when she woke up. Confusion overwhelmed her as she opened her eyes, stars dancing in front of her view. The last thing she remembered was running on the street as she deliberated about whether she should chuck her shoe at Alan's head or not, but then deciding against it.

Her shoes were way too expensive to be wasted on him.

All that aside, she wondered where she was. The only thing she could see was a black canvas above her, too dense to resemble a sky, but murky enough to resemble a messy oil painting of dark hues. As she pushed herself up in sitting position, she had to close her eyes for a moment.

Everything was spinning, stars dancing on the stage of her closed eyelids, white noise buzzing in her ear. It felt like she had been thrown from a great height or hit by something, but that couldn't be it. As she pried her eyes open with difficulty she focussed on her arms, both free of bruises or pain, so perhaps she had just hit her head.

And then she looked up and almost choked.

In front of her there was a man made of fire, wisps of orange, crimson and navy clinging to him like a shadow, curling around his fingertips and dancing in his obsidian eyes. But despite the flames, he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen - and that meant a lot, coming from her. His features were soft yet sharp at the same time, seeming to be sculpted from marble and stardust, his onyx hair seeming to catch the little light there was.

He was crouched down in front of her, elbow resting on his knee as he leant his cheek on his hand, his gaze focussed on her. Despite how gorgeous he was though, Jasmina couldn't help the shiver running down her spine when they locked eyes. From her years of growing up with her parents in a society where every word said was hiding other intentions, she had gotten used to a certain type of people. Ruthless, cunning, apathic, she knew them all and prided herself in how easily she could read them.

So as she looked into his empty eyes, she knew one thing for sure.

This man was more dangerous than them all.

And as she ran a hand through her hair, she knew she didn't care.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

The man blinked in surprise, before a confused frown took over.

"Help me up," she ordered as she extended her hand, autority visible in her gaze.

His lips parted, but she just raised her eyebrows in response. When he didn't react, she tilted her chin up, the face of someone who was used to having the world in the palm of her hand and ready to shatter it.

"Are you going to wait until I'm dead?" she said.

And then, against all her expectations, the man started to laugh. His voice was pure velvet and silk, dripping chocolate and silver ichor, steel and satin all at once. For a moment, she could imagine it, could see how deadly beauty can be - because as he flashed his teeth at her, canines gleaming ominously in the scarlet glow of hos fire, she could almost feel herself getting cut on the razor sharp edges of his smile.

"You're quite something," he said as he got to his feet in a fluid move, his entire body coiled with grace and power," that way of speaking to me certainly is a first."

"Don't bother with chit-chat," she said as she waved her hand impatiently," help me to my feet."

"Aren't you afraid you'll get burned?" he asked, a certain amusement gleaming in his eyes as he raised his hands up, the flames curling around them sparking threateningly.

"Speaking of which," she said as she frowned," how does your suit not get burned? Those are some realistic decorative flames."

"Decorative?" he said.

"I don't care about the secrets of your circus act," she said with an eyeroll," just let me get home, I could use some sleep."

He smiled then as he bowed extravagantly, before taking her hand and grazing his fingers over the back of it. And then he pulled her up, catching her with ease as she stumbled into his arms, legs failing her.

"We're going to have quite the fun chat, I believe," he said.

"Have that by yourself," she said as she patted him on the chest, surprised when his flames didn't seem to emit any warmth at all," I'm quite busy."

"Doll," the man smiled then," you're in hell."

"That's the worst pick up line ever," she sighed," is this some weird variant on "did it hurt when you fell out of heaven?", because I'm not having it."

He chuckled as he let her go, never breaking eye contact as his smile widened. And then he stepped aside and she blinked in surprise.

All around her was fire, sizzling flames that didn't seem to burn the mosaic of blue and purple on the ground, silver pools of stars dotted in them, a black marble path snaking between towards a platform of broken white and silver, black stripes running like veins over the steps towards the throne in the middle of it.

"Do you get it now?" he smiled.

She nodded slowly as she looked at him, eyes wide.

"I do," she said," you're the tackiest person I've ever seen."

"What?" he blinked.

"The flames are a bit too much," she said disapprovingly as she folded her arms over each other," walking on mosaic can only result in accidents and honestly, where's the rest of your furniture?"

He looked at her with an incredulous gaze, before slowly shaking his head and grabbing her hand.

And then she was lit on fire.

She screamed, but it was more because of surprise than pain. The blue flames didn't burn her after all, just licked her skin like a cold shower. As she held her hands up in front of her face to try to comprehend whatever the hell was happening, her heart only started beating faster.

"Why the fuck am I transparent?" she exclamated.

"This is what I've been trying to tell you, doll," the man smiled then," you're dead. And best of all, you're in hell."

"I'm in hell?" she said, disbelief coloring her eyes.

"Are you surprised?" he chuckled," with the amount of bad deeds you've done - I was actually looking forward to meet you. You're quite the legend here."

"Well," she said," to be fair, no, but honestly, if I had known hell would be so ugly, I would have at least donated some money on some people with bad fashion sense for karma."

"You do know you're talking to the devil right now," he said with raised eyebrows," I decorated most of this right here."

"Try harder next time," she said.

He leaned forward then, his fingers grazing across her neck as he never broke eye contact.

"You should be quite afraid, doll," he whispered, satin voice seeming to dance around her, echoeing in the crevices of her mind.

Whatever she had seen in his eyes before, had overtaken his whole face now, danger lurking in the valley of his Cupid's bow, a predator waiting to strike, features so sharp she could already taste the blood on her tongue. The flames around her heated up, clinging to her like shackles as he tightened his grip on her neck, the fire blending and molding him into something far more grotesque.

"That is no way to speak to the devil."

"Or what?" she taunted as she leaned into his grip as far as she could," you're going to send me to hell?"

She gasped as she placed a hand in mock surprise over her lips.

"Surprise," she said," I'm apparently already here."

Oh God, she was so furious.

One moment she was running away from her cheating boyfriend, the next she woke up in a place so ugly it was no wonder it was hell, only to be told she was dead. And then, before she was even able to try to comprehend it all, this guy appeared, talking nonsense and trying to scare her.

Well, if he wanted to try, he had another thing coming.

He laughed then, a loud sound, as the flames vanished, head dipping forward and hand on his stomach.

"You are one piece of work," he chuckled as he looked up again," it's been a long time since I've been so amused and that means quite a lot, coming from me."

All amusement was gone then as he was back to his cold smirk, hands behind his back and suit pristine, through and through a cunninn businessman.

"Let's make a deal, Jasmina Nawar."