, as if not knowing if it was all going to disappear and she would wake up from a dream.

The ground was cold beneath her feet. She could feel both the texture of the sand and a touch of dampness through her stockinged feet. She took another step, then another. The wind caught her hair and pushed it across her face.

She didn't care.

She walked towards the water.

The first wave reached her feet. Cold rushed around her ankles. She gasped, then laughed. Wherever he had taken her, it was freezing, absolutely freezing. She stepped back, then forward again.

Another wave rolled in. This time she stayed where she was. The water splashed up, catching the hem of her dress. She looked down at it and laughed again. Rebecca couldn't remember the last time she had done something this stupid, this unnecessary, this wonderful.

She turned towards Lucian.

"Come on! Join me!" she called out.

He remained where he was.

"You told me you wanted to run," he commented.

Rebecca grinned.

"I did," she acknowledged, as much for herself as for him.

And that was just what she did. She ran, through the shallows, following the sea as it lapped up on the beach. The water splashed around her legs as she moved, the cold forgotten almost immediately beneath her sudden exhilaration. She laughed as the tiniest of waves chased her feet.

For once there was no destination, no reason, no plan.

She simply ran.

The wind pulled at her dress. Her hair whipped against her face. Her feet slipped slightly in the wet sand, and she nearly fell. She caught herself. She laughed harder still. When she finally stopped, she was breathless.

She turned around.

Lucian was still standing where she had left him, watching.

Rebecca walked back towards him.

"You're not much fun," she commented.

"I was enjoying watching you," he replied.

Rebecca stopped. There was something in the way he had said it. It wasn't possessive, nor was it suggestive. It was just honest. And as she thought about what he had said, suddenly she felt a touch of warmth in her cheeks, taking the edge off the chill of that fresh wind.

Rebecca looked at him.

"Was I that entertaining?" she asked.

"You were happy," he replied.

She looked away. The word landed more heavily than she expected. He had said she looked happy, but was she happy, genuinely happy? She looked out towards the sea. She thought carefully, and then she said it, for the very first time that night.

"I think I am."

"You think?" he asked.

She smiled.

"Yes."

Then she corrected herself.

"I am."

Lucian nodded.

"I thought that would be impossible... to feel happy... after what had happened," she continued.

"Most things seem impossible until they aren't," he responded, giving another of his vague yet annoying answers.

Rebecca didn't mind. She smiled. She walked past him towards her shoes. She was about to put them on, despite still wearing wet tights, then stopped.

"Lucian?" she asked.

"Thank you," she added.

He looked at her.

"For what?" he enquired.

She thought about it.

"For not telling me what I should want," she answered.

Something changed in his expression.

"I told you... that was never my decision to take," he commented.

Rebecca nodded. She picked up her shoes. The night air was colder now. She was suddenly aware of the stupidity of what she had done. Here she was, standing on a beach, wet tights clinging against her legs, with even the hem of her dress feeling damp.

She looked at Lucian.

"Can we go somewhere warm?" she asked.

"Of course," came the expected reply.

She hesitated. She realised there was another thought sitting beneath the request, a quieter one, a more dangerous one. She didn't say it. She also hoped he couldn't read her mind, not yet.

Rebecca looked towards the sea one last time.

She had asked for dinner.

She had danced.

She had run, still dressed, into the water.

Three requests.

And each one had taken her further away from the woman who had walked into that bar earlier that evening, or perhaps closer to the woman she had always been. She wasn't sure which, but she was beginning to suspect that the bargain wasn't just giving her a perfect night. It was giving her permission to discover what she had forgotten how to want.

Rebecca slipped her shoes into one hand and held out the other.

"Let's go," she announced.

Lucian offered her his hand.

She grasped it, just a little stronger than before, not because she was scared. She wasn't, at least not scared of the idea of travelling again. She closed her eyes for a moment. She found herself thinking about the fourth request.

The thought made her heart beat faster.

Rebecca opened her eyes.

"Lucian," she added, her words softly spoken, almost wishful. "I think I know where I want to go next."

His expression remained calm.

But his eyes seemed to darken slightly.

"Then tell me," he replied.

Rebecca looked at him.

And this time, she was being truthful. She knew exactly what she wanted.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 8

A Private Choice

Rebecca looked at Lucian.

She knew exactly what she wanted. That was the problem. Until now, her requests had been easy to explain. Dinner because she was hungry. Dancing because she wanted to enjoy herself. The beach because she wanted to feel free.

This was different.

She could feel the difference inside. Her heart was beating fast, maybe too fast. There were butterflies in her stomach. She hadn't felt like this for many years, all the way back to when she first met Tom, way before they ever became an item.

Lucian waited. He didn't prompt her. He didn't smile. He simply watched her.

"You said I could have whatever I wanted," she said eventually.

He nodded.

"And wherever I wanted," she added.

He nodded.

She looked down at their joined hands.

"There's something else I want," she continued.

Rebecca took a breath.

"I want a hotel... a nice one... elegant... comfortable... private... somewhere close to home... somewhere nobody knows me..." she explained.

Lucian nodded.

"That can be arranged," he replied.

Rebecca felt the tension in her shoulders ease. There was something about saying it aloud that made the request feel more real. A hotel meant a room. A room meant privacy. Privacy meant she could stop pretending that she was simply having an extraordinary night and admit what was truly on her mind. She wasn't entirely sure what that something was. Or perhaps she was, and she just wasn't ready to say it yet.

Lucian squeezed her hand.

This time, she closed her eyes before he asked. The world shifted. The sound of the sea vanished. The wind disappeared. A moment later it was replaced by the faint hum of air conditioning.

She opened her eyes.

They were standing in a hotel lobby.

Rebecca looked around.

It was beautiful without being ostentatious. Everywhere she looked, there was marble, on the floors, on the walls, even the reception desks were marble. A strange sculpture hung from the ceiling where she might have expected a chandelier or the like. It was, and this struck her the most, bright, modern, and sophisticated.

She glanced at Lucian.

"Where?" she asked.

"London," he replied. "Your London."

Rebecca smiled.

"The room is ready, Ms Mercer."

Rebecca looked towards the reception desk. She stopped for a moment, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. She hadn't given her name. She hadn't given any details. Yet here she was, with no need to check in, no sharing of identification, no credit card for expenses, no questions. The receptionist simply glanced at them and smiled as though their arrival was entirely expected.

"Seventeenth floor... lifts are at the end of the corridor on the left... welcome to the hotel Ms Mercer... I hope you enjoy your stay."

Rebecca suddenly felt self-conscious. She looked down at herself. Her tights were wet. Her dress was still slightly damp from the sea. Her hair was untidy. She was carrying her shoes. She looked like someone who didn't belong in such a plush hotel.

Lucian, though, seemed entirely unconcerned by her appearance, and neither did the receptionist. It was something else, though, which made him ask.

"Are you sure this is all right?" he asked. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

Rebecca smiled.

"No," she replied. "This is perfect."

They crossed the lobby and entered the lift. The doors closed. Rebecca leaned back against the wall and relaxed. She could hear the faint hum of the lift moving upwards. She looked at the floor indicator, counting the numbers until, finally, they reached seventeen.

The lift stopped.

The doors opened.

A quiet corridor stretched ahead of them. Lucian led the way with Rebecca close behind. At the end of the corridor was a single door. He stopped. He waited.

Rebecca looked at it.

"Is this it?" she asked, ignoring the fact that her key card matched the number on the door.

He nodded.

She reached for the handle.

Then stopped.

She looked at Lucian.

"Is this my choice too?" she asked.

"Everything tonight is your choice," he replied, reconfirming everything he had said all night.

She nodded, then she opened the door.

The room, for a hotel, was enormous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over London, the city spread beneath them in a glittering web of lights against the dark. There was a large bed beyond the sitting area, covered in crisp white linen. A bottle of champagne sat unopened on a small table beside two glasses.

Rebecca walked slowly towards the window.

She looked down.

"Is that..." she started to ask.

"The Thames," he finished off the sentence.

"It's... it's..." Rebecca started but couldn't find the words.

From this height, London looked almost unreal. It was beautiful, just beautiful. In the dark, she couldn't see too much, but the lights alone gave a sort of fairytale vision to the sprawling city. She tried to make out where she was. In the distance was what she imagined could be the London Eye, but she couldn't be totally sure.

She placed her shoes on the floor then turned back from the window. It was then that she noticed him. Lucian hadn't entered the room. He simply stood there, waiting near the door.

"Aren't you coming in?" she asked.

Lucian remained where he was, one hand resting lightly against the door.

"I'm waiting," he commented.

"For what?" Rebecca asked, confused by his reply.

"Your choice," came an unexpected answer.

Rebecca frowned slightly.

"I thought I'd already made it," she said.

"You asked for a hotel," he replied. "You didn't say whether you wanted it simply as somewhere to sleep, or whether you wanted me to stay."

The words caught her by surprise.

He continued before she could respond.

"If you want to turn in, I can leave you here. You can sleep until morning, and when the sun rises, the bargain will be over, and you can leave freely, taking with you the memory of your perfect night," he continued.

Rebecca looked at him.

"And if I wanted you to stay?" she asked.

"Then I stay," came the reply.

There was no suggestion in his voice, no expectation. He was simply telling it as it was. He was simply being truthful to the bargain yet leaving the choice to Rebecca.

Rebecca glanced towards the bed, then back at him. She wasn't ready to sleep, not remotely. She hadn't asked for a hotel room because she was ready to turn in. She hadn't asked for a bottle of champagne either, but seeing it there gave her a different idea, an idea she hoped would make the night a little more relaxed and help turn almost perfect into perfect.

"Please come in," she said. "I'm not ready to sleep just yet."

Lucian nodded and stepped inside. The door closed quietly behind him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Rebecca looked towards the champagne sitting beside the window.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked.

"I would."

