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Chapter 6: THE FIRST HOWL
Huling Na-update:
2025-05-12 20:35:54
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A Luna And A Whore Chapter 11: THE BITE IN HER BLOOD
The velvet gloves were gone.Jasmine walked alone now, deeper into the belly of the House of Solace, past places where girls whispered and the air shimmered with perfume and secrets. But this hallway... this one had no scent. No candle smoke. No laughter. The floorboards moaned under her bare feet like they hadn’t been touched in years.She had never been here. And yet her skin knew the walls, the hush, the curve of shadow. The house held memories she hadn’t yet made.Behind her, the parlor simmered with the last echoes of her performance. The man had fled—silent and shaken, gloved hand trembling as he vanished into the dark. And Jasmine had let him go.Her blood still hummed.She shouldn’t be able to hear her own heartbeat this loud. It was in her ears, her throat, between her legs.She found the door at the end of the hallway by instinct. A forgotten corner, warped wood painted over too many times. She didn’t knock. The door opened like it wanted her.Inside: a circular room, panele
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 10: A GLOVE ON HER NECK
The night leaned in close.A hush had fallen over the parlor like silk dropped from a height. Firelight breathed golden onto the walls, licking the velvet drapes, stretching the shadows tall and watching. Jasmine stood beneath the chandelier, her back bare, spine gleaming like a blade, corset laced cruel and high.Elora’s voice trailed off behind her, murmuring instructions to one of the girls. Distant laughter spilled from the upstairs landing.....a perfume of mirth Jasmine couldn’t feel. Not tonight.Tonight, her mouth tasted of ash and wine and something else.The man had arrived just after moonrise, escorted without introduction, but Elora’s glance had lingered longer than usual....just a flick of the eyes, barely a nod. Enough to mean danger, or delight. Often both.He waited in the Velvet Room.Jasmine walked with the slow confidence of someone who owned every eye that dared touch her. But inside, there was something keening. Her thoughts flared and curled, restless as the smoke
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 9: THE VELVET ROOM
The House of Solace, just past midnight.The hallway leading to the Velvet Room never held its breath so tightly. Silence had weight here...... pressed into the maroon wallpaper, soaked into the carpet, pooling beneath Jasmine’s bare feet like wine spilled from a cracked decanter. The further she walked, the more the air thickened, the closer the room drew her in, as if the walls themselves leaned in to watch.The brothel behind her still hummed faintly—laughter, music, a wet moan smothered by velvet cushions. But Jasmine had left all that heat and glitter behind. Here, things moved slower. Sharper.She paused at the threshold, hand resting on the doorknob of lacquered onyx. Her reflection in the polished metal caught her eye. A dark mouth. A darker gaze. No jewels tonight. No flowers pinned to her hair. Just the silk of her robe whispering open at the thighs and the confidence of a woman who knew her tongue could cut just as sweetly as it could coax.He was already waiting inside.Th
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 8: THE PRICE OF A LOOK
The parlor glowed with the amber hush of candlelight, each flame trembling like a secret about to be whispered. Incense slithered through the air.....honeysuckle, something muskier beneath. Velvet hung in thick folds over the tall windows, sealing the room like a memory, and the women of the House of Solace were scattered like jewels, lounging on settees and polished arms of chairs, casting laughter and lashes at whichever man they had chosen to devour.Jasmine sat apart.She wore a wine-colored slip of silk, so thin it clung to her skin like breath. Her legs were folded beneath her, and her gaze traced the rim of her glass as though reading a fortune in the shape of the red wine. She was not looking at the door when it opened, nor when he entered—but every muscle in her body knew the exact moment he stepped through.Not Roger.Not anyone she knew.He moved like winter. Slow, assessing, tall enough to command a room with posture alone. His coat was tailored black, the collar slightly
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 7: THE MAN WITH WOLF'S EYES
