The motel looked exactly like what you’d expect for something as basic as, “Room Six.”

  A peeling neon sign that read Mo el 606—the letter T long since dead. The pool was covered with a torn tarp that looked like it had drowned something larger than a human. A Coke machine leaned against the office door like it had given up halfway through living.

  We parked under the only streetlamp, not yet lit because of the hour. It honestly looked like it wouldn’t light up at night anyway. Elly killed the engine and drummed her fingers on the wheel.

  “We go in pairs,” she said. “Eury and I stay outside, watch for movement. You two…” Her eyes cut between me and Lily. “…fulfill the request. Whatever that might mean in a place like this.”

  Eury smirked from the passenger seat, her posture all marble and disdain. “I’ll be by the pool. Maybe I’ll even get a tan. Who needs a swimsuit?”

  “Don’t kill the lifeguard,” I muttered.

  Eury snorted, but her shoulders were relaxed. “No promises.”

  “Why the two of us?” I asked, indicating Lily and myself, though I knew the answer.

  “Because the spider in her web said so,” Elly replied. “And because Jade knows exactly where to stick the knife.”

  We climbed six flights of exterior stairs, zigzagging like a hamster maze. I pretended not to wheeze when we hit the top. The air smelled of mildew and despair, the concrete sticky underfoot. Lily’s perfume—warm, sweet vanilla and something faintly electric—cut through it. Comforting, infuriatingly so.

  I didn’t like needing that.

  Room 606 wasn’t locked. The knob turned with the kind of ease that made you question your life choices, and the door opened with a groan that was definitely too suggestive for its own good.

  Inside: one queen bed with a floral comforter that might’ve been witness to war crimes, a buzzing mini-fridge, a single brass lamp wearing a lampshade the color of nicotine. And in the corner, like she’d been waiting for the cue, her.

  She was tall—statuesque in the literal sense—and her trench coat looked freshly tailored, every fold deliberate. The hood did nothing to hide the serpents curling at her temples, each one glimmering faintly under the light. Her eyes—stone-gray, unblinking—fixed on me, and the air seemed to tighten around us.

  Eury’s bloodline. No question.

  I wanted to look away, to blink, but something in her gaze dared me to keep looking. It burned, like staring too long into sunlight.

  “You are expected,” she said, voice smooth as poured marble. She gestured to the dresser, where a small wooden box sat. “You are ready for the fruit?”

  My throat felt dry as sand. “I… guess so?”

  The box opened with a faint sigh, revealing the faintly glowing Blushfruit—pale and pulsing like a heart under glass. The light flickered, unstable, like it was already dying.

  “Jade must’ve harvested this from the tree,” I murmured.

  “The Blushfruit tree, yes,” the Gorgon said, her s’s sliding together in a faint hiss. “You did well to prepare it this far.”

  She rose, trench coat whispering along her legs. Her movements were deliberate, fluid, like liquid deciding it preferred to be a woman. Her gaze drifted down my frame, pausing at my throat, my hands, my pulse.

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  Then she looked at Lily.

  “It must be fed flame,” she said. “Passion. Heat. Your succubus can do this.”

  Lily tilted her chin, too casual. “Of course I can.”

  “And you—” the Gorgon’s attention turned back to me, “—will steady it. Your nature will anchor what would otherwise consume her.”

  “Hold on,” I said. “You want her to what, make out with a fruit while I… supervise?”

  Lily smirked. “It’s emotional resonance, Daniel. Not foreplay.” Then, without missing a beat: “Although you wouldn’t know the difference.”

  “Hey—”

  “Enough.” The Gorgon’s tone cut through the air like a knife through silk. “The fruit is fragile. Do this quickly, or it dies. And if it dies, Jade will not be pleased. Nor will I.”

  Lily sighed, but there was a tremor underneath. She picked up the Blushfruit, cradling it like it might whisper secrets. Her shoulders relaxed, her breathing slowed, and then—like a curtain parting—her glamour shifted.