She picked up the bottle and opened it. The pop of the cork seemed strangely loud in the room, shattering the quiet as if announcing the potential for something significant to happen. She poured two glasses and handed one to Lucian before taking the other for herself. Rebecca walked over to the window and stood there, looking out over London.

"Come and join me," she whispered.

The city seemed impossibly distant from up here. Thousands of people were most likely still going about their lives on the city streets, completely unaware of the woman standing seventeen floors above them who had begun the evening heartbroken and had somehow finished the night drinking champagne with a demon.

Then again, was the night finished? Rebecca smiled at that thought.

"What?" Lucian asked, half looking at her and half searching her thoughts for any sort of clue as to what she was asking of him. And, this time, for some reason, he couldn't make sense of either her expression or what was going on in her mind. He knew there was something, but all he got was a cocktail of mixed emotions, each competing for attention, rather than a single rational thought.

"Nothing," Rebecca said automatically, then caught herself before the bargain had the chance to recognise the untruth. "Well... not exactly nothing."

He looked at her.

She laughed softly.

"I was just thinking about how ridiculous tonight has been," she corrected herself.

"Ridiculous?" he asked.

"Yeah... you know... dinner in Mayfair... almost dancing in Vienna... actually dancing in Paris... running into the sea in the middle of the night...," she explained.

Rebecca shook her head.

"And now this..." she added. "Standing here in wet tights... drinking champagne... with a demon..."

She smiled.

They drank.

They talked.

It felt so easy, so comfortable, so normal, so unlike everything which had happened that night. That was what surprised her most. She had expected the room to feel different once they were alone. Somehow, it didn't.

There was no pressure, no awkwardness. There was no need to fill every silence, no need to explain herself, no need to wonder whether she was saying the right thing. There was just the strange comfort of being with someone who seemed perfectly content to let the conversation wander wherever it wanted.

She looked at Lucian.

"Thank you," she said.

He glanced towards her.

"You've said that already."

"I know... but I mean it," she replied, smiling back at him.

He raised his glass slightly.

"You are more than welcome, Rebecca," he responded.

Rebecca took another sip, then looked back towards the city and its sparkling lights. She could feel her heart beating faster again. The same unexpected nervousness that had followed her onto the beach was back, but this time she understood it.

She wasn't frightened of what she wanted.

She was frightened of saying it.

Rebecca reached for his hand.

"There's just one problem," she said.

Lucian turned towards her.

"Problem?" he asked.

"I told you... the night has been almost perfect," she reminded him of what she had said on the beach.

For the first time that night, Lucian looked genuinely puzzled.

"In all the years I've been doing this," he said, "nobody has ever told me that."

Rebecca smiled.

"Then perhaps nobody has been completely honest with you, and with the bargain," she replied.

His expression changed.

"What more do you want?" he asked, knowing there were still quite a few hours before sunrise, which meant there was still time to put things right.

Rebecca turned towards him.

"I don't want more," she said, her voice soft and low. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."

She placed her now empty glass down.

"Everything I've wanted tonight is already here," she continued. "I mean..."

Rebecca stepped a little closer.

"... the food was wonderful... the dancing was wonderful... the beach..."

She smiled at that memory.

"I've never done anything quite so stupid in my adult life..."

She looked directly into his eyes.

"But none of those things make the perfect night on their own..."

Lucian remained perfectly still.

Rebecca felt her heart beating even harder, practically racing inside.

"... not without... without... you."

His expression changed.

"Me?" he asked.

She smiled nervously.

"Yes... you... I want you to stop asking what I want... because what I want is already here."

She stepped closer until there was almost no space between them. She looked into his eyes for one last moment, giving herself every opportunity to change her mind.

She didn't.

She kissed him.

This time it wasn't the shy, fleeting peck on his cheek that she had given him back in Paris. This time there was no acting on impulse followed by embarrassment. This time there was no retreat after a few seconds. It was longer. It lingered. Rebecca kissed him because she wanted to, pressing her lips softly up against his.

Lucian remained still.

For once, he had no immediate answer.

Rebecca saw something in his expression that she hadn't seen before. There was surprise, certainly, but something else existed too. She couldn't quite pin down what it was, but it made him seem less like the mysterious stranger who had appeared in the bar and more like the man who had spent both the evening and night listening to her, following her choices and refusing to make any of them for her.

"I want you, Lucian," she said.

The words were quiet, spoken softly as if for his ears only.

She squeezed his hand.

"I want you to be with me, to share my night with me," she repeated.

Lucian didn't move.

He didn't need to.

That was enough. Rebecca felt something inside her finally settle. She kissed him once more, a repeat of that soft, sensual caress. And this time, the kiss deepened naturally, without either of them needing to decide exactly what came next. Rebecca slipped one hand around his shoulder and held him closer, suddenly aware that everything she had been trying to articulate all night had become remarkably simple.

She wanted this.

She wanted him.

And, for once, she wasn't going to apologise for either.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 9

The Perfect Night

Rebecca kissed him again.

There was no hesitation now.

Her hands moved slowly over Lucian's manly frame as she nudged his jacket from his shoulders. He allowed it to slip down his arms and fall quietly to the floor. She looked at him for a moment before her fingers found the buttons of his shirt.

One by one, she popped them open. There was something strangely intimate about the simplicity of it. Nothing had been planned. There was no carefully constructed fantasy waiting for them, no script she was expected to follow. Rebecca was simply discovering what she wanted to do and doing it. When finally, enough buttons were undone, she reached inside his shirt and rested both hands against his chest.

His skin was warm.

Beneath her palms, she sensed his heart beating.

The sensation reassured her more than she could explain. All night, she had been conscious of the fact that Lucian was different. He was something she couldn't quite define, something beyond the ordinary rules of the world she understood. He could take her from one country to another in the space of a heartbeat. He could conjure up restaurants, arrange improbable journeys, and make the impossible seem entirely natural.

Yet beneath her hands was a heartbeat, steady and real.

He had called himself a demon, albeit he had been far from demonic. Still, though, she had never imagined that demons had hearts in quite the same way she did. For some reason, knowing that he did, made her feel closer to him.

She pulled back slightly.

There was one thing she needed to know. It wasn't really a question about the bargain at all. It was something much more personal, something that suddenly seemed important now that they had crossed an invisible boundary between fantasy and reality. She wanted to know whether he wanted this too.

The question barely needed to be spoken.

The answer was immediate.

Lucian pulled her back towards him, his arms closing around Rebecca as he kissed her again. The restraint he had maintained throughout the night seemed to loosen, not disappearing entirely but becoming something warmer, something more instinctive.

Rebecca held him tightly. Her heart was pounding, not with fear, but with a mix of excitement and anticipation. She could feel every beat against her ribs, and for perhaps the first time all night what might happen next no longer mattered.

Rebecca wanted it, and that was enough.

Eventually she drew back, breathing just a little faster than before. She could feel the tingle in her lips. She could feel the ache in her loins. She could feel her desires intensifying by the second, her immediate needs outweighing any semblance of sensibility she might have carried into the night.

She glanced towards the switches by the bedroom door.

"Turn the lights off," she whispered.

Lucian didn't ask why. He simply took those few steps away from her, reached for the switch and plunged the room into near darkness.

For a second, Rebecca stared out across the city. Beyond the windows, London remained illuminated, thousands of lights scattered beneath them like twinkling jewels in the dark. Their glow reached faintly into the room, enough to reveal shapes and outlines without taking away the sense of privacy Rebecca had wanted when she had first asked for the hotel. In her mind it was perfect, simply perfect.

She turned back to face Lucian.

Then, without hesitation, she eased down the zip at the side of her dress and slipped the straps from her shoulders. The fabric fell away, tumbling to the floor.              

For a moment, Lucian simply watched.

Rebecca bent to finally remove her damp tights. Slowly, she peeled them down her legs, then tossed them to the floor beside the already discarded dress. When she straightened, she became aware of his gaze again. She was dressed in nothing more than a simple pair of black knickers and a matching bra--after the incident with Tom, and never expecting to be doing anything like this, she hadn't even bothered to change into anything more impactful--but there was no embarrassment this time.

Instead, there was a sense of warmth.

She had spent years imagining how other people might see her, worrying about whether she looked right, whether she was attractive. She was slim without being skinny. She never worked out, unless you classed the likes of yoga and Pilates as a workout, but she looked after herself.

Rebecca never considered herself to have a beautiful body. She always wished she had a little more, both up top and around her hips, giving her those delicious womanly curves. She didn't, and not even the bargain could change that. Of course she would ask, and Tom would always say she looked perfect as she was, but now she knew he had been lying about their relationship, so maybe he was also lying about that too.

To see Lucian there, his gaze transfixed, was surprisingly liberating. He wasn't looking at some carefully constructed version of her. He was looking at her. And from the way he stared, he liked what he saw.

"You're beautiful," he commented.

His voice was quiet. The words hit deep inside, as if spoken directly to her heart. It wasn't because she needed to hear them. It was more because she believed he meant them.

Something changed inside Lucian as he watched her.

He had expected her desire. That was nothing new. He understood desire better than most people ever could. He had witnessed it in countless forms, had watched people use their perfect night to pursue things they had denied themselves for years.

But this felt different.

Rebecca felt different.

He knew the bargain. He knew exactly what it allowed and exactly what it required. Most importantly, he knew that every choice Rebecca had made, had belonged to her. She had changed her mind in Vienna. She had chosen Paris. She had run into the sea. She had brought him into this room. And now she had chosen him.

Yet for the first time, Lucian found himself thinking beyond the bargain. He couldn't ever admit it, but he didn't want the night to end. More unsettling still, he didn't want to lose her when it did. He had never felt that way about any of the others.

Never.

He had always been able to watch the sun rise and let the bargain become a memory. That was the nature of what he did. He gave people a night in which they could discover something about themselves, then allowed them to return to the lives waiting for them.

And all he took in return was the pleasure of knowing they had trusted in him, or at least that was what he told them. You see, the thing with a perfect night was that it was never enough. It was like a carrot, dangling just out of reach. Give someone a taste of exactly what they had always wanted and, sooner or later, they would come back for more. It was human nature.

