"One drop should be more than enough to heighten his sexual desires," the merchant from the city of Calum had told her, his voice filled with absolute certainty. Vivian hadn’t doubted it—not after testing it herself on one of her own servants.
I used three. That should be more than enough.
I just need to sleep with him one more time, she told herself, her inner voice breathless with urgency. She had ensured the fragrance was potent enough to make him obsessed with her—desire her, need her, and want no one else.
"Lord Zyren!" she called out sweetly, bowing her head so low it nearly touched the floor the second she was close enough. His guards parted at her approach, revealing her slim figure without fully stepping back—offering no true distance, no true welcome.
"I apologize for abruptly stopping you," she added, lowering into a curtsy with exaggerated grace, the silk of her coat brushing the stone floor.
"Yes, Lady Vivian," Zyren said, his voice cold and expression unreadable. He didn’t stop walking, only paused for the briefest moment before giving her a sidelong glance.
"You can walk behind me. I’ll drink from you in my office." He gestured lazily, already moving forward again with long, unhurried strides as he ascended toward the topmost floor of the palace—his private wing.
Vivian’s heart fluttered with triumph, her eyes gleaming. She bowed again, a wide, hungry smile spreading across her face as she followed closely behind him. She had to bite her inner cheek to suppress the urge to run ahead and cling to his side like a favored consort.
They reached his office, and the guards stationed themselves at the door while Zyren ushered her inside without a word. The room was vast and darkly furnished, shadows clinging to the high walls. Books lined the shelves and a massive table sat beneath a chandelier that cast a dull, golden glow.
Her red eyes sparkled like garnets as she stepped further in, gripping her coat tightly with both arms—barely able to contain her anticipation.
She couldn’t stop staring at him.
Zyren was the only man she had ever longed for—his powerful form, his timeless face. He was perfection made flesh. Her mind reeled with memories of the night he’d taken her, how she had barely slept, intoxicated by his touch.
The desire that gripped her now was nearly unbearable. Her eyes burned as she stared at him—Gods, if she looked a second longer, she might climax from the sight of him alone.
Zyren sat in a grand leather chair behind the desk, his crimson gaze impassive as he looked at her.
That was all the permission she needed.
Vivian immediately stood tall and moved forward, her fingers moving with practiced slowness as she slipped her coat from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground with a soft thud.
Her body was completely exposed—her breasts bare and high, nipples already hardened in the cold air. She wore nothing but a sheer crimson skirt that brushed her ankles, so transparent that nothing underneath was hidden from view.
I even went as far as to dye my hair red, she thought, her lips parting with hope. He’ll be captivated by me. He has to be.
Swaying her hips in time with her breath, she glided toward him with sultry confidence, her eyes locked on his face as a seductive smile curled her lips.
"Should I—should I sit on your...?" she asked softly, the rest of the sentence lingering on her tongue, waiting for his cue to perch on his lap like that human girl always did.
Her smile widened in anticipation when he rose to his feet—but instead of reaching for her, he merely pointed to the massive oak table beside them.
"You can sit on the table," he said, his tone impersonal—like he was speaking to a servant.
Vivian faltered. She couldn’t hide her surprise, her expression tightening ever so slightly as she forced herself to obey, mentally assuring herself, Maybe the fragrance hasn’t kicked in yet...
She sat on the edge of the table and tilted her neck, baring it fully for him, every muscle in her body taut with expectation. Her breath quickened.
She didn’t have to wait long. Zyren leaned in, his fangs descending with practiced grace before he sank them into her throat.
Her moans came instantly.
They grew louder, more desperate with every pull of blood. Her spine arched as she shoved her breasts toward his chest, yearning for the touch of his pale skin against hers. Her fingers drifted down between her legs, stroking herself as she angled her neck to give him better access.
Her body burned—so much so that she could hardly control it. The fragrance she had sprayed on her skin was activating now, mixing with the heady euphoria of being fed on. Her blood surged and pulsed, her desire spiraling out of control.
With a gasp, she collapsed forward into him, clutching at his arms. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she begged, her voice breaking with arousal.
"My King," she moaned. "I need you!"
She leaned in, preparing to straddle him, to throw herself at his mercy—but just as her legs shifted, Zyren retracted his fangs.
"No—!" she whispered in stunned confusion.
She blinked, mouth agape, heart pounding. She stared up at him in shock as he licked the blood from his lips and calmly returned to his chair—completely unmoved.
"My king," she gasped. "I can satisfy you!" Her voice trembled as she scrambled to regain his attention, to stop him from sending her away like a common blood letter.
Panic surged through her as she dropped to her knees before him, pressing her hands to his thighs as she tilted her head up, desperation thick in her tone.
"My king..." she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, seductive and trembling. "I can make you feel good..."
Zyren said nothing, his eyes still closed, his head tilted back, basking in the high of freshly drawn blood. She could tell he was slightly buzzed—his chest rising and falling slowly with contentment.
She didn’t wait for a command.
Her hands went to the buttons of his pants, undoing them with practiced ease. Her fingers dipped inside, pulling out his aroused member, and her eyes lit up at the sight.
He’s hard... He wants this... He wants me, she thought frantically.
"I can use my lips," she whispered, already leaning in—certain that this was the moment she would reclaim his favor, his desire, her place beside him.