LOGINđ Not for readers under 18. She was broke, burdened, and desperate⌠until she met Valerius. A mysterious billionaire with an offer too tempting to refuse: luxury, power, pleasure, if she agrees to be his sugar baby. But Valerius isnât just a man. Heâs a vampire. And with every kiss, every climax, he feeds not just on her desire, but on her soul. Because heâs not just spoiling her. Heâs claiming her.
View MoreRain tapped against the diner windows like impatient fingers. The neon sign buzzed faintly overhead, casting a sickly red glow on the cracked tiles. Chloeâs hands, wrapped around a chipped coffee mug, were trembling, not from the cold but from exhaustion.
She hadnât slept in two days. Her motherâs medication had run out three nights ago. And the rent was overdue by a week. Again. Her sneakers stuck slightly to the greasy floor as she moved behind the counter. The smell of burnt coffee and fryer oil clung to her clothes, her skin, her hair. Her back ached from the double shift, but she couldnât afford to leave early not when this weekâs tips were barely enough to cover the electric bill. âChloe,â barked her manager from the kitchen, âCustomer on table six. Move.â She forced a smile onto her face and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She looked older than twenty-two. Life had worn her down early. No college. No safety net. Just her mother Paralyzed from a stroke, her body frozen in time but her eyes still sharp with sadness and an endless string of minimum wage jobs that never lasted long enough. Table six was a man in a suit too expensive for this part of the city. His fingers drummed against the menu, arrogant and slow. He didnât look up when she approached. âWhatâll it be?â she asked, pen poised. He glanced at her, gave her a slow once-over, then smirked. âYou take tips in cash, or⌠other ways?â Chloe blinked. âExcuse me?â He leaned in, breath sour with liquor and power. âIâm just saying, you could make more in an hour with me than you do here all week.â Her grip on the pen tightened. Behind her eyes, she saw her motherâs face, pale, silent, waiting for medicine they couldnât afford. She forced her jaw to stay still. âOrder something,â she said flatly, âor leave.â He laughed. Loud. Ugly. âDonât be stupid, sweetheart. Women like you arenât made for real work.â The mug in her hand slipped. Coffee splashed across the table, right into his lap. A second of silence. Then he stood, flinging the cup aside. âYou stupid bitch!â The slap never came. Her manager stormed over, apologized profusely to the man, and turned to her with fire in his eyes. âYouâre done, Chloe. Out. Now.â She didnât argue. Just pulled off the apron, threw it on the counter, and walked out into the rain. Her sneakers were soaked by the time she reached the bus stop. The streets blurred under neon lights. Her fingers ached from the cold, but she didnât cry. She couldnât afford the luxury. Her phone buzzed, a reminder from the pharmacy. Prescription ready: $146.32. She had twelve dollars in her wallet. Chloe sat down on the cold bench and finally let herself exhale. Sheâd promised her mom sheâd fix everything. Now she couldnât even buy her seizure meds. She stared at her reflection in the bus shelter window. Hollow cheeks. Dark circles. Hair tied in a messy bun. Her shirt still smelled like grease. She looked like a girl holding on by a thread and that thread was fraying. Across the street, a flickering sign caught her eye: Horizon Staffing Agency â Work Today, Paid Today. It wasnât much. But it was something. She crossed the street without thinking, ducking under the broken awning as lightning split the sky behind her. The office smelled like stale perfume and toner ink. A woman sat behind a white desk, her lipstick a perfect, bloody red. She looked up as Chloe entered wet, desperate, clutching her purse like it held her life. âLooking for work?â the woman asked smoothly. Chloe nodded. âAnything. Please.â The womanâs eyes flicked over her assessing, almost hungry. Then she smiled, slow and secret. âHmm. Most jobs are booked today. ButâŚâ She opened a drawer and pulled out a sleek black envelope with a gold embossed crest, an old world symbol that looked like a serpent coiled around a rose. âWhatâs that?â Chloe asked, wary. âA private client. Extremely wealthy. Very⌠selective. He only hires through us. Youâd go tonight. No experience necessary. And the pay isâ⌠the woman leaned forward âsignificant.â Chloe hesitated. âWhat kind of job is it?â The woman tilted her head. âHe likes companionship. Someone to talk to. Someone to⌠listen.â Chloeâs heart pounded. âSo itâs⌠sex work?â The womanâs red lips curled. âNot quite. He doesnât want your body. Not in the way youâre thinking. He wants something deeper.â The words sent a strange chill through her. âHe will explain,â the woman said, and slipped the card into her hand. The address was embossed in gold. No name. No phone number. Just a time: Midnight. Chloe stared at it. The paper felt heavy. Luxurious. The gold shimmered in the fluorescent light. Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned it over, hoping for more information but the back was blank. âWhy me?â she asked quietly. âYou just met me.â The womanâs smile deepened. âBecause he asked for someone like you.â Like me? Chloe opened her mouth to question it but the woman was already typing again, disinterested. The conversation was over. She walked out into the night, clutching the black envelope against her chest. The rain had slowed, but the air was still heavy. Electric. She looked up at the sky, gray, churning, almost alive. Thunder rolled in the distance. Somewhere behind the clouds, the moon was watching. Midnight was four hours away. And something deep inside her whispered: This is the moment your life changes forever.Morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, brushing Chloeâs skin with a soft, golden glow. She sat on the edge of her bed, still in her silk robe, staring blankly at the glass of water she hadnât finished since last night. Her mind kept circling back to the images, the masked room, Luciusâs voice, the way heâd watched her, the slaves, the way she commanded them, the way they obeyed. It should have terrified her. Instead, it lingered like a spark that refused to go out. She pressed her palms to her eyes and exhaled. What was that place? Why did it make me feel⌠powerful? Why did it make me think of Valerius? The sharp buzz of the intercom startled her. She rose, tightening her robe, and padded barefoot to the door. When she opened it, Melinda stood there, poised, radiant as always, dressed in casual luxury. Her smile was small but warm. âHey, stranger,â Melinda said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. âI thought Iâd check on you. You didnât answer my c