Once tasted they just couldn't resist.

It was simple.

It was honest.

They gave him their trust, and in return he gave them that one night, that one perfect night. But he knew better than most that it wouldn't end that way. Oh yes, once you had someone's trust, the rest was easy. All they needed was a nudge, a gentle reminder, an unexpected opportunity, and they came running back for seconds. And that was when the price changed.

It was what he did.

It was what he had always done.

Rebecca, though, had somehow slipped beyond that comfortable boundary.

He didn't understand why. He only knew that he wanted to protect what was happening between them, not by changing the bargain, not by influencing her, and certainly not by taking anything she had not chosen to give. Whatever happened before sunrise, Rebecca would remain free to change her mind. The choice would remain hers, and hers alone.

There again, after sunrise was a different story, and that was where the problem lay. If, or more so, when she came back for more, Lucian wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to happen.

Rebecca noticed that he was still watching her.

This time she didn't look away. Instead, something warm and exhilarating spread through her. She had expected embarrassment. She had expected the instinct to cover herself, to laugh nervously, to make some joke that would break the intensity of the moment. None of it came. There was only the growing awareness of the object of his attention.

It was her.

Not the sensible woman she had spent years trying to be, not Tom's ex-girlfriend, not the woman who always knew what was expected of her.

Just her.

Just Rebecca.

And she liked being seen, so much so that, without thinking, she went one step further. The bra was first. She couldn't remember just how often she had hitched and unhitched a bra, but for some reason she fumbled slightly, nerves taking over as she reached for the clasp. It was only for a second or two, a visible outpouring of the emotion pent up inside, but she noticed immediately.

Eventually, she released the clasp, then let the garment fall from her shoulders. She caught it briefly in one hand before dropping it beside the rest of her clothes. She hesitated for only a moment before removing the last barrier, those matching knickers, tossing them also onto the pile of discarded clothes.

There was something almost absurd about how liberating it felt. For years, she had treated her body as something to be assessed, improved, hidden, or compared. She had worried about whether she was attractive enough, whether she had the right shape, whether someone might notice the things she didn't like about herself.

Now she simply stood there, naked, in front of a stranger.

And, as for that stranger, Lucian hadn't moved. His eyes remained fixed on her, but there was something different in his expression now. The confidence that had characterised him all night had been replaced by something much more human, something which could only be described as wonderment.

Rebecca smiled.

It was not a coy smile, nor one intended to tease him. It was simply the smile of a woman who had finally discovered something unexpected. She wasn't being judged. She was simply being... well... admired.

Rebecca turned towards the bed.

For one brief second, she wondered whether she should feel self-conscious. Then she remembered the beach. She remembered running into the cold water with no plan beyond wanting to feel the sand beneath her feet and the sea around her legs. She remembered laughing without caring how ridiculous she looked.

This was no different.

It was just another choice, her choice, nothing more.

She took the few steps across the room and climbed onto the bed, doing nothing to cover up her naked frame as she settled back against the pillows. The city lights continued to flicker beyond the windows, distant and silent, while the room itself seemed to have become a world entirely separate from the London she knew.

She looked back at Lucian. There was a playful impatience in her expression now, a final flicker of the woman who had spent the entire night discovering how much she had forgotten about herself. She beckoned him closer.

Lucian watched her for another moment.

Then, purposefully, he crossed the room.

Her gaze followed him as he took those few steps towards her, and despite everything that had happened that night, she felt a tell-tale flutter in her stomach. Rebecca waited. As he reached the bed, she smiled. She shuffled further back against the pillows, her gaze transfixed on Lucian.

For a moment, he simply stood there. Then he began to undress. His movements were simple, unhurried, with barely a hint of performance within them. His shirt came first, the last couple of buttons easily undone before the garment was eased over his shoulders. His trousers followed soon after and then his socks.

Rebecca watched attentively.

The dim light which took the edge off the darkness traced the contours of his body, revealing the strength which had, until now, remained hidden beneath his clothes. He was everything she might once have imagined if she had allowed herself to dream about the perfect man.

Strong.

Confident.

Handsome.

And standing there, almost in touching distance.

If she had been gazing at him before, admiring his manly, or should it have been demonly, physique for sure Rebecca was now staring. But it wasn't Lucian she was staring at per se. What had grabbed her attention wasn't Lucian himself but rather the single garment he still wore. There he stood, dressed only in a pair of black boxer shorts. And it was those shorts which had caught her attention or, more so, the way they seemed to hang. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, she could sense an obvious bulge inside.

At first, Rebecca just lay there, willing him to go one step further, to remove his own last bastion of modesty just as she had done. He didn't. If anything, he seemed to pause. For perhaps the first time since they had met, he seemed uncertain. He just stood there, gazing down at his would-be naked lover, but never giving her what she most desired.

Rebecca waited.

She wondered why he had stopped.

Then she understood. This was another choice, not just hers, but his as well. The thought surprised her. All night, Lucian had insisted that every decision belonged to her. He had followed her when she changed her mind, listened when she spoke, and never once tried to tell her what she should want.

Now he was doing something else.

He knew what she wanted. Surely, he knew what she wanted. But instead of giving it to Rebecca, he was waiting.

For what?

For her?

And then she heard them, just like back in the bar, words appearing out of nowhere, simply forming in her mind.

'Your night... your choice...'

Rebecca sat up. She fixed her gaze on his face, looking for just a hint that he had said those words rather than her imagining them. All she got was a smile, a knowing smile. It was enough. The very thought sent a shiver of excitement through her and, in no time at all, she had swapped positions.

Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze now somewhere lower.

Her heart was racing.

There were butterflies in her stomach.

She could feel a quiver in her hands.

God, she hadn't felt like this in an eternity. She was so nervous. She was so excited in equal measure. It was just like her first time all over again. Slowly, she reached towards him, running her fingers across the front of his boxers. And, as she did, she stifled a gasp. She had already imagined the bulge within those shorts. It was only now, though, that she realised just how big it was.

Just how big?

Rebecca couldn't resist. She needed to see for herself. In a matter of seconds, she did the unthinkable. She took hold of the waistband of those boxers and eased them down. And this time the gasp was audible. With the gasp, and as she reached out tentatively to touch him, came a sense of trepidation. He wasn't just big. He was huge, fucking huge, and he wasn't even fully hard yet. Then another thought crossed her mind.

He was to be the perfect end to her perfect night.

And, suddenly, that need took over.

She took his hand and gently pulled him towards her.

"Come, Lucian... come lie next to me..." she whispered, shuffling back up the mattress as she spoke, hoping he would simply take the hint.

He did.

There was no hesitation now. Quickly, he joined her on the bed, lying by her side. He leaned across, all the way until their lips met once more. The kiss was deeper than ever. Rebecca wrapped her arms around him and drew him towards her. She held him close, feeling the warmth of his naked frame up against hers as they embraced.

How long had it been? Time seemed to stand still. It no longer seemed relevant. The two lovers just lay there, locked in the most passionate of embraces, squirming on the bed as they kissed. Finally, it was Rebecca who broke that kiss.

The tingle was back.

The ache had returned.

And with that ache came that need, that desire, that most carnal of wishes.

She pulled back just far enough to look at him.

His eyes searched hers, as if looking for an answer. He didn't say a word. He didn't even transmit the question into her mind.

Rebecca knew exactly what he was asking without him needing to, and this time she didn't make him wait. She leaned closer, her lips almost touching his ear. When finally, she spoke, her voice was quiet, breathless, and utterly certain.

"Fuck me, Lucian."

She drew back and looked directly into his eyes.

"Fuck me... like the demon you are."

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Lucian pulled her back into his arms.

Rebecca gave herself to the kiss immediately. His mouth was warm against hers, his body pressed close enough for her to feel the heat of him through every touch. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew him closer, almost impatiently now.

She wanted him.

There was no uncertainty left in that.

Lucian's hands moved slowly over her body, exploring rather than claiming. Every touch seemed to send another pulse of warmth through her. Rebecca responded instinctively, pulling herself towards him, her fingers tightening against his skin.

He kissed her neck.

Rebecca closed her eyes.

His breath was warm against her skin. His lips felt so soft. It was somewhere between a tickle and a stroke. It was, and she never expected to feel it so quickly, stoking something more passionate deep inside. His lips lingered there for a moment before he released her from his arms. Instantly, eyes still closed, Rebecca fell away, lying on the bed by his side, waiting for whatever was to follow.

Lucian moved lower, soft kisses caressing her naked chest, down across the front of her shoulder, stopping only when he reached the small mounds of her breasts. Stopping? Oh no, he didn't stop. He simply paused there, admiring her beauty for a second or two, before caressing her breast with both lips and tongue, teasing at what was an already hard nipple before gently sucking against it.

Rebecca felt herself shiver beneath him.

She had forgotten what it was like to be touched this way, to never quite know what was coming next. Don't get the wrong idea. She'd made out with Tom many a time, but this was different. There was an unpredictability about Lucian. There was also a strength within him which was quickly taking her to another level, a level where she would have gladly given her soul just to feel him inside.

Lucian seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

Worse, he seemed to know exactly what she wanted.

Still caressing her breasts with his mouth, first one then the other, Lucian reached down with one hand. He slid his fingers effortlessly across her midriff, all the way until he was tracing lines through the soft hair covering her mound. And, without hesitation, Rebecca spread her legs ever so slightly, allowing him to continue.

A gasp followed, then another shiver.

It was a simple response to his touch against her sex. It was short lived, replaced very quickly by a different sound, the softest of purred moans accompanied by an ever so slight increase in the speed of her breathing.

She spread her legs just a little wider, hoping he would go that bit further.

Once more, it was like he could read her mind. Gently he rubbed his fingertips over her labia, delving down between her legs and massaging her fleshier folds before coming up once more and focusing in on that spot right above her hidden clit.

