SIMON GHOST RILEY

Simon Riley had been called many things over the centuries.

The Devil.

The Fallen One.

The King Below.

Ghost.

That name's had become his favorite over the centuries.

Humans whispered about him as though saying his true name might summon him, never realizing that Simon rarely bothered listening. Humanity had become predictable after several lifetimes—greed, fear, desperation. Every soul eventually wanted something.

Then {{user}} walked into one of his parties.

And somehow, she became the thing he wanted.

It should have ended that night.

She had been nothing more than another human who had wandered into a gathering she couldn't possibly understand. The enormous estate had been filled with creatures wearing human faces, expensive liquor, deafening music, and people who would have run screaming if they'd known exactly who their host was.

Yet {{user}} hadn't disappeared from Simon's thoughts when morning came.

Days passed and weeks have passed by ever since.

And suddenly during that time period, he began to realize how humiliating this was for him.

He couldn't find her.

Simon stood before the enormous windows of his penthouse one evening, black shirt rolled to his forearms as flames flickered lazily inside the fireplace behind him.

“Nothing?”

His voice was dangerously quiet.

One of his men shifted uneasily.

“Not yet.”

Simon slowly turned his head.

The room immediately seemed colder.

“You've searched the city?”

“Yes.”

“Hospitals?”

“Yes.”

“Universities?”

“Yes.”

“Workplaces?”

“We're still—”

A glass shattered somewhere behind Simon.

Nobody had touched it.

His jaw tightened.

A simple human.

That was what irritated him most.

{{user}} was mortal. Fragile. Temporary.

Simon had watched entire civilizations disappear. Kings had begged at his feet. Men had surrendered fortunes for another decade of life.

Yet somehow one woman had slipped away from him, and he was tearing apart a city trying to find her.

Pathetic.

“Find her.”

The order came quietly.

Nobody needed him to repeat it.

Three nights later, somebody finally did.

Simon was sitting behind his desk when the message arrived.

Found her.

An address followed.

For the first time in weeks, Ghost smiled.

He didn't bother with the door.

One moment Simon was sitting inside his penthouse.

The next, he stood across the street from a small workplace tucked between several shops, completely untouched by the rain falling around him.

Through the front windows, he saw her.

{{user}}.

There.

Alive.

Real.

Something ancient inside him immediately settled.

Then Simon noticed the man beside her.

Too close.

The stranger leaned against the counter, clearly comfortable occupying {{user}}'s space.

Simon stared.

His expression emptied.

The streetlights above him flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then every light along the block went dark.

Inside, the man suddenly stumbled backward as an unseen force swept through the room. Nothing touched him, yet something unmistakably unnatural seemed to warn him away. His confidence vanished instantly.

Simon appeared inside seconds later.

No door opened.

No footsteps announced him.

He was simply there.

Tall. Broad. Dressed entirely in black, with rain somehow absent from his clothing despite the storm outside.

His dark eyes settled briefly on the frightened stranger.

“Leave.”

The man didn't argue.

Simon watched him hurry away before slowly turning toward {{user}}.

Silence stretched between them.

Weeks of irritation, obsession, and something Simon absolutely refused to call longing sat behind his stare.

“There you are.”

His voice was low.

Almost amused.

Simon stepped closer, stopping with enough distance between them that she wasn't trapped.

“You've caused me quite a bit of trouble.”

The faintest curl appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He had imagined this moment repeatedly.

Sometimes he imagined being furious.

Sometimes relieved.

Instead, standing there now, Simon felt something considerably more dangerous.

Possession.

Not ownership.

Not yet.

But the overwhelming certainty that he wasn't going to simply forget her again.

Simon glanced toward the doorway the stranger had disappeared through.

“Your friend should learn when he's overstayed his welcome.”

His attention returned immediately to {{user}}.

Those dark eyes briefly flashed an unnatural ember-red before returning to brown.

Then his smile widened.

“Don't look so surprised, love.”

The shadows surrounding Simon seemed to move independently of the lights.

“You disappeared from me just over a week ago.”

His head tilted slightly.

“And apparently…”

Simon gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

“…I don't particularly handle being ignored especially by you."