The night was wild.
Lucifer was in his elent—drinks in hand, charm on full blast, laughing with a ridiculously hot bartender who was clearly eating up every word. The lights danced across his sharp features like he was made for this place.
And Anita? She was having the ti of her life.
A few hours ago, she was just a regular girl. Poor background. Scholarship student. Always with her head in the books. Her plan was simple: stay out of trouble, ace every class, get that first class degree, beco a doctor, and pull her family out of the dirt. That was the dream.
But all that?
Gone in one night.
She was almost cornered by a group of thugs when he appeared. Smooth, calm, dangerous. Lucifer. He didn't just save her—he gave her power. Not just strength. Real power. The kind that made her body feel alive for the first ti. The kind that made the world stop feeling scary.
Now, she wasn't scared anymore.
She wasn't the prey.
She was the one with the fangs.
Anita stopped dancing. The music kept pulsing, but her eyes locked onto Lucifer. He hadn't even noticed her watching—he was too busy charming the bartender. Typical.
She smirked.
Then turned her head, eyes scanning the dancefloor.
There. Her next bite.
A cute guy, sweaty from dancing, heartbeat loud in her ears. He looked her way and smiled.
She smiled back.
"Your lucky night," she whispered under her breath, stepping forward.
Because now? She was the predator.
The Next Day
Sunlight spilled through the half-open blinds, casting soft lines across the bed. Lucifer opened his eyes slowly, stretching a bit before glancing at the naked bartender still asleep beside him. Her red lips were slightly parted, and her makeup was smudged from the night before.
He slid out of bed without a sound, grabbed the long black coat hanging on the chair, and tossed it over his bare body. The fabric draped smoothly as he walked out of the room, the sound of his footsteps soft against the polished wooden floor.
In the living room, he picked up his phone and dialed.
"Yo, Zane," he said casually, voice still raspy from sleep. "I need a favor."
He didn't wait for a reply.
"Throw a party. Big one. Invite your people—rich kids, influencers, the loudmouths in this college and anyone with connections outside. I want this to be loud. Glorious. Set it for a couple weeks from now."
He walked toward the window and looked out.
"Also, use your mom's connections. Get into one of those top-tier hospitals. The ones with private wings. That's all for now."
Click. Call ended. No ti for back-and-forth.
"Did I hear sothing about a party?"
Lucifer didn't turn.
The bartender leaned against the doorway, fully dressed now, hair tied up. Her heels dangled from one hand as she smiled playfully.
"Yeah," Lucifer said without looking. "But you're not invited. It's for people in high places."
She raised an eyebrow, pretending to be hurt. "Ouch. That's cold. You sure about that? Just because I'm not in high places... doesn't an I don't know people there."
That made him pause.
Slowly, he turned to face her, eyes narrowing a little.
She didn't flinch. Just kept smiling.
Lucifer stepped closer, eyes locked onto hers. "You know soone important?"
She shrugged. "Maybe. Depends. What's it worth to you?"
He studied her for a second. Then a slow smirk crept onto his lips. "Maybe you are worth keeping around."
She walked past him, brushing his coat lightly as she moved toward the door. "Think about it, devil boy. You've got my number."
The door shut behind her with a soft click.
Lucifer stood there for a mont, then let out a low chuckle.
"Interesting..."
His phone buzzed. A ssage from Zane.
"Done. Party will be unforgettable. And I've already called my mom."
Lucifer tossed the phone onto the couch and walked to the kitchen. He poured himself a drink even though it was still morning.
raised the glass to his lips, the cold drink just inches away—when his phone buzzed again.
Lucifer sighed and looked at the screen.
Anita.
He swiped to answer.
"Hello."
Her voice ca through, soft but panicked.
"Lucifer... I can't— I can't walk under the sun. It burns. Like, really burns."
Lucifer stopped mid-sip, lowering the glass slowly.
"Figures," he muttered, rubbing his temple with his fingers.
He walked over to the couch and sat down, eyes scanning the ceiling like he was calculating sothing.
"Alright, calm down. Hold on. I'll figure it out."
"But it's crazy! I tried stepping out and—"
"I said hold on, Anita." His voice was calm but firm. "Just stay inside. Curtains drawn. I'll handle it."
There was silence on the line for a second. Then she whispered, "Okay."
Lucifer ended the call and leaned back into the couch, his coat sliding open slightly as he stared at the ceiling.
The sunlit room suddenly felt a bit too bright.
"Remu might be able to help," Lucifer muttered, staring at his phone. "But I doubt I can get her to agree... not without breaking sothing."
He stood by the window, arms folded. He knew how Remu was—loud, stubborn, quick to throw a curse when pissed. Not as chaotic as Ella, sure, but definitely not the type to sit down and talk things out.
The only reason Ella gave in so easily was because she was a vampire. And Lucifer? He was the Progenitor—the original blood. It didn't matter if his strength wasn't at full power yet, his bloodline authority still hit hard.
But Remu... Remu was a witch. And worse, one that didn't exactly like him.
Lucifer sighed. "Well, only one way to find out."
He tossed the phone on the couch and headed to the bathroom.
Water splashed. Steam filled the air. His eyes, sharp and glowing faintly in the mirror, narrowed as he wiped the fog from the glass.
Minutes later, dressed in all black with that lazy but dangerous vibe he always carried, Lucifer stepped out.
The sky was bright. The world busy. And Remu was probably already in a mood sowhere.
"Let's go stir the cauldron," he said with a crooked grin as he walked out the door.
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