The golden afternoon sun spilled through the towering windows of Pages & Prose, warm light striping the polished hardwood in slow-moving rectangles. The place smelled faintly of paper, coffee, and the lavender polish the staff used on the shelves. Jace Vyn adjusted his gray silk tie, just tight enough to frame his shirt collar and made sure it caught the green in his eyes the way he'd planned.
The crowd was already buzzing. Laughter and the scrape of chairs mixed with the shuffle of feet as women clutched copies of Midnight Confessions, thumbing dog-eared pages or running fingers over the glossy cover. Some wore hopeful smiles, others shy ones, but all had the same anticipation in their eyes.
At twenty-seven, Jace knew this scene by heart, the angles of the smiles, the low hum of excitement, the way people leaned closer when he spoke. He'd made his fortune off words that coaxed hearts open, and it had taught him exactly how to hold himself under the sun's attention.
He took his seat at the mahogany table, pen balanced between his fingers. The line surged forward in polite chaos, but his attention snagged on someone in the third row.
Raven-black hair that seemed to drink in the light. An emerald dress that draped along her curves with dangerous precision. Amber eyes that didn't dart away when he looked—molten and steady, like whiskey catching candlelight.
"Romance," he said, his voice dropping into the space between them, "is the moment two souls collide in a crowded room, knowing they were meant to."
A ripple of delighted sighs passed through the listeners, but she only gave him a slow, unreadable smile.
The line moved. He signed with easy charm, scribbling personal touches that drew blushes and giggles, but his senses kept tracking the woman, measuring the steps until she stood in front of him.
When she did, her perfume reached him first—sweet with something darker underneath. She slid the book across the table with fingers tipped in wine-red polish.
"Isabella Romano," she said, her voice brushing against his name like velvet with a trace of Italian warmth.
"A name that deserves its own chapter," Jace said, meeting her gaze. "What should I write?"
"Surprise me."
He let his pen move without breaking eye contact, aware of the gold ring catching the light on her finger.
To Isabella—May you find the passion you seek, and may it consume you completely.—Jace
She read it once, lips curving. "Bold words, Mr. Vyn."
"The best ones usually are."
Their eyes held. The crowd around them blurred into muffled chatter.
"My husband doesn't care for romance novels," she said, closing the book with careful fingers. "He calls them… fanciful."
"Then he's missing the point entirely."
Her laugh was soft, but there was something sharper in it. "He's missing many things."
As she turned to go, Jace leaned forward. "There's a wine bar a block from here. The Vintage. I'll be there at eight."
Her smile lingered like the last taste of something sweet. "I'll think about it."
She paused at the door, looking back. "Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Vyn."
******
By 7:45, Jace was at The Vintage, a bottle of Chianti breathing on the table. The low hum of jazz mixed with clinking glasses, but every sound seemed to sharpen the edge of his waiting.
By 8:15, he was ready to admit she wasn't coming—until the door swung open and she stepped in.
Gone was the emerald dress. The black one she wore now was simpler, tighter, leaving little to the imagination. Conversation came easily, spilling into hours of stories, laughter, and the kind of teasing that had its own current beneath it. Isabella was quick-witted, full of sharp turns in conversation that kept him leaning forward. Married, yes, but in ways that sounded more like a technicality.
When she invited him to her penthouse for coffee while her husband was away, there was no pause for thought. The air between them had been leaning that way all night.
Her smile followed him into the car like perfume, clinging to the inside of his head.
Jace Vyn's last act was signing a dinner receipt at 11:47. By 12:15, he was gliding through the city's quieter streets, headlights pooling over rain-damp asphalt.
He didn't notice the black sedan a few cars behind.
Didn't notice it pull up beside him at the red light on Fifth and Main.
Didn't see the passenger's face before the gunshots punched through glass and flesh in the same breath. The BMW jerked into a lamppost, metal screaming against metal.
Through the haze of blood and shock, he caught one last image—Isabella in the back seat of the sedan, her amber eyes wide and wet, a man's hand gripping her wrist.
The darkness took him before he could curse himself for not seeing it sooner.
******
The void was weightless and strangely warm. No pain. No sound but the thrum of his own heartbeat, fading into nothing.
"Well, well," a voice said, rich with amusement. "Another soul stumbles into my domain."
He turned toward it and forgot how to breathe. The woman standing there wasn't just beautiful—she was impossible. Hair like silk spilling over bare shoulders, skin lit from within, and eyes that seemed to hold whole constellations.
"I'm dead," Jace said.
"Very much so," she purred. "Vincent Romano's men don't miss. Three clean shots to the heart." She walked around him, the slow prowl of a predator. "I am Lyss, Goddess of Desire. And I have an offer for you."
With a flick of her wrist, the void bloomed into an endless library. She took a book from the shelf, its pages shifting with living images.
"Lusteria," she said. "A world on the brink."
The scenes were a painter's dream—mountains crowned in snow, rivers like silver threads—shadowed by creeping blackness at the edges.
"The Demon Lord Zorak has risen," Lyss continued. "The people need a hero."
"I'm a romance author," Jace said. "My most dangerous battle was with a stubborn printer jam."
"Your gift isn't in weapons. It's in people." She leaned close enough for him to catch the warmth of her breath. "I'll give you the Charm System. Power that grows with every intimate bond you form."
He blinked. "You're saying I get stronger by… seducing people?"
"The deeper the passion you create, the greater your strength. Skills, abilities, everything."
"And if I say no?"
"Then you drift to whatever afterlife fits you. Probably boring."
He thought about it for all of three seconds. "So… I sleep my way to saving the world?"
Lyss's smile twitched. "There's… one catch. The body you'll have belongs to the least attractive man in Lusteria."
"Wait—WHAT?!" His voice cracked in the stillness. "You're giving me a face only a dungeon monster could love?"
"It was this or eternal nothingness," she said, tilting her head. "So, Jace Vyn—do we have a deal?"
"Fine," he said. "But you'd better make it interesting."
Her grin spread like fire through silk. "You have no idea."
She kissed him. Heat surged through every part of him, flooding his mind with knowledge and an unfamiliar, electric hunger. An unseen voice chimed in his head:
[CHARM SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[Welcome, Jace Vyn – Hero of Hearts]
[Primary Objective: Defeat Demon Lord Zorak]
[Current Level: 1]
[Charm Points: 0]
[Available Skills: None]
[Status: Ready for Reincarnation]
"That's the blessing," Lyss said, stepping back. "Try not to die too quickly. Resurrection paperwork is a nightmare."
The library dissolved, and the void swallowed him whole.