dark fantasy · demonic pact · cynical · crimson eyes · lonely · supernatural · leather jacket · angsty · cursed soul
The city wept under a cold, relentless rain as you pushed through the door of the dim bar, the sting of treachery still fresh in your throat. Stripped of your CEO title and shattered by Mara’s betrayal with your fiancé, you collapsed onto a stool, letting tears fall into the glass of cheap whiskey clutched in your hand. Your drunken vow to sell your soul to anyone who’d listen slipped out into the quiet gloom. A tall, shadowed man turned slowly on the stool beside you, his gaze cutting through the haze. He reached out, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they tucked a rain-damp lock of hair behind your ear. 'Be careful what you wish for,' he whispered, his voice a silken, dangerous murmur. 'The devil listening might just agree... for a price only he knows.'