  I felt it before I saw it. The temperature in the room climbed. The space seemed smaller. The hum of the lamp turned intimate, rhythmic, like a pulse. Lily’s aura filled the room like warm honey, and even though I knew it was a byproduct of her magic, my heartbeat betrayed me.

  The fruit responded immediately. Its glow brightened, veins of red spreading through its translucent flesh.

  I stepped closer, laid my hand over hers, and the surge hit—a buzz, electric and cold all at once. My null field dampened her magic just enough, stabilizing it. The Blushfruit’s flickering steadied to a strong, glowing heartbeat.

  “Good,” the Gorgon murmured, eyes half-lidded. “Balance. Such a rare thing to witness.”

  The air grew heavy. Lily’s lips parted, breath shallow, pupils blown wide. The glow of the fruit reflected off her skin, making her look carved out of light. She whispered something—soft, almost reverent—and the glow flared again, stronger.

  Her hand twitched beneath mine, and her gaze found mine. Not the Gorgon’s. Not the fruit’s. Mine.

  Everything else fell away. The smell of ozone, the hum of the lamp, the hiss of snakes. Just her eyes, molten and alive, and the dangerous memory of the night I’d saved her—how close, how human it had felt, how uncomfortably easy it had been to cross a line for her.

  Heat flared between us, wild and mutual.

  “Careful,” the Gorgon warned. “Do not overfeed it with your… arousal.”

  I jerked back like I’d been caught cheating on a test. “Is it—uh—is it hot in here?”

  Lily shot me a look that was equal parts fury and embarrassment, her aura snapping shut like a trap. The fruit’s glow softened to something stable and calm.

  She exhaled, shaky. “It’s done.”

  The Gorgon stepped forward and closed the box. “Acceptable.” Then her eyes lingered on me again. Too long. Too still. “Strange. You resist connection. You would make a formidable mate for our kind.”

  My brain short-circuited. “Excuse me?”

  “Your blood would anchor the serpents,” she mused. “Offspring could gaze upon the world without petrification. Strong lines. Stronger control.”

  Lily went still beside me, every trace of humor gone. “Excuse me?”

  The Gorgon ignored her completely. “Think on it, Mr. Mercer. I am willing. Very.” Her fingers rose to the collar of her coat. “Even now, if it pleases you.”

  I threw up both hands. “Nope! Absolutely not. Hard pass.”

  She smiled faintly, and it was somehow worse. “You decline so quickly. Do you not enjoy temptation?”

  “Lady, I’m barely keeping my life together as it is. Adding snake kids to the mix isn’t in the budget.”

  Lily’s aura pulsed like a struck match. “He said no.”

  The Gorgon arched a brow, as if amused. “Possessive. Curious. Rare for a succubus to bind her emotions so tightly to a mortal.”

  “I’m not possessive,” Lily snapped. “I just—he’s—not—” She threw up her hands, cheeks blazing. “You know what? Forget it. Sleep with the statue-maker if you want. Just don’t expect me to watch.”

  The tension was so thick I could chew it. “Okay,” I said weakly. “So, uh… mission accomplished, right?”

  The Gorgon didn’t answer. Her head tilted sharply toward the window. One of the serpents hissed, low and furious.

  A rat darted along the sill, squeaking. Its eyes met hers. Then—stone. Mid-sprint.

  That was definitely going to piss off Willard.

  A noise rose from outside. A car alarm. Then a scream, cut short. The building shuddered like something enormous had brushed it.

  My phone buzzed on the dresser. A Hoardlink message flashed across the cracked screen: PAYMENT LOGGED. BALANCE PENDING.

  “Daniel—” Lily started.

  I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I grabbed the box and shoved it into the Gorgon’s hands. “You wanted your treasure? You’ve got it. Go.”

  Her lips parted, serpents hissing. “Our chance at lovemaking is gone, Mercer. Now we must survive.”

  Because outside, the night had changed. The silence was gone, replaced by the sound of something scraping against concrete—slow, deliberate.

  Collectors.

  And for once, the Gorgon wasn’t the most dangerous creature in the room.