The following morning, House of Solace.The rain had stopped, but the world still dripped.Water clung to every eave and ledge, slipping down in slow, deliberate drops. The streets beyond the House of Solace shimmered with it, cobbled bones slick with the night’s memory. Morning sunlight hung behind the clouds like a ghost—present, but unwilling to touch anything too intimately. The scent of rain mixed with the warm perfume of bodies within, and Jasmine stood in the hallway feeling both too clean and too undone.She had slept poorly, if sleep was the word for it. Dreams had coiled tight around her—half-formed shapes and animal sounds, the kind that don’t sit behind your eyelids but instead crawl under your skin. At some point, she'd kicked her covers off, body flushed. She’d awoken with her fingers pressed between her thighs and her chest aching, breath caught on something she couldn’t name.And she remembered the howl.Not heard, but felt. Not part of a dream, but something deeper. L
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 6: THE FIRST HOWL
The same night. Where dreams break skin.The moon did not rise. It arrived—like a god who no longer asked permission.It spilled through the window above Jasmine’s bed in thick sheets of silver, catching in the soft waves of her hair, gilding her throat, her collarbone, the curve of one hip slipping from beneath the quilt. Her sleep was not quiet. Not the sleep of peace. It was a sleep stretched thin by the edges of hunger. Of something coming. Something watching.Her fingers twitched first. A single, slow curl like a secret tightening around her.Then her breathing shifted—no longer soft and steady, but caught... trembling on a rhythm not her own. She lay there, half-tangled in velvet sheets that remembered the sweat of pleasure, the scent of Elora’s oils and power, her limbs splayed like she had once begged and once bitten, and neither had been enough.The House of Solace slumbered around her. Girls curled like cats in window seats. Candles guttered. Wine stains dried on lipsticked
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 5: THE CHEST BENEATH HER BED
The hallway outside Jasmine’s room moaned like an old woman, wood swelling and sighing in the heat that had not yet broken. The candle she carried burned low, its wax dribbling down her wrist like white blood, unnoticed. Her bare feet made no sound on the Persian runner, but the walls heard her. They always had.Behind her, the House of Solace softened into sleep. Velvet laughter faded into the hush of closing doors, silk whispering against skin, muffled gasps folded into pillows. The scent of pleasure still clung to the air—opium, sweat, the hot-spilled musk of men who wanted to forget. But Jasmine was wide awake.Inside her room, the mirror caught her like it always did: untamed. The red silk robe she’d thrown on hung open, careless, the shadows of her collarbones sharp enough to slice moonlight. Her curls were a storm over one shoulder. She looked like a woman who had just ruined someone’s life...... and had done it slowly.But tonight, there was no client. No hungry stare to meet
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 4: THE GIRL WHO NEVER SAYS YES
The House of Solace breathed in twilight hush, the last violet threads of dusk dissolving into the velvet dark. A warm amber glow hummed low behind brocade curtains, casting silhouettes of bodies and smoke onto the walls. Jasmine moved like she always did at this hour...... not with haste, not with hesitation...... but with the slow elegance of a secret being kept.She passed by the main parlor without glancing in, even though she felt the weight of eyes from within. Men lounged like softened wax across plush settees, their desire simmering just beneath the surface, held in check only by the rules of this place...... and by her refusal to be caught.Her scent was a paradox...... gardenia and cigarette ash, innocence tangled with ruin. A client once said she smelled like a prayer whispered by a sinner. She had smiled then, slow and cruel, and walked away before he could offer his devotion.They called her Jasmine, but never sweetly. Her name floated through the halls like an unanswered
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 3: SMOKE IN THE BALCONY
The House of Solace never truly slept. It exhaled in velvet sighs, breathed in the perfume of desire, pulsed with laughter that was always half a lie. But at night—true night, when the guests thinned and only the devout or the damned remained—it shimmered in its rawest form.Jasmine stood on the balcony above the central courtyard, barefoot, one hand resting on the iron railing carved with climbing roses. Her cigarette burned low between two fingers, the ember a small, smoldering heart. Below her, candlelight flickered across satin sheets, mirrored walls, bare skin. Music curled upward like incense. A violin. Slow, haunted. Always just on the edge of moan.The rain had stopped, but everything still glistened. The cobblestones were slick. A single streetlamp outside the gate flickered like it was deciding whether to survive the night. Jasmine took another drag, lips wrapped around the filter with lazy elegance. Smoke curled through her lashes. She didn’t blink.Behind her, the doors to
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