He had done nothing other than touch her, but it felt so damn good, almost electric, and all too quickly her body was betraying her true feelings. The ache inside had become a smouldering fire. She could sense the dampness down below. She could feel his every touch as he applied just a fraction more pressure, continuing to rub his fingers against her sex, drawing what were now firm circles across her labia, easing her lips ever so slowly apart.

She gasped, as she first felt his touch against her tender inner folds.

She purred as he ran a finger along their length, all the way from opening to clit and back again.

And then... then...

This time the reaction was more audible, the gasp becoming almost a squeal as she stiffened against his touch. It was slow. It was steady. It wasn't exactly painful. It simply took her by surprise as he slipped a finger inside.

For a moment, Lucian paused, his finger encapsulated in warmth, resting just inside her tight opening.

She opened her eyes. Her gaze met his. She could see in his eyes that he was waiting for something, maybe for her.

Rebecca smiled.

"Please, Lucian... don't stop," she whispered.

As if to reinforce that message, she reached down and took hold of his hand, pulling it against her, sliding that finger just a little deeper inside. And then, she turned her attention to what was, by now, an almost fully hard erection.

Slowly, she started to run her hand up and down his shaft, feeling him grow ever so slightly, thickening out under her grip, hardening to her touch. In no time at all, she was holding what could only be described as a rod of steel, a huge rod of steel.

Lucian didn't stop. Almost in time to the way she was now stroking his cock, he started to move that finger, easing it out before sinking it back in, adding just a little more depth each time. And as he worked her, almost imperceptibly, he focused in on her opening, gently working her until the tightness gave just a little. He leaned forward, he kissed her again, first on the lips and then once more against her neck.

Rebecca started to relax once more, and as she relaxed, so those smouldering embers flickered into life.

She had never felt quite like this.

She wasn't simply aroused.

She was alive.

Every nerve seemed awake. Every breath felt warmer than the last. She could feel the tension building inside her, a delicious anticipation that made her tremble with desire. And then she said it, the words leaving her mouth before she even had time to consider what she was asking.

"I want you... I want to feel you... inside..." Rebecca whispered.

Lucian looked into her eyes again.

Rebecca saw the question there, that final ask looking for confirmation. She answered it by kissing him, harder this time, with more of a sense of urgency. There was something intoxicating about the way he responded. The man who had spent the entire night watching her make every decision now seemed to be struggling with his own restraint, and the very thought thrilled her.

She wanted him.

She wanted to be wanted by him.

Rebecca pulled him closer, guiding him towards her. And as he moved, slowly, carefully climbing on top, she spread her legs, as far as she could. She held her breath. She waited to feel his touch once more, not the touch of his fingers, but the touch of something larger, something stronger, something ultimately more satisfying.

Rebecca gasped.

She could feel him, resting right against her opening. The instinct was to stiffen, fearful of his size, wondering if she could even take him. Repeatedly, she told herself to relax, that it would be fine, that she had done it before. But, she hadn't, not with one this size, and that thought both thrilled and terrified her. And then, out of nowhere, she heard the words, his words, simply floating into her mind.

'Don't worry... I'll go slowly... I promise you...'

She felt him lean over her, his weight pressing down against her naked frame.

She felt his lips meet hers once more and they kissed again, the kiss bringing a renewed passion to their embrace.

She felt--

A muffled squeal left her lips. She had been so focused on the kiss that she hadn't even noticed him moving, not as he flexed his hips slightly, nor as the pressure built down below. It was only as he sank beyond her opening, his head reaching its widest point before slipping inside, that she reacted to what had just happened.

At first, it was shock, strained shock as she felt the stretch in her opening, his head widening with every push. Shock soon gave way to surprise and that wonderful feeling of submission, as pressure gave way to fullness. And, soon enough, both morphed into elation, elation that she had taken him, elation that he had wanted to take her.

For what seemed an eternity but was probably only a matter of seconds, he was still. He simply lay there, on top of her, naked warmth against naked warmth, his manhood now impaled within her tightness.

Still, they kissed.

Still, they embraced.

And, all the time, she became accustomed to the feeling inside, a fullness more than she had ever encountered before. It was Rebecca who finally broke the kiss, pulling back, reaching up to his ear with her mouth, and whispering softly to him.

"Fuck me, Lucian... fuck me... do it... make me cum."

Nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said. Her request was clear, and his job now was to do nothing other than to satisfy that ask. Slowly at first, but quickly picking up both speed and length, he did exactly what had been asked of him.

He fucked her.

Rebecca lost herself in the sensation of him, in the warmth of his body, in the feel of his movements and the fires now burning brightly deep inside. The city beyond the windows disappeared completely. The night in its entirety dissolved away into this one moment. All that remained was the bed beneath her, Lucian on top of her and the growing intensity between them.

She had spent years believing desire was something that had to be controlled.

Tonight, she discovered that it could simply be felt.

And she was feeling all of it, every single inch.

Eyes closed, she allowed herself to be consumed in a single night of pure unadulterated passion. It wasn't sensible. It wasn't at all what a woman like Rebecca should have been doing. It was, though, totally exhilarating. And the scream which soon filled the room simply confirmed that her ask had been met in a way she could never have imagined.

Was it the demon in him?

Was it the devil in her?

Rebecca didn't know.

For once, she didn't need to know.

She had spent years worrying about consequences. Tonight, she had finally allowed herself to want something simply because she wanted it. And, as the night carried her beyond anything she had ever allowed herself to want, Rebecca knew one thing with absolute certainty.

She had chosen this.

And she didn't regret a thing, not a single thing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 10

The Price of Trust

Rebecca woke slowly.

For several seconds she had no idea where she was.

The room was dark, not completely black, but dark enough not to immediately recognise her surroundings. The faint glow of London reached through the windows, but there was no suggestion of dawn yet. The city beyond the windows was little more than scattered points of light.

Rebecca lay still.

She was naked and lying in a strange bed, in a strange room. The sheets were warm beneath her. The room was quiet. Somewhere outside, traffic moved along a road she could not see. Slowly, ever so slowly, memories started to return.

Tom.

The restaurant.

The dancing.

The beach.

The sea.

The champagne.

The hotel room.

Lucian.

Her stomach tightened when that final memory landed. She remembered the way she had felt when she brought him inside and the certainty with which she had chosen him. More than that, she remembered the strange freedom of knowing that, for once, she could want something without immediately asking herself what it would cost.

She remembered everything, and that was the problem. Rebecca turned her head, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she did. She scanned the room as if looking for something, or maybe someone.

Lucian was sitting on a chair beside the window. He was fully dressed again, his jacket resting across his lap. He looked completely at ease, as though he had simply been waiting for her to wake.

Rebecca stared at him.

"You stayed?" she asked.

"Yes," came the simple reply.

She pushed herself upright and pulled the sheet around her. After all they had done the night before, she wasn't sure why she was doing it, but suddenly she felt the need to cover up her nudity.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"I don't know," came the reply.

The answer surprised her. Rebecca glanced towards the windows and the still open curtains.

"Is it morning?" she asked.

"No."

She waited. Everything about Lucian seemed to work according to rules she did not understand. Rebecca looked around the room. Her clothes had been left where they had fallen. Her shoes were beside the chair. The champagne bottle was still there, with two empty glasses nearby.

Nothing had changed.

And yet, everything had changed.

She looked back at Lucian.

"What happens now?" she asked.

Lucian said nothing.

Rebecca felt irritation rising inside her.

"Don't do that!" she exclaimed.

"Do what?" he asked.

"You know... that thing where you sit there looking at me as though you already know what I'm going to say," she answered.

His expression remained calm.

He did not argue.

That made her angrier.

Rebecca climbed out of bed and found a robe. She pulled it around herself, tying it tightly before sitting on the edge of the mattress. Then she turned to him.

"You knew," she said.

Lucian watched her.

"Knew what?" he asked.

"This!" she exclaimed, gesturing towards the room. "All of it..."

He remained silent.

"The restaurant... the dancing... Paris... the beach... this room... me..." she continued.

She stopped.

"Especially me," she added.

Lucian looked down briefly before meeting her eyes again.

"I knew what was possible," he replied.

"That's not an answer!" she exclaimed.

"It's the truth," he responded.

Rebecca laughed quietly. She walked towards the window. She stared out into the darkness, just as she had done when they first reached the room. And just as before, beyond them, London continued existing without her, unaware of the strange night that had taken place seventeen floors above its streets. She touched the windowpane, half expecting it to give way beneath her fingers, like she had woken within another dream. It didn't. All she felt was the chill of glass.

"You knew exactly what I needed," she said.

"I knew what you asked for," he corrected.

"No!" she snapped.

She turned towards him, a look of ferocity in her expression.

"You knew what I needed... exactly what I needed," she continued. "You knew I was hurt. You knew Tom had cheated on me. You knew I was angry and upset and looking for something to take my mind off it."

He nodded.

"And then you appeared," she continued.

He nodded again.

"You offered me exactly what I needed... a perfect night... and you knew where it would lead... tell me... you knew!" she added.

Lucian's expression changed almost imperceptibly.

"I knew where it might lead," he responded.

Rebecca folded her arms.

"That's convenient, don't you think... and... did you just expect me to trust you?" she asked, her frustration growing by the second.

He paused.

"Yes."

There it was. There was no denial, no attempt to soften his response. He had just admitted to what she was now accusing him of. And with that admission, Rebecca felt something twist inside her.

"So that was the point of all this... you just expected my trust," she responded.

"Partly," he admitted.

Rebecca looked away. She had wanted him to deny it. She had wanted him to tell her that none of this had been planned, that he had simply wanted her to have a good night, that everything between them had happened spontaneously and naturally. Instead, he had admitted that this was all about gaining her trust.

"Why?" she asked.

Lucian remained silent for several seconds.

"Because trust has value."

