Chosen by the Living Reaper: But I Was the Succubus He Couldn't Resist
As a highborn succubus, I somehow managed to starve myself to death-thanks to my obsessive cleanliness and ridiculously picky appetite.
When I opened my eyes again, I had transmigrated into Vivian Hartwell-the long-lost "real" daughter with a tragically cursed fate.
I had barely been taken back into the Hartwell family before they forced me to attend a so-called "death matchmaking" event in Kingsford-on behalf of Natalie Hartwell, the fake heiress-to meet Damian Blackwood, the infamous "living reaper."
Rumor had it Damian was brutal and bloodthirsty-every woman who'd ever been involved with him either ended up dead or driven insane.
At the event, over a hundred socialites were trembling on their knees, silently praying they wouldn't be the one chosen.
Just as Damian let out a cold smirk and reached to pick his unlucky victim, I took a deep breath from the back of the crowd.
The scent emanating from him was a rare, potent masculine essence-something encountered perhaps once in ten millennia.
For a painfully picky succubus like me, this was nothing short of salvation.
I kicked aside the girl blocking my way, my eyes practically glowing as I threw both hands up. "Pick me! Hurry, pick me!"
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Chapter 4
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."
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7.6
Isolde Mitchell knew her wealthy husband was cheating on her, but the true nightmare began when her mother-in-law summoned her.
The older woman coldly announced that the mistress was pregnant with a boy and would be moving into their estate.
Because Isolde's family had gone bankrupt and she had only given birth to a frail daughter, she was deemed completely worthless.
When Isolde packed her bags and demanded a divorce, her husband Clark just laughed.
He threatened to use their ironclad prenup to leave her penniless and take full custody of her daughter just to torture her.
To make matters worse, he forced Isolde to secure a failing business deal with the ruthless billionaire Jacques Valdez, essentially ordering her to sell her body to get the signature.
"If you fail, you will never see Bria again."
He even sent his goons to snatch the little girl from her preschool to prove his point.
Isolde was completely cornered, trembling with a mix of rage and absolute despair.
How could the man she married be such a monster? She would rather die than let them destroy her daughter, but how could a bankrupt mother fight a powerful dynasty with absolutely nothing?
Out of options, she looked at the private business card the terrifying billionaire Jacques had unexpectedly given her daughter.
Swallowing her pride, she decided to make a deal with the devil himself, ready to use his power to tear her husband's family apart.
9.5
Blaire's mother gave her a ruthless ultimatum: find a husband today, or never call her mother again.
Desperate to escape the suffocating control and disastrous blind dates, Blaire agreed to a fake marriage with a stranger she met through an old woman.
She thought she was marrying a dirt-poor salesman drowning in mortgage debt.
They lived in a rundown Queens apartment and split the living expenses fifty-fifty.
He drove a sputtering Toyota Camry, established extreme territorial rules, and treated her like a gold-digging biohazard.
When she accidentally tripped and spilled hot soup on him, he didn't help her up, instead accusing her of using pathetic tricks to seduce him.
Her own mother even crashed their apartment, ruthlessly mocking his pathetic financial state and calling him a total loser.
Blaire endured his coldness and extreme germaphobia, genuinely pitying him for his stressful, low-paying job.
She refunded his money and defended his dignity, refusing to take advantage of a struggling man.
But she couldn't understand why this supposedly broke guy possessed such a lethal, commanding aura, or why an incredibly expensive cashmere blanket mysteriously appeared on her when she was freezing on the couch.
Until her brother called with a shocking warning.
"Blaire, the name on your marriage certificate belongs to the notoriously secretive billionaire CEO of New York's top financial syndicate!"
Blaire laughed out loud, completely unaware that behind the bedroom door, her "broke" husband was frantically ordering his PR team to bury his true identity.
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."
8.4
Kenzie, the former leader of the Aegis Alliance, opened her eyes to find herself reincarnated as a freezing, abandoned infant in a wet cardboard box.
She was rescued from the rain by Devin Ayers, a ruthless billionaire, and rushed to a private hospital, but a deadly threat was already waiting for her.
The ER doctor, Desiree Dillon, approached her with a syringe. Through a sudden burst of telepathy, Kenzie read the doctor's dark thoughts. Desiree wasn't trying to cure her fever. She deliberately ignored the safe dosage, drawing a lethal amount of Diazepam to permanently silence the crying baby and disguise it as sudden infant death.
"This will make it all go away," Desiree smiled gently, the needle glinting as it moved inches from Kenzie's arm.
Trapped in a weak, paralyzed three-month-old body, Kenzie couldn't run, fight, or even speak. She could only watch the poison inch closer.
How could she survive death only to be assassinated in a hospital bed by a corrupt doctor? She used to command armies. The sheer injustice and terror of dying completely helpless in this tiny body ignited a blinding rage inside her.
Refusing to be a victim again, Kenzie pushed her newborn brain to its absolute limit and unleashed a desperate telepathic scream directly into the billionaire's mind.
"Poison! She's trying to kill me!"
Devin, who had been looking away, suddenly froze, his icy gray eyes locking onto the doctor's wrist.
9.6
Antoinette stood on the manicured church lawn, the blinding summer sun stabbing her eyes. The funeral service for her parents had just ended.
A hand wrapped around her trembling shoulder, carrying the sharp, cloying scent of Fabian Cash's cologne. It was the exact same cologne her fiancé wore the night he locked her in a burning house to die in her previous life.
Now, wearing a mask of sorrowful devotion, Fabian tried to drag her to his car to control her parents' massive life insurance payout.
When she shoved him away in pure nausea, his mother Eleanor immediately shrieked to the crowd, deploying her usual guilt trip.
"She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!"
The townspeople whispered and pointed fingers, watching Fabian play the victim as he tightened his bruising grip on her wrist, claiming she was hysterical and needed to be locked away.
Antoinette stared at the mother and son who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her felt like battery acid pumping through her veins.
They didn't care if she lived or died; they only cared about the money. How could she let them strip her of everything again?
She didn't hesitate. She swung with every bit of strength she possessed, slapping Fabian across the face in front of the entire town.
"The engagement is over," she announced coldly.
Then, she turned her back on her greedy ex-fiancé and walked straight toward the terrifyingly powerful billionaire Hiram Graves, ready to let the world burn.
7.9
Erin woke up in her luxurious Fifth Avenue penthouse, three days after returning from the cold, sterile psychiatric hospital where her husband had locked her away.
On the night of their third anniversary, Crockett Winters came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, expecting his docile wife to serve him.
Instead of playing the obedient fool, Erin calmly exposed the million-dollar diamonds he had just bought for his lover.
Furious at her sudden defiance, Crockett tried to physically intimidate her, pinning her against a wall to reassert his dominance.
When his aggression failed, he threw a brutal divorce agreement on the table.
"Sign it, and you walk away with nothing. You can't survive without me, and you know it."
He sneered, convinced the ironclad prenup would terrify her. He thought her rebellion was just a pathetic, jealous tantrum, a desperate play for his attention while he continued to pamper his mistress.
He truly believed she was just a beautiful canary who would eventually crawl back to her gilded cage in tears.
But Erin didn't cry, and she didn't sign the papers.
Instead, she locked him out of the master suite and pulled out his unlimited Centurion card.
In a single night, she calmly spent ninety million dollars of his money to buy up prime real estate and hidden assets, taking the first step to build an empire that would completely destroy him.