Luciusâs words echoed in Chloeâs mind, his voice smooth and commanding: âYou are the mistress here. These slaves are yours to command, to tease, to torment, and to pleasure. Anything you desire, they will provide.â She took a moment to savor the weight of his words, the power they bestowed upon her. This was her domain, her playground. And these two were her toys. At first, uncertainty washed over her; she felt a familiar hesitation. Yet, deep inside, she knew this territory well, having walked it countless times with Valerius. In their dynamic, she had always played the submissive role, while he held the reins as the dominant. With a spark of determination, she resolved to embrace his approach, she would mirror Valerius's leadership, guiding them while maintaining her own integrity. It would be a delicate dance; they would only explore their own desires, never crossing the line. What exhilarated her most was the chance to step into Valerius's shoes, to experience the thrill of be
As Chloe stepped into the dimly lit private room, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes adjusted to the soft glow of candlelight. The air was thick with anticipation, heavy with the scent of incense and something else, something primal, like the promise of surrender. Her gaze drifted to the center of the room, where an opulent bed dominated the space, its velvet cushions inviting yet foreboding. Surrounding the bed were an array of instruments that made her pulse quicken: whips of varying lengths, chains draped like macabre decorations, and erotic toys that glinted under the flickering light. It was a tableau of desire and control, and Chloe felt her stomach twist with a mix of fear and fascination. Her attention was drawn downward, where two figures knelt on the plush carpet, their heads bowed in submission. They were scantily clad, their bodies taut with anticipation, every muscle seemingly poised for her command. Chloeâs eyes lingered on their exposed skin, the
The elevator doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a narrow corridor washed in crimson light. Chloe blinked, her heels clicking against the polished black floor as she followed Lucius inside. The air felt heavier down here, thick with perfume, music, and something darker she couldnât name. They moved through the corridor until they reached a set of double doors guarded by two men in black. The taller one nodded at Lucius. âWelcome back, Mr. Lucius.â âThanks,â Lucius said smoothly, sliding an arm around Chloeâs waist. âSheâs with me.â The guards stepped aside. When the doors opened, Chloe froze. It wasnât a party, it was a world. An underground club that looked like sin dipped in gold. She stepped inside, the air wrapping around her like a velvet cloak, heavy with the scent of leather, perfume, and something wilder⌠desire. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the opulent space, where every surface seemed to gleam with a forbidden promise. The room pulsed wi
A soft knock echoed through Chloeâs penthouse. It was unexpected, too polite to be the deliveryman, too confident to be anyone else. She hesitated for a second before opening the door⌠and froze. Lucius stood there, dressed in a black tuxedo that fit him like it was sewn into his soul. His dark hair was slicked back, his sharp jawline catching the golden light spilling from the hallway. In his hands, he held a massive black box tied neatly with a crimson ribbon. Chloe blinked, then let out a soft, incredulous laugh. âOh my God⌠you finally learned how to use the door. Congratulations!â She gave a mock clap, eyes glinting with playful sarcasm. Lucius rolled his eyes and stepped inside. âVery funny.â He set the box on her table with a small thud and turned toward her, his smirk curling like smoke. âYou should be thanking me, not mocking me.â âThanking you?â she repeated, crossing her arms. âFor what? Invading my quiet night again?â âNo,â Lucius said, his voice dipping low. âFor
The restaurant glittered with candlelight and crystal. A string quartet played softly in the corner, the hum of quiet conversation blending with the scent of expensive wine and perfume. Angela stepped in, wearing a simple black dress that contrasted the gold-and-marble opulence around her. She spotted Daniel immediately. He was seated near the window, the city lights framing him like an illusion of warmth and charm. He stood when he saw her, smiling that practiced, charming smile she used to fall for. âAngela,â he greeted smoothly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. âYou look beautiful as ever.â She gave a polite nod and sat down. âDaniel. You said it was important.â He sighed, gesturing to the waiter. âLetâs order first, hmm? I donât want us to start on an empty stomach.â âIâd rather we talk first,â Angela said, folding her hands neatly on the table. âYou didnât invite me here to talk about food.â Daniel chuckled, but there was a nervous edge behind his grin. âAlways so direct. Fine
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