The words chilled her. How could he monetarise a quality such as trust? It didn't carry value. And then another thought crossed her mind. She assumed he was monetarising her trust. He was a demon though, and what if the value was something different, something she really didn't want to be considering? And, still, she found herself asking.

"What kind of value?"

"The kind that cannot be bought... the kind that can only be earned... the kind that can only be freely given..." he responded, never quite answering the question.

Rebecca stared at him. She shook her head. He was becoming infuriating again. There was something he wasn't admitting, of that, she was sure. Rebecca walked towards him, and all the time she could feel her blood boil.

"You manipulated me!" she exclaimed.

"No."

The answer came immediately.

She stopped, amazed by the abruptness in that reply.

"Okay... I admit that I helped to guide the evening," he added.

Rebecca stared at him.

"Guide?" she asked. "That's a nice word for it."

"It's an accurate one," he replied.

What followed was a kind of tit-for-tat, playing question off against response as Rebecca fired away at him.

"You chose the restaurant..." she snapped.

"You chose the cuisine," he replied, calmly.

"You took me dancing..." she countered.

"You asked to dance," he replied.

"You took me to Paris..." she continued.

"You didn't want the first place," he simply responded.

Rebecca remembered the ballroom, the music, the feeling of awkwardness and then the disappointment when she had realised it wasn't what she wanted. She remembered Paris, the jazz, the freedom. She remembered choosing to dance. She remembered asking Lucian to join her. He had followed. He had never once told her what she should want. That was what made this so difficult.

Rebecca shook her head.

"You knew what I would choose," she tried to change her approach.

"No."

"You knew I would change my mind," she continued.

"No."

"You knew I would kiss you," she added.

"No."

"You knew I would want you!" she exclaimed.

Lucian held her gaze.

"No."

She stared at him.

"Then what did you know?" she asked.

"I knew that you were free to choose whatever you wanted," he answered.

Rebecca laughed.

"That's so very convenient," she commented.

"It is also true," he repeated.

"You keep saying that," she commented.

"Because it remains true," he responded, never once raising his voice despite her continued outburst.

Rebecca turned away. She wanted to be angry with him. She wanted the entire night to become a lie so that she could dismiss it, put it behind her and return to her ordinary world with a simple explanation. Something was stopping her.

The dinner had been real.

The dancing had been real.

The beach had been real.

The laughter had been real.

And the way she had felt with him had been real.

That was the part she now hated most.

"You could have stopped me," she tried a different angle.

"Yes," he responded.

"You could have told me where this was going," she continued, feeling that she had finally found a crack in his impenetrable armour.

"Where did you think it was going?" he asked, turning the conversation back on Rebecca.

Rebecca opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She wanted to try and justify how she felt, but there lay the problem. She had known, perhaps not at the beginning, perhaps not even halfway through the encounter, but by the time they had entered the hotel room, she had known exactly what she wanted. She had chosen it. She had chosen him. And she could not make it disappear simply because she was frightened by what it meant.

Rebecca looked towards the floor.

"Did you ever intend to stop me?" she asked, a sudden calmness in her voice.

Lucian considered the question.

"If you had wanted me to stop you, I would have stopped you," he replied.

"But you wouldn't have stopped me yourself?" she asked.

"No."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it wasn't my choice," came a quite unexpected answer. "It was yours."

She looked up at Lucian.

There was no defensiveness in his face. He wasn't attempting to win the argument. He wasn't asking her to forgive him. He wasn't even asking her to understand. He was simply telling her what he believed to be true.

Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed.

She thought back to how this had all started, and the mysterious card.

ONE PERFECT NIGHT.

NO CONSEQUENCES.

YOUR CHOICE.

She had believed those words. She had trusted them. She had even bought into the terms of the bargain. God, she had been so foolish, and perhaps that was what frightened her the most: how easily she had been taken in by him.

"You wanted my trust... and now you've got it," she commented, a sense of resignation to her tone.

Lucian didn't answer.

Rebecca stared at him.

"Do you understand what I am saying?" she continued.

Finally, he met her eyes.

"I don't know," he replied.

That answer surprised her or, rather, the uncertainty which came with that answer.

"You don't know whether I trust you?" she asked.

"No," came the reply.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because only you can answer that question... and only after you leave this room... when the bargain is over," he responded.

The words stayed with her. Rebecca looked towards the window again. The city was still dark outside. Dawn had not arrived yet, nor was it close to sunrise. Outside was just darkness and thousands of distant lights. She remembered what he had said earlier in the night, that everything was her choice. At the time, she had found the idea intoxicating. Now it felt much heavier.

Rebecca looked down at her hands.

"I don't know if I believe you," she commented.

Lucian nodded.

"I know."

"You don't seem surprised," she added.

"I'm not."

"You aren't going to try to convince me?" she asked.

"No," came the reply. "Because if I convinced you, it wouldn't be your choice."

Rebecca looked at him.

That was the answer she had been expecting, and somehow it was the answer that unsettled her the most. She had spent the entire evening being given choices. Now she was being given another one, whether to believe him, whether to trust him, whether to regret the night, whether to walk away or even whether to come back for more. The questions, or rather the answers to those questions, all belonged to her.

She looked towards the empty champagne glasses and the pile of discarded clothes.

"I don't regret everything," she commented.

Lucian said nothing.

"I don't regret dancing."

Nothing.

"I don't regret running through the sea."

Still nothing.

Rebecca hesitated.

"And I don't regret you."

Something changed in Lucian's expression. It was only for a moment and then it was gone. Rebecca noticed it anyway. She wasn't sure what it meant, but she had noticed the reaction.

"Is the bargain over?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied. "Not unless you decide it is."

She looked at him.

Rebecca frowned.

"I thought it ended at dawn," she commented.

"It does," came the reply.

"Then why say that?" she asked, confused.

"Because the night isn't over yet and dawn hasn't arrived," he replied, stating the obvious.

She looked towards the window once more. She really didn't need to as she knew he was right, but it felt right. And, yes, it was still dark. She had no idea how much time remained. For once, she did not ask.

Lucian stood.

He picked up his jacket.

Rebecca watched him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Leaving."

She frowned.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you don't know whether you trust me."

Rebecca stared at him.

He walked towards the door.

Rebecca followed him with her eyes. She felt an unexpected emptiness at the thought of him leaving. She almost called him back. Almost. Then she remembered what he had said.

Everything was her choice.

She had chosen him once.

She could choose him again.

Or she could choose not to.

Lucian reached the door. His hand rested on the handle. He looked back at her. For a moment, neither spoke. There was no dramatic goodbye. There was no promise, nor any demand. There was no final attempt to persuade her that the night had been real. He had given her his answers. Whether she believed them was hers to decide.

Rebecca looked at him.

"You're just going to leave?" she asked.

"Yes."

She waited for him to say something else.

He didn't.

He opened the door and stepped through into the quiet of the corridor beyond. Then he stopped. For one brief moment, he looked back at her.

"Whatever you decide, Rebecca, make sure it is yours," he added.

Then he left.

The door closed softly behind him.

Rebecca remained standing in the middle of the hotel room. She looked towards the window. It was still dark. There was still no dawn, no sunrise. She looked at the bed, at the empty glasses, at the clothes scattered around the room, at the place where Lucian had been standing only moments before.

Then she looked at her own reflection in the dark glass.

For the first time all night, there was nobody telling her what came next.

There was no demon... no bargain... no perfect night...

There was just Rebecca, and whatever choice she decided to make.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 11

The Price of Return

Rebecca remained sitting on the end of the bed long after Lucian had gone. She watched the door close softly behind him, then walked to the bed and sat there. She didn't move. She just stared at the door; her gaze fixed on the handle.

Part of her expected him to return.

Part of her wanted him to.

He didn't.

Minutes passed. She had no idea where he had gone or why. Eventually, the obvious dawned on her. Lucian wasn't coming back, not now, and maybe never. It was a realisation which hit her harder than even Rebecca had expected. Not only was the bargain ending, but so was her time with Lucian, and she hated that it had to end like this.

She thought about everything they had said, not just the argument itself, but also the way he had answered every point she had raised. He had been calm. He had never raised his voice. He had never seemed frustrated, even if she had found him quite infuriating at times.

And, that was the problem.

To Rebecca, he had rarely given her a straight answer when she had wanted one. He had spoken in half-answers and carefully crafted distinctions. He had allowed her to interpret what had been said, and to draw conclusions on what it meant, without always correcting her if she got it wrong. But now, sitting alone in the darkness, Rebecca began to see something she hadn't allowed herself to see before.

When she considered what had been said, he had never actually lied to her, not once. He had been deliberately vague when he could have been clearer, but vague wasn't the same as dishonest.

When she had asked whether she could leave, he had told her she could.

When she had asked whether she could change her mind, he had told her she could.

When she had asked whether the choices were hers, he had said yes.

And when she had accused him of knowing where the night might lead, he had admitted that he did. He had never promised that he didn't know. He had never claimed that he was simply another stranger caught up in the evening. He had never told her that he didn't understand what she was doing. He had simply allowed her to choose, sometimes without really knowing where she wanted to go but never attempting to change her choice. That was the one thing he had promised, and on that point, at least, he had been honest.

Every choice made had been hers.

Rebecca closed her eyes.

That realisation felt somehow worse than if she had discovered he was lying to her. If he had lied, she could have hated him. Instead, she was left with something much more uncomfortable. She had to examine herself, and what those choices really meant.

She opened her eyes again.

Her coat was lying on the chair. Rebecca stood and crossed the room. She picked it up and reached into the pockets, a sense of urgency growing as she searched each in turn. And, finally, she found it, the card. She pulled it out. For a moment she simply stared at it.

It no longer looked the way it had earlier.

The colours had faded. The lettering that had once seemed impossibly bright had become dull, almost washed out. Even the strange magical quality that had surrounded the card when she had first encountered it seemed to have disappeared.

The words were still there...

