I struggled with everything I had and sank my teeth straight into Damian's wrist.

Damian grunted in pain, his grip loosening instinctively.

I seized the chance, twisting free and rolling off him to the other side of the bed, clutching my throat as I coughed violently.

Damian's expression darkened instantly, his face turning stormy.

"In the middle of the night, you climb into my bed? Talk. What exactly are you trying to do?"

I coughed until tears blurred my vision, then decided to play dumb all the way. "I… I just wanted to give you a goodnight kiss!"

Damian stared at me for a few seconds, as if weighing whether I was lying.

In the end, he threw off the covers and got out of bed, his tall frame radiating pure pressure.

"Get back to your room."

I shrank back, scrambled off the bed, and bolted out of his room like I was escaping for my life.

The next morning, I was jolted awake by a series of urgent knocks.

A maid stood at the door, expressionless, holding out a set of clothes.

"Mr. Blackwood asked you to put this on."

It was a custom silk nightdress, smooth to the touch and obviously expensive.

After changing, I stepped out of the room barefoot.

Voices from the Hartwell family echoed from the hall downstairs.

I walked to the top of the stairs and looked down.

Natalie was clinging to Margaret's arm, a smug, almost gleeful look on her face.

Richard stood nearby, rubbing his hands together as he spoke to the butler with an ingratiating smile.

They were here to collect a corpse.

They must've assumed Damian had already killed me and came prepared to put on a show—cry, make a scene, and squeeze out a massive payout.

Margaret looked up—and froze when she saw me standing on the stairs.

Her expression locked in place, like she'd just seen a ghost.

"Vivian? How are you…"

Natalie froze too, her eyes glued to my expensive nightdress, jealousy practically blazing out of them.

Margaret recovered first, instantly switching to a doting mother act as she hurried toward the stairs, reaching for my hand.

"Vivian, thank God you're okay! I was so worried about you!"

As she spoke, she lowered her voice so only I could hear her.

"You're lucky you didn't die. Behave yourself, serve Mr. Blackwood properly, and bring more money back to the family."

I pulled away in disgust. Looking at her fake smile made my stomach churn.

At that moment, the study door opened, and Damian stepped out.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, radiating an untouchable, intimidating aura.

The moment Richard saw him, he rushed forward with a fawning smile.

"Mr. Blackwood, my daughter Vivian grew up in the countryside and lacks manners. If she offended you in any way, I hope you'll be forgiving."

I let out a cold laugh and slowly rolled up the sleeve of my silk nightdress in front of everyone.

My arm was covered in dense, crisscrossing scars.

Long whip marks, round cigarette burns, and scars from frostbite.

Every single one of them was thanks to the Hartwell family.

"This is what life looked like for your so-called 'ill-mannered' daughter in your family!"

The entire hall fell silent.

Damian's gaze locked onto my scars, the pressure around him dropping to something suffocating.

Natalie's face turned deathly ashen.

She quickly put on a pitiful expression, her eyes reddening as she tried to defend herself.

"Vivian, you can't lie and frame us just to get Mr. Blackwood's attention! You were clearly the one who—"

"Enough."

Damian cut her off coldly, ending her performance.

"Even the dogs in my family live better than she did."

He strode over and stopped beside me, his tall frame like a wall, shielding me completely.

Without sparing the Hartwells another glance, he gave a simple order to the butler.

"Throw them out."

The three of them were roughly seized by the guards and dragged toward the door.

As Natalie passed by me, her face twisted as she spat her curse.

"Mr. Blackwood's just never played with someone like you before. Once the novelty wears off, he'll torture you to death!"

The three members of the Hartwell family were dragged out of the Blackwood estate like garbage, Margaret's unwilling wails and curses echoing from outside the gate.

Right in front of me, Damian made another call.

"Cut off all cooperation with Hartwell Group. I want a report showing their cash flow collapse within thirty minutes."

I stood there, completely stunned.

The Hartwell Group might not compare to the Blackwoods, but in Kingsford, they were still a name that mattered.

And just like that, one call from Damian could destroy them?

Was he… doing this for me?

The moment that thought surfaced, my heart started pounding uncontrollably.

Almost without thinking, I reached out and grabbed the edge of his suit jacket.

He stopped mid-step, his body going stiff.

I tilted my head up, cautiously studying his profile. "Are you… doing this to stand up for me?"

Damian stiffly pulled his jacket free, turning his head away as he let out a cold snort.

"Don't flatter yourself. They just dirtied my carpet."

There he went again.

Saying the harshest things, yet doing the kindest ones.

How could someone be this awkward… and somehow this adorable?

An unfamiliar impulse surged through me.

Without thinking, I rushed forward and wrapped my arms tightly around him from behind.

"Damian, I really like you!"

I meant every word.

For a succubus who'd been starving for centuries, Damian was both a walking feast and the one who stood up for me.

How could I not like him?

I was practically obsessed.

The moment I hugged him, his entire body went rigid.

His hands froze at his sides, like he had no idea what to do with them.

It took him a full ten seconds before he seemed to regain control, grabbing the back of my collar and yanking me off him.

"You crazy woman! Touch me like that again and I'll throw you out to the dogs!"

He was practically shouting.

Dangling in his grip, my feet off the ground, I wasn't scared at all.

Through his slightly messy hair, I caught sight of his ears—flushed so red they looked like they might bleed.

He was embarrassed.

The so-called living reaper, feared for his brutality, was actually flustered by nothing more than a hug and a confession.

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

Damian's face darkened even further. He tossed me onto the sofa and stormed into the study, slamming the door behind him.

