The echo of Madison's final rejection to Prince Dantalion (the "handsome encyclopedia," as she'd mentally labeled him) was still hanging in the dusty air of the corridor when Lord Astaroth approached.
The other demon lords, having sufficiently had their egos bruised by Madison's verbal slaps, had vanished one by one, leaving a trail of sulky sulfur behind them.
Now, it was just the two of them.
"You like no one, Madison," Astaroth said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated right through the stone floor.
He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her whole. With a swift, authoritative movement, he trapped her against the cold wall, placing both hands on either side of her head.
No escape.
Madison didn't even blink. Instead, she leaned back slightly, appreciating the view. Up close, Astaroth's eyes weren't just gold; they were molten gold, swirling with an intensity that could melt a metal bowl from fifty paces.
"You rejected the rich one, you rejected the powerful one, you rejected the smart one," Astaroth ticked them off, his breath hot against her cheek.
"What do you want? Who could possibly meet these ridiculous standards of yours?"
Madison looked right into his eyes, her smirk growing wider. The attraction between them was hotter than all the lava in the seven circles combined. It was the kind of tension that makes you forget your own name (or at least your ex's name for a whole five seconds).
"Maybe..." Madison said, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper.
She reached up, her cool fingers sliding against the collar of his intricate armor, tracing the sharp edge near his neck.
"Maybe I just want to watch the King who has everything, the Lord who commands legions, completely lose his grip on a mortal girl. What do you say, Asti? I can't read your thoughts, but your heart—if you actually have one under this expensive metal—is beating way faster than Tyler's ever did when he was trying to explain quantum physics."
Astaroth leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with anticipation.
"Then the game is over, Madison," he rasped, his voice like velvet over gravel. "Since you cannot choose a husband, I choose you. And trust me, the drama you'll live with me will make Tyler's low-budget, visionless little stories look like a children's puppet show."
Astaroth's castle was, without a doubt, the most magnificent, ostentatious piece of "dark-luxury" real estate Madison had ever seen (or died in!).
Forget Gothic cathedrals; this place looked like it was designed by a depressed architect who had an unlimited budget and a thing for obsidian.
The castle was built directly onto the edge of a massive abyss, overlooking "The Valley of Screams." When Madison looked out her bedroom's gigantic floor-to-ceiling window, she watched the orange and crimson reflection of the lava rivers below dance across the black marble of the room.
It was like living inside a very expensive, very dangerous disco ball.
"Wow," Madison breathed, tossing her Ouija board onto a velvet chaise lounge that probably cost more than Tyler's entire apartment complex. She walked out onto the balcony, the heat from below blowing her hair back.
"Tyler would take me for a milkshake on the beach and call it 'romantic,' but this view is literally... lit! But seriously, are those flames real or just for ambient lighting? If I drop my phone, is it gone forever?"
Astaroth approached her silently from behind. To her surprise, he had shed that heavy, intimidating armor. He was now wearing only a black silk shirt and tight, tailored trousers. The top few buttons were undone, and Madison felt her breath catch in her throat as she caught sight of his chest—flawless, marble-hard muscle, smooth and perfect.
There was a single, prominent vein pulsing on his neck that was inexplicably attractive. The man looked less like a demon lord and more like the dark, dangerous version of a "Victoria's Secret" model—"Victoria's Wicked Secret," perhaps.
His shoulders were so impossibly broad that Madison felt like a tiny, fragile trinket standing next to him.
"The view must have made you hungry, Madison," Astaroth said, his voice smooth and intoxicating.
He was so close she could smell his scent—masculine, woody, with a faint hint of expensive incense and something primal. "Come. Let me show you the real flavors of Hell. But be warned: the food here is nothing like your mortal 'vegan bowls' or 'deconstructed salads.'"
When they walked into the dining room, Madison's jaw actually dropped—and not because she was a ghost.
The table itself was a masterpiece of macabre design. It was crafted from the spine bones of ancient giants, bleached to a stark white, and covered in a sheet of solid, gleaming obsidian.
In the center, instead of candles, tiny balls of blue and green flames floated just above the surface, casting a dramatic, slightly spooky glow over everything.
But the most fascinating detail was the fountain in the corner. Instead of water, a thick, dark crimson liquid flowed from it. The air smelled of something rich, complex, and slightly addictive.
"What is that?" Madison asked, pointing.
"The Fountain of Sorrows," Astaroth explained, pulling out Madison's chair with a surprisingly gentlemanly flourish (and a very sexy, predatory lean that had her looking at his shoulders again). "It flows with the tears of the Betrayed and essences of Pure Rage. Quite refreshing with the main course."
As she sat down, Madison inhaled his scent again. Tyler always smelled of sweat, cheap body spray, and the faint aroma of the energy drink he'd had for lunch.
This man smelled like... like 'Expensive Sin'.
Astaroth snapped his fingers, and plates instantly appeared on the obsidian table.
"Our first course," Astaroth said, lifting a silver dome from her plate.
"'Dragon's Heart with a Reduction of Eternal Regret'. Dragon meat is notoriously tough because they swear an oath of honesty right before their final breath, but the flavor will make every expensive steak in your world taste like cardboard."
Madison took a tiny piece on her silver fork. "Oh, Asti, this literally explodes in my mouth! Tyler's mom once made this dried-out pasta that was basically just seasoned drywall. This is... incredible."
Astaroth laughed—a rare, dark sound that sent confusing butterflies fluttering through her ghostly stomach.
"And what of this? 'Phoenix Wing with Forbidden Fruit Marmalade'. Eating this will grant you a fleeting memory of all your past lives. But be careful; eat too much, and you might actually start to miss that narcissistic ex of yours."
"Never!" Madison declared, taking a sip of her "Blood-Red Wine" (which was actually the essence of forgotten dreams). "The only way I'll remember Tyler is if I pour this dragon sauce over him and feed him to the imps!"
As dinner progressed, Astaroth set his crystal glass down and leaned across the table toward her. He had rolled up the sleeves of his silk shirt, and the powerful muscles of his forearms gleamed in the light from the central flames.
Madison couldn't help but wonder just how warm that rigid, commanding body could be.
"Madison," Astaroth said, his voice a whisper that felt closer than it actually was. "Look at me. You didn't come here just to escape. You came here to reclaim the throne you were born to sit on. This food, this castle, this power... all of it can be yours. All I require is that you open that small, 'mortal' heart completely to me."
Madison set her fork down slowly. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Astaroth's molten gold gaze, which was now filled with an intensity that felt a lot like desire.
"And what about the rules, Asti? I don't like rules, you know that. I stalk, I create drama, I make a mess of things. Is Hell ready for me?"
Astaroth reached across the table and took her hand. His hand completely enveloped hers; it was large, strong, and incredibly warm—hot, even, but not in a burning way. In a grounding, possessive way.
"Hell has been very boring for a thousand years, Madison. Your toxic energy is exactly what this place needs to wake up."
In that moment, Madison felt the last, fading ghost of Tyler's existence in her world completely vanish. Standing before her wasn't a scared, narcissistic boy.
He was a King, and that King was in love with her darkest sides.