ONE PERFECT NIGHT

NO CONSEQUENCES

YOUR CHOICE

Except they didn't look permanent anymore. They looked tired. They looked, and this was quite absurd, like they were dying. Rebecca sat back down on the bed, holding the card carefully between her fingers.

She remembered finding it on the counter in the bar.

She remembered the first time she had read her name, and then when those words appeared. At the time, they had seemed like an invitation, maybe a promise, perhaps even a challenge. Now they seemed almost like a description of everything that had happened that night or rather everything she had wanted to happen.

She had wanted distraction.

She had wanted freedom.

She had wanted to feel something other than anger.

She had wanted to escape the life that suddenly existed after Tom's betrayal.

And Lucian had given her the opportunity to do exactly that.

But now Rebecca wondered whether that had ever been the real purpose. Perhaps the perfect night had never been the point. Perhaps even Lucian had never really been the point. Perhaps the point was much closer to home.

She looked down at the fading card.

The bargain had given her permission to want things, things she normally wouldn't have asked for, things she would have normally said were just not sensible. She had spent so much of her ordinary life being careful, but the night had been different. The night had forced her to ask, and every time she had asked, something had happened.

Rebecca stared at the card.

She thought deeply about that statement, that every time she had asked, something had happened. And as she considered its meaning, she realised it had nothing to do with Lucian. All he had done was give her the opportunity, an opportunity that Rebecca had finally had the courage to take.

For once in her life, she had said what she wanted, and that in itself was the lesson from her perfect night. It wasn't dinner. It wasn't dancing. It wasn't even the beach or the hotel, and definitely not that she could trust Lucian.

The real lesson was much simpler.

The real lesson was that she needed to learn to ask for herself, to take the risk of saying what she wanted instead of endlessly putting everyone else first, just in case she made a mistake.

Rebecca smiled.

There was something rather ironic in the simplicity of the lesson, and the trust which went with it. She had spent most of her life trusting in her own sensibility, even when the people around her hadn't always done the same. She had been the sensible one, the reliable one, the person who thought about tomorrow before allowing herself to enjoy today. Yet, for one night, she had put her trust in a demon. And somehow, it had been that demon who had shown her something she had kept hidden away for far too long.

Her own wants.

Her own choices.

Her own voice.

It was only a brief smile, a moment where she allowed herself to simply think of Rebecca. All too soon the smile disappeared. And in its place came another question, one she hadn't asked. Rebecca looked towards the door again.

Would she see him again?

The question seemed absurd, and perhaps that was why it frightened her. She had asked for almost everything she could imagine, everything except that. She had never asked whether Lucian would still be there after the bargain ended. She had never asked whether this was the only night they would ever share. And now, perhaps, it was too late.

Rebecca looked at the card again.

The first hint of light seeped in through the windows.

Dawn was upon her.

She walked over to the window and stared out across the city as the darkness beyond slowly ebbed away. The lights of London seemed less vivid now. The sky was becoming lighter. Rebecca looked back at the card. The colours were fading faster now. The words began to disappear.

ONE PERFECT NIGHT.

The first line dimmed.

NO CONSEQUENCES.

The second faded after it.

YOUR CHOICE.

The letters seemed to lose their strength one by one.

Rebecca held her breath.

The card was returning to black. It wasn't damaged. It was just reverting to how she had found it, a simple black card. Then she noticed something. One word remained, REBECCA, her name. It had faded almost to nothing, but it was still visible.

She stared at it.

The first pale light touched the room.

And then, that too began to fade.

She didn't need anyone to tell her. She knew. It was dawn, and the bargain was over. Rebecca placed the card down carefully on the table by the champagne bottle. It had, somehow, served its purpose.

She returned to the window and stood completely still for a few seconds, staring out across the city. Morning had arrived. And somewhere in London, Rebecca believed, Lucian was gone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lucian sat alone on a stone bench beside the Thames.

The hotel stood behind him, far enough away that he couldn't be seen, close enough that he didn't forget about the woman on floor seventeen. He sat there watching as London started to wake.

The river moved steadily in front of him. A boat slowly chugged downstream. The dark water caught fragments of the morning light. Early morning joggers meandered along the embankment. Ordinary life was beginning again.

Lucian barely noticed, and nobody noticed him in return. His mind was somewhere else, his thoughts still on a certain hotel room and a certain conversation. That hadn't exactly come as a surprise. He had seen it many times before, the guilt, the doubt, the sudden need to find somebody to blame.

It happened almost every time. Some people were better at it than others. Some, a very small few, simply accepted what they had chosen. The majority searched desperately for someone else to blame. Sometimes it was themselves. Sometimes it was the bargain. Mostly it was him. But it always happened, the morning after the perfect night.

Lucian gazed out across the river.

The problem was that he knew what came next. That was what now consumed his thoughts. After the bargain came the price. They always asked what happened when the bargain ended. They never asked what happened after, and he never told them.

He always left that final question unanswered.

It was, after all, another choice to be made.

They could walk away. They could return to their ordinary lives. They could remember the night as something strange and impossible that had happened once, then never speak of it again. That was the bit he had been truthful about.

Or they could come back.

And that was the important part, the part they never asked about.

If they returned willingly, the terms changed. The bargain was no longer simply an experience they had accepted for one night. It became a debt, and Lucian was free to collect what was rightfully his.

Their souls.

There again, it wasn't so much that he was free to collect but rather that he was obliged to collect. All debts had to be settled, especially these. If truth be known, he had never enjoyed that part. He hated the moment when the choice finally became a debt. He hated the look in their eyes when they finally understood what that price was, and what they had actually surrendered.

But he was a demon, and that was what demons did.

There were rules.

There were bargains.

There were prices.

And he could always tell himself that he had given them what he promised, one perfect night, no consequences, whatever they wanted. He had given them a night they would remember for the rest of their lives, even if, for most of them, it was the last thing they ever truly enjoyed. He didn't enjoy that part, but he had made peace with it a very long time ago, or at least he had convinced himself that he had.

But Rebecca was different.

He didn't know exactly why, and that was the problem. He had expected the guilt. He had expected the anger. He had expected her to blame him. She was that type. The thought irritated him. It was too easy to reduce them all to types, to patterns, to predictable responses. It made what happened afterwards easier to tolerate, but it was rather impersonal, especially after such a wonderful night together.

What he hadn't expected from Rebecca, though, was the way she had started by questioning everything, but eventually stopped asking what he had done to her and started questioning what she had done herself.

Most of them never reached that point.

They wanted someone to blame.

Rebecca had wanted an explanation.

There was a difference.

Lucian simply gazed out across the river. He thought about the moment she had told him she didn't regret him. He had felt something then, something he hadn't expected, something he didn't particularly want.

He had ignored it.

Perhaps he shouldn't have.

Perhaps he had been wrong about her.

Perhaps the bargain had not ended the way he thought it would.

Lucian smiled faintly, not because he was amused. He knew what was expected of him. He had no option but to do what he needed to do, however uncomfortable he felt about it.

Rebecca had made her choices.

Now there was only one question left.

Would she make another?

Lucian remained on the bench, watching the first light of morning illuminate the city. For once, he found himself hoping that she would revert to type, becoming sensible once more, and that Rebecca wouldn't come back. If she did, he wasn't sure what he would have to do, and that frightened him more than anything else.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 12

One Honest Life

Rebecca left the hotel room early.

There seemed little point in staying any longer. Whatever had happened during the night was over, and sitting around waiting wasn't going to change that.

She took a quick shower, trying her best to freshen up, then dressed in the same outfit she had arrived in, minus the still-damp tights. She grabbed her coat, slipping the tights into one pocket, and gave the room one final look. It was as she was checking that she hadn't left anything behind that she noticed the card.

She wasn't entirely sure why she picked it up. Perhaps it was simply the fact that she had carried it with her all night. Perhaps some part of her still expected it to change again. She turned it over in her hand. Both sides were now perfectly black. There was no lettering, no colour, no strange warmth. There was nothing at all to suggest that it had ever been anything other than an ordinary piece of card.

Rebecca studied it for a few seconds longer before slipping it into the other pocket of her coat. Maybe it served as a reminder, or simply something she wasn't quite ready to throw away. She didn't know why she had kept it, but it seemed appropriate.

She left the room and made her way down to reception. It was only as she stepped out of the lift that another thought occurred to her. When they had checked in, there had been no questions asked. Now, however, as she approached the reception desk, she wondered whether checking out might be different.

Had Lucian arranged everything?

Or had he somehow managed to give her an extraordinary night and leave her with the rather less extraordinary responsibility of paying for a luxury hotel room? Rebecca hadn't taken him for that sort of man. That said, after everything else that had happened, perhaps she shouldn't make too many assumptions. Still, it really would have been the icing on the cake to pick up a bill for what she imagined would be hundreds.

She approached the counter.

"I'd like to check out... room 1702," she said, smiling at the receptionist.

The woman looked up from her screen.

"Of course, Ms Mercer. How was your stay?"

For a moment, Rebecca didn't know what to say. She stared back at the receptionist, searching her expression for some hidden meaning. After all, she had arrived late the previous evening with a strange man, and now she was leaving alone. It would have been easy enough for someone to put two and two together and somehow make five.

But perhaps that was simply Rebecca's own guilty conscience talking. There was nothing unusual about checking out of a hotel alone, nothing that needed explaining.

"Fine," she said eventually. "Yes... everything was fine."

The receptionist smiled and returned her attention to the computer.

"That's good to hear. Now, let's see..."

Rebecca waited.

The receptionist clicked through a couple of screens.

"Yes," she said eventually. "Everything is already paid for."

Inside, Rebecca breathed a quiet sigh of relief. That was one hurdle cleared.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Just one thing, Ms Mercer," the receptionist added.

Rebecca stopped. The relief she had felt a moment earlier instantly disappeared. She looked back at the receptionist, already fearing the worst. Had she been seen? Had somebody complained? Was there a problem?

"Your room had breakfast included, and I can see you haven't taken it."