That night, even after eating my fill, I couldn't fall asleep no matter how much I tossed and turned.

All I could think about was the way his ears had turned red.

By midnight, that familiar hunger began creeping back in.

No matter how full I was, for a succubus, the only real sustenance was essence.

After hesitating again and again, I still couldn't resist slipping into Damian's bedroom once more.

This time, I didn't dare entertain any bold ideas.

I simply leaned closer to the bed, gazing at his sleeping face, then quickly pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his forehead—light as a butterfly's wing.

Just that tiny trace of essence was enough to carry me through the night.

In the darkness, I clearly saw his long lashes tremble—just once.

But he never opened his eyes… and he didn't push me away.

Over the next week, I fully committed to my role as an unapologetic cling-on.

When Damian went to the study, I dragged over a little stool and sat by his feet, pretending to read.

When he went to eat, I sat right next to him and picked all the bell peppers he didn't like into my own plate.

When he took a walk in the garden, I followed behind him like a shadow, stepping right where his shadow fell.

Every day, Damian had something harsh to say—"Get lost," "Stay away from me," "Annoy me again and I'll throw you out."

But not once did he actually push me away.

The servants' looks toward me shifted too—from pity and disdain to something closer to disbelief… and maybe even a hint of respect.

That evening, Damian was heading to a business gala.

He didn't invite me outright, but he had a stylist deliver a row of haute couture gowns for me to choose from.

I picked a fiery red strapless gown.

In the mirror, the girl's skin was porcelain tender, the red dress blazing against it, her hair cascading like silk.

Features that had once seemed dull from long-term malnourishment were now, after a week of care, beginning to reveal striking beauty.

Even I was momentarily stunned by my own reflection.

Damian stood behind me, watching my reflection. His throat bobbed subtly, his gaze darkening.

The gala was alive with clinking glasses and elegantly dressed guests.

The moment Damian appeared, he became the center of attention.

When he walked in holding my hand, nearly every gaze in the room stuck to us.

Awe, jealousy, curiosity…

I could feel every bit of it.

"Mr. Blackwood, and this is…?" A man who had worked with Damian approached with a glass in hand, his gaze lingering on me inappropriately.

Damian pulled me closer against him, cutting off that lingering gaze.

"She's mine."

Two words. Simple. Absolute.

That was a public acknowledgment of who I was to him.

A warmth spread through me, and I tightened my hold on his arm.

From across the room, a venomous gaze shot toward me.

I looked up and met Natalie's face, twisted with jealousy.

She was there too, dressed in a pristine white gown, standing beside some rich heir she'd latched onto, looking soft and innocent.

But the hatred in her eyes looked like it could tear me apart.

I lifted my chin at her and gave a deliberately provoking smile.

Natalie's face drained of color as she clenched her fists.

After a while, Damian moved off to discuss business with a few influential figures.

I casually took a glass of champagne from a passing server and wandered around.

It didn't take long before something felt off.

A strange heat rose from within, growing stronger by the second, like countless ants gnawing through my body.

My temperature was spiking.

The succubus bloodline inside me felt like it had been triggered, surging wildly, almost beyond control.

I could even feel an itch spreading across my forehead—my horns were about to emerge.

My face turned ashen with fear—and then I saw Natalie's sinister smile not far away.

It was her!

She shot a look to the man beside her.

The man started walking toward me, reaching out to drag me away.

"Don't touch her!"

Damian had returned at some point, knocking the man to the ground with a single punch.

I clutched onto Damian's arm.

"Damian… I… I don't feel right…"

He caught me as I swayed, pressing a hand to my forehead—his expression darkening instantly.

Without another word, Damian scooped me up into his arms and strode toward the hotel rooms, ignoring the stunned looks around us.

My consciousness was already starting to blur.

All I knew was that I was held in a broad, warm embrace, his masculine essence filling my senses, grounding me.

So close, his presence felt like the most dangerous kind of trigger.

My body completely lost control.

Damian laid me on the soft bed. Seeing my flushed face and rapid breathing, he assumed I was seriously ill and turned to call for a doctor.

"Wait here. I'll get someone—"

Before he could finish, I grabbed his wrist.

With the last of my strength, I pulled him down toward me.

The world spun, and in the next moment, I had flipped over and pinned him onto the bed.

Our breaths tangled in the heated air.

Pinned beneath me, Damian froze, completely caught off guard.

"Vivian, get off me—now!"

He tried to push me away, but under the surge of my succubus bloodline, my strength was overwhelming.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and locked his shoulders in place.

"I'm burning… Damian… it hurts…"

My voice trembled, on the edge of tears. My mind was slipping, leaving only raw instinct behind.

I needed him.

Like a restless creature seeking comfort, I lowered my head, pressing clumsy, desperate kisses against his lips, tugging at his shirt.

"Vivian!"

Damian's voice turned rough, strained with restraint.

He caught my wandering hands, trying to ground me. "Snap out of it. You've been drugged!"

But I couldn't hear him anymore.

All I knew was that his warmth could soothe the fire inside me.

I looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes, my voice breaking. "Help me… please, Damian…"

In Damian's eyes, the girl's gaze was glazed with an unnatural flush, her eyes shimmering with tears—like a lost fawn on the verge of being abandoned.

Fragile… and dangerously alluring.

Damian's breath hitched, his gaze darkening.

In the end, reason gave way, retreating under the overwhelming tide of desire.

He flipped us over, pinning me beneath him, reclaiming control. His voice dropped low and rough beside my ear.

"You brought this on yourself."