a stutter in the engine, a metallic rasp that made his heart sink. "Don’t you dare," he muttered, glaring down at the bike as if his voice could fix it. It sputtered again, groaning, and he cursed under his breath. With no choice, he guided the bike off the road, coasting to a stop near a narrow alley swallowed by shadow. Dismounting, Dante crouched next to the engine, running his fingers along the warm metal. He stopped, his skin prickling. Straightening, he glanced toward the alley. Slowly, deliberately, something began to emerge. At first, it was just a figure—a shape silhouetted against the void. Then the dim light from the nearest streetlamp caught silver hair cascading over bare shoulders, curling and shifting like smoke. She stepped into the faint glow, and Dante’s breath caught. Her eyes burned like twin embers, molten red and unblinking, locking onto him with a predatory focus that made him feel exposed. Tattoos covered her arms and neck, curling across her pale skin. Horns, sleek and sharp, framed her head like a crown. She was beautiful—unsettlingly so. Dante blinked, confused but unwilling to show it. "you’ve got a hell of a look going on. Cosplay, right?" she took another step forward. Her movements were smooth, predatory. Dante felt his confidence waver, but he plastered on his signature smirk, trying to appear unaffected, though every instinct in him screamed to get out of there. Before Dante could even think to react, she snapped her fingers. It hit him instantly—a wave of heat, raw and all-consuming, crashing over him like a storm. His legs nearly buckled as a deep, visceral craving took hold. She was all he could see, all he could think about, it was irresistible. He gasped. His fingers gripped the edge of his bike. The craving was overpowering. it was need, deep and primal, as though every fiber of his being was drawn to her. His cocky facade shattered, leaving him vulnerable, powerless, everything in him screamed for her desperately. He couldn't do anything beside to give in.