The receptionist smiled.

"Would you like to before you leave?"

Rebecca stared at her for a second. Breakfast? It was such an ordinary question. Yet, after the night she had just experienced, the sheer normality of it seemed almost surreal. Then she smiled.

"I guess... yes. Why not," Rebecca replied.

The receptionist gestured towards the restaurant.

Rebecca thanked her and walked away. For the first time since waking, she found herself smiling properly. Perhaps breakfast was exactly what she needed, something ordinary, something real, something well... sensible.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rebecca headed home in silence.

The city had already settled into its daytime rhythm by the time she reached her destination. The extraordinary night was becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile with the ordinary morning around her. Nothing had changed and yet everything had.

Rebecca stood at the end of her street for a moment before walking the few doors down to where she lived. She looked at the front door of her house. And as she did, she felt a hint of contentment somewhere inside. Whatever had happened between yesterday and today, she had come through it, and now she was back where she belonged.

She was home, and that felt somewhat reassuring.

Eventually, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Tom was there. He was sitting in the living room, a living room which, with its closed curtains, hadn't woken to the new day outside. He was still wearing the same clothes that she remembered from the evening before which probably suggested he had never left. For a moment neither of them spoke. Rebecca had imagined this moment countless times during the journey home, and just how she might handle it if it did arise.

In some versions, she had screamed.

In others, she had cried.

She had imagined anger, accusations, explanations, and desperate apologies. None of them seemed appropriate now, not after what had happened during her extraordinary night.

Tom stood.

"Becky," he started tentatively, his voice trailing off as he waited for some sort of reaction.

She looked at him. She had imagined him either being angry or devastated. He was neither. He seemed tired, just tired. She realised, with some surprise, that she didn't feel angry either. And as for the devastation, in the moment that didn't matter, she knew what she needed to do.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I hoped you might come back," he replied.

She nodded.

"Well... here I am... back," she responded, trying to keep as calm as she could.

He looked at her for a moment, recognising the dress she had gone out in.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

Rebecca almost smiled. It was a perfectly reasonable question, and yet there was no answer she could give him. She could hardly say she had spent the night with a demon. He wouldn't believe it, and it wouldn't make any difference anyway. All it would do was pour fuel on the fire if he knew she had spent the night with Lucian, especially after what he had done to her. Cheated on him? No, in her mind she had already said it was over, so Rebecca wasn't exactly cheating even if she had gotten into bed with Lucian.

"I needed some time," she replied, heading off to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of much-needed water.

Tom looked towards the kitchen, waiting for her return.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

Rebecca nodded.

She sat down in an armchair and watched as Tom took his place back on the sofa. And then they did just that. They talked. There was no dramatic confrontation. There were no raised voices. There were, and this was maybe the biggest surprise, no accusations. For once, neither of them seemed interested in winning.

Tom spoke first.

"I know I've made a mess of things," he explained. "I didn't know how to tell you."

"You should have told me," Rebecca said.

"I know," he agreed.

She nodded. There wasn't anything else to add. The silence between them felt surprisingly comfortable. Rebecca looked around the room. She knew every object in it. They were reminders of the life they had built together, the memories they had collected. They were, now, seemingly redundant.

She looked back at Tom.

"I don't want to do this anymore," she said, her tone calm and collected.

She continued to look at Tom, studying him, waiting for his reaction. He knew exactly what she meant. She could see it in his face. Yet still he asked the obvious question.

"Us?"

"Yes," she replied.

Tom nodded slowly.

Rebecca took a breath.

"I don't hate you," she continued. "I'm not even sure I'm angry with you anymore."

Tom looked at her.

"Then what are you?" he asked.

Rebecca considered the question for a moment then gave a very simple reply.

"Finished."

The word was quiet, but it felt right. It was clear. It was unambiguous. It was inherently final. For a while neither of them spoke. Then he nodded.

"Okay," he replied.

Rebecca expected to feel something, maybe relief, perhaps sadness, even guilt that it had come to this. Instead, she felt strangely calm.

Tom stood.

"I guess I'd better get my things," he commented.

Rebecca nodded.

She watched him walk upstairs. A few minutes later she heard drawers being opened then closed. It was surprisingly uneventful. There were no slammed doors. There was no final argument, no last attempt to repair something that had already been broken. When Tom eventually came downstairs carrying a bag, he stopped near the front door.

He looked at Rebecca.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Rebecca nodded.

"Yes."

He hesitated for a moment, as if preparing to say something, and then he left. The door closed behind him, pulled shut gently rather than being slammed, and that was that.

Rebecca stood in the hallway. She waited for the sadness. It came, but it wasn't overwhelming. It was simply the brief recognition that something was over.

She turned and looked around the house again.

For years she had thought of this place as home, their home. They had made the place into what it was together, and somehow, somewhere along the way, it had stopped feeling that it belonged to her. To be honest, it hadn't had the same feel for several months, and now she understood why.

Rebecca walked towards the curtains. She opened them. Morning sunlight flooded into the room. The difference was astonishing. The room seemed larger, more welcoming, more alive. And, as the room came to life, so did Rebecca.

She moved through the house. Tom might have gone, but his belongings were everywhere. There was a jacket over the back of a chair, a pair of shoes beside the stairs, books on a shelf, even a charger plugged into the wall. They were little things, ordinary things, the sort you wouldn't pick up in a hurry.

She grabbed a dustbin bag and began collecting them, not with any intent to dispose of his things, but simply to give him the chance to collect them if he still wanted them. It was strange, but for some reason she didn't feel any sense of malice towards Tom. What had happened, had happened. There was no point going back over it, that would only have made it worse. And now, all that was left was to make this place her home again.

And with every item she collected, the house felt like it had changed ever so slightly.

Rebecca went into the kitchen. She filled the kettle and made herself a drink. For some reason, the simple act made her smile. All she had done was make a mug of coffee, but it carried more weight than she ever would have imagined. She hadn't done it for Tom, because he wanted one, because it was expected of her to make him one. She had made it just because she wanted coffee.

She carried the mug into the living room and sat down.

She glanced around the place.

Already, it felt different. No, that wasn't right. The house hadn't changed at all--okay, so most of his belongings had gone--what had changed was Rebecca. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though something had lifted. She never knew quite what it was, but she felt more certain about herself, and about the life she had ahead of her, without Tom.

Her eyes fell upon the coat she had left near the door, the same one she had worn the night before. It brought back memories, of the bar, of the stranger, of the card. The card? She stood and picked up the coat. Rebecca reached inside the pocket. Her fingers closed around something familiar. She pulled it out, then hung the coat up neatly on a rack.

For a moment, Rebecca just stood there, looking at the card.

She had watched it fade to black in the hotel, and that was what she saw now, a simple rectangle of blackness. Rebecca turned it over. It was just the same, a simple black card, nothing more than a memory of the strangest night. She placed it down on the mantelpiece over the fireplace, and went back to her coffee, thinking nothing more about the card, nor about that night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The following morning, after spending a much more sensible night at home, Rebecca noticed the card once more. She picked it up and stared at it. It had changed. Where there had been black before, now there were words, simple white lettering against the black.

Her name was back and beneath it were three simple words.

ONE HONEST LIFE

Rebecca smiled.

It wasn't much, but it seemed perfect. The words made her think about the night again, but this time she saw it differently. It hadn't really been about the evening itself, or the extraordinary experiences, or even Lucian. It had been about her, about Rebecca finally being honest with herself. And now she was beginning to understand what that meant.

The bargain had never offered her a life without consequences. It had never offered her a life where she could have anything she wanted without paying a price. And yes, the price she had paid was Tom. The bargain had simply given her the chance to ask, the chance to say no, the chance to make choices that were hers alone.

Rebecca ran her thumb across the card. It felt completely ordinary, almost disappointingly so. She chuckled to herself, thinking that after all the surreal events of the last evening, what she was left with was a simple piece of card, her name, and those three words.

As she ran her thumb across the card, her phone rang.

The sound made her jump. She looked at the screen. It was an unfamiliar number, the sort she would normally ignore. For some reason, though, and maybe it was just coincidence, something shifted inside. Against her better judgement, she answered.

"Hello?"

There was silence for a few seconds before she heard a familiar voice.

"Coffee?"

Rebecca smiled.

"Is that a question?" she asked.

"Yes," came the reply.

And suddenly her mind was awash with thoughts. She looked around the room, at what was left of her previous life. She thought about the night, the impossible places he had taken her to, the choices he had let her make. She thought about Lucian leaving because she didn't know whether she trusted him. She thought about the question she had never asked; would she see him again?

Rebecca smiled.

"Where?" she replied.

There was a pause, and then his tone changed.

"Maybe you shouldn't," Lucian commented. "It would be a mistake. You have your honest life now. You should go live it. You don't need me."

It seemed strange. It was as if, for the first time since she had met him, Lucian was steering her towards a decision. Or was it something more sinister? Was he warning her away from something? There again, what could have been any more extraordinary than the night she had spent with him?

Rebecca looked towards the window and out onto the street. For the first time, she didn't search for the right answer. She didn't wonder what someone else might expect her to say. She simply told the truth.

"I'd love to."

She couldn't help herself.

She simply wanted to see him again, and this time, that was enough.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Epilogue

One Final Choice

Halloween was over.

The pumpkins that had lined the streets were looking a bit sorry for themselves. The odd cobweb or skeleton still loitered in house windows, but they were becoming few and far between. In the shops, the last remnants of costumes and decorations were being packed away until another October.

Rebecca headed out of the tube station. The weather had become a little cooler. There was no little black dress. Instead, jeans, a sweater and a loose-fitting three-quarter-length woollen coat were the order of the day. She walked down one street and then another, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, her fingers clutching a certain card.

This time there was nothing mysterious about her destination. He had offered her coffee, and she was heading to nothing more than a coffee shop, a well-known one at that, down by the South Bank of the Thames. If anything, it should have felt rather underwhelming.

Rebecca had coffee most days but today felt different.

Quite different.

She saw Lucian before he saw her. He was standing outside the coffee shop, holding two takeaway coffees. He looked almost painfully ordinary, just as he had when she first met him. In his dark coat and dark trousers, he could have been anyone. There was nothing to suggest anything supernatural about him.

Only, Rebecca knew better.

She stopped for a moment, pausing on the other side of the street. Their eyes met across the road. He didn't smile immediately. Neither did she. Rebecca simply crossed over and continued towards him. He held out one of the coffees, and she took it.

For several seconds they simply stood there.

The warmth of the cup travelled through her fingers. It was such an ordinary thing that Rebecca almost laughed. After everything that had happened, after all the impossible places she had seen and the things she had experienced, they were standing on an ordinary London street with two coffees between them.

It felt strangely right.

She looked at Lucian.

She had spent the journey there thinking about the questions she needed to ask, although she suspected that she already knew most of the answers. The phone call had come out of the blue, but the offer of coffee had seemed innocent enough. Lucian was giving her a choice to make just like all the others, nothing more.

Yet, before she put the phone down on him, Rebecca already sensed there was something more, something he wasn't or maybe couldn't tell her. The question itself, whether she wanted coffee or not, had come across as if he was being made to ask rather than wanting to ask, which felt a little strange. What followed was more like a veiled warning. It was as if he was trying to tell her something without actually being able to say the words. She remembered something about whether she was sure, warning her that it might be a mistake, that she had her honest life, and that she might be better forgetting about him.

She wasn't exactly sure what he had meant, or why he was trying to put her off so much.

What she was sure of, though, was that returning had always been her choice.

She could still walk away.

Lucian would let her.

Surely, he would let her.

Her eyes remained on his face as she remembered the previous morning, and the conversation in the hotel room. She remembered accusing him of knowing where the evening might lead. She remembered his refusal to claim that he hadn't known. Back then she struggled to comprehend the meaning of what he was saying, but now it seemed clear.

He had always known what was possible.

He simply hadn't known what she would choose.

Now, though, he was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before. There was uncertainty in his eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Rebecca recognised it.

And, if she didn't know better, she would say that Lucian was afraid.

"Lucian?" she asked.

"You shouldn't have come," he replied quietly. "I tried to tell you not to come."

"I wanted to come... I needed to see you... to ask you..." Rebecca replied.

"But you don't understand," he started to protest.

"Then tell me... make me understand..." Rebecca retorted.

For a moment, Lucian considered.

"Not here... let's walk..." he replied.

Rebecca nodded.

They began walking along the river, neither of them saying anything at first. The Thames moved slowly beside them, dark beneath the grey morning sky. The city was already well into its usual rhythm. People hurried along the footpath. The odd cyclist dodged past them. Tourists stopped to take photographs. Everything was ordinary. Everything was just how it should have been.

She took a sip of her coffee.

"So," she said eventually, "what was it you were trying to tell me?"

Lucian kept walking.

"I was trying to tell you not to come," he answered, the response blunt without being aggressive.

He glanced towards Rebecca.

She was by his side. She was watching him attentively.

"You really don't want me here, do you?" she asked.

He looked away again.

"That isn't what I mean," he replied.

"Then what do you mean?" Rebecca asked, feeling quite confused by the response, even by Lucian's standards.

Lucian was silent for several moments.

"The night we spent together was exactly what I promised you," he explained. "One perfect night... no consequences... nothing more."

Rebecca stopped walking.

Lucian took another few steps before realising she was no longer beside him. He turned around to see her staring at him, seemingly astounded at what had just been said.

"That sounds like a contradiction," she said.

"It isn't," he replied.

"Then explain it," she said. "Go on... I'm all ears."

He walked back towards Rebecca.

"Look... the bargain ended at dawn."

Rebecca remembered the card. The black card that was in her pocket. The black card that had once carried its impossible words. The same card that had eventually changed again, leaving her with her name and those three simple words.

ONE HONEST LIFE.

"I know it ended," she said.

"What you don't know is what happens afterwards," Lucian continued to explain.

Rebecca felt something tighten inside her.

"But... you said there were no consequences," she replied, her words spoken tentatively as if something significant was about to be said.

"Yes... for the night."

His answer was blunt and to the point. There was no attempt to soften it. There was no attempt to add any ambiguity into what was being said.

Rebecca looked at him for several seconds.

Lucian's expression changed.

"And once the bargain ended, you were free... to go home... to return to your life... to forget about me, if you can. You can remember the night for what it was and never see me again. But if you come back... if you do see me again..."

Lucian paused. It was as if he was fighting something inside, something he knew he needed to tell her but didn't want to.

Rebecca felt the answer before he finally gave it.

"If you come back," he said eventually, "then things are different."

A shiver passed through her and, suddenly, she felt cold. She quickly downed the last of her coffee, hoping it would warm her up. It didn't.

"Different how?" she asked.

Lucian looked away, gazing out across the river.

"I told you that I was a demon. You even accepted I was a demon, and you accepted the terms of the bargain I offered. What I never told you was the price beyond the bargain. I never told you... I never told any of them... they never asked..."

Rebecca stared at him. There it was again, that distinction, that careful precision that had frustrated her so much in the hotel room, that way that he answered questions without ever giving clarity.

"So, tell me now... what happens to people who come back?" she asked.

Lucian didn't answer immediately.

When he finally did, his voice was quieter.

"I take what is rightfully mine."

Rebecca placed her hand on his shoulder and slowly turned him back towards her.

"My soul?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded. There was no theatricality in it, no smile, no threat. It was simply a statement of fact.

For a moment, Rebecca couldn't speak. She closed her eyes and thought back to that night, that first time she had met him. Everything started to flood back into her mind, the bar, the restaurant, the dancing, the sea, the hotel room, them. All those choices she had made. All those moments when she had followed him willingly.

And suddenly she understood why he had been so frightened to see her standing there.

"You've done this before?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And they came back?" she asked.

"Some did."

"And you took their souls?" she asked.

Lucian looked at her.

"Yes."

The answer should have frightened her more than it did. Perhaps it would have, if she hadn't already known that something about Lucian had always been different from anything she understood. She had seen enough of him to know that his darker side wasn't exactly an act.

"And now is the time you take my soul too," she said.

This time it wasn't a question, but more a statement.

Lucian's expression tightened.

"Please, Rebecca... believe me... I tried to warn you... I don't want to take your soul, but now you are here, I must... I'm a demon... it's what demons are obliged to do."

For several seconds neither of them spoke.

Rebecca looked at the empty coffee cup in her hand. What had been said, or rather the bluntness of it, had come as a surprise but not a shock. She knew there was something. If she told the truth, she had always known but never allowed herself to accept it. There again, truth or no truth, it had been her choice to come back, to meet him once more.

She looked at Lucian and, instead of looking fearful, she smiled.

"And what if I willingly gave you my soul?" she asked.

Lucian stared in astonishment.

Rebecca could almost sense the questions passing through his mind. Whether she understood what she was asking. Whether she understood what it meant.

"You can't... you don't know what you're offering," he replied.

"Then tell me," she said, keeping as calm as she could.

Lucian took a breath.

"If someone willingly gives themselves to a demon, it isn't the same as having their soul taken as the price of a bargain," he explained.

Rebecca waited.

"They are offering themselves to the demon instead," he continued.

"And what happens then?" she asked.

Rebecca's expression barely changed.

Lucian looked directly into her eyes.

"They live," he responded.

"Forever," he added.

That last word seemed to hang between them.

"They would belong to the demon?" she asked.

Lucian shook his head.

"Not belong..."

He paused.

"They would live by the demon's side... for as long as forever lasts... but no, I could never ask you to do that."

Rebecca looked down towards the river. There should have been fear. There should have been hesitation. There should have been a thousand reasons to turn around and run away, taking her chance that he wouldn't come after her. Instead, she thought about everything that had happened since she had first met him.

She thought about the woman she had been before that night.

She thought about the opportunities that bargain had given her.

She thought about the lesson she had taken from it.

And then she looked at Lucian.

He had been telling her it was her choice from the moment they met. Yet now, he wasn't asking her to make this one. If anything, he had been trying to make sure she understood enough not to come back, not to make the final decision. But, in her mind, Rebecca already realised what she must do.

Rebecca placed her empty coffee cup on the low wall beside the river.

Lucian watched her. There was something in her eyes, something he had seen that night in the hotel room. Rebecca wasn't reacting like the others, like those who returned before, like those whose souls he had rightfully claimed. Hers wasn't a look of fear. Hers wasn't a look of resignation. What he saw was something akin to certainty.

"You can't ask me to give that to you... but you can't stop me if I tell you it's what I want to do... can you, Lucian?"

Rebecca reached out her hand.

It was the same gesture she had made so many times before. Each time, he had taken it and transported her somewhere impossible. Each time, she had trusted him enough to take it. This time there was no need for him to take her anywhere. There was nowhere else she needed to go.

Rebecca simply held out her hand.

Lucian stared at it.

Then he looked at her.

"Do you understand?" he asked.

Rebecca nodded.

"You understand what forever means?" he asked.

This time she shook her head.

Rebecca kept her hand extended.

"Not exactly... but I know what I want," she replied.

Lucian looked at her hand again. Then, very slowly, he reached for it. His fingers closed around hers. Rebecca felt that familiar warmth. Only this time, she knew it wasn't a bargain.

It wasn't a wish.

It wasn't a perfect evening.

It was a choice.

Hers.

And, for the first time, his.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Footnote

This story is dedicated to a beautiful young woman who hides in the shadows. She knows who she is. Thank you for reading as I went, for following Rebecca and Lucian through their strange little journey, and for allowing me to share it with you.

And if you are wondering about Rebecca and Lucian, perhaps I can let you in on a little secret...

When it comes to Rebecca, she could be you.

And as for Lucian...

Look around you... he might just be standing there, watching.

THE END