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Chosen by the Living Reaper: But I Was the Succubus He Couldn't Resist Novel Cover

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 5

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I found myself lying on a hotel bed, my whole body sore like I'd been run over by a truck.

Beside me, Damian was fast asleep.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his sharply defined features.

Memories of the night before rushed back like a tide.

I… I actually… devoured him completely?

Guiltily, I licked my lips, replaying the sensation.

Mm. It was… incredible.

The burning heat inside me was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of fullness and satisfaction.

When I looked at Damian again, his brows were slightly furrowed, his complexion… a bit ashen.

My heart skipped.

Oh no. Did I go a little too far?

It had been my first proper "meal" in centuries… I might've lost control.

Looking at his slightly worn expression in sleep, a wave of guilt crept over me.

No. Taking everything and running? That was a total jerk move.

I should… take responsibility?

No, wait. How would I even do that? Tell him I'm a succubus?

That would scare him off for sure.

I quietly slipped out of bed. Just as I bent down to pick up the torn pieces of my dress, a large hand reached out from behind and grabbed my ankle.

"Full already, and planning to run?"

His voice came from behind me, low and rough with sleep.

I froze, then slowly turned around, forcing out a placating smile. "Good… morning, Mr. Blackwood."

Damian had already sat up, the sheets slipping down to reveal several faint, suggestive scratches across his chest.

He narrowed his eyes at me, his gaze dangerous. "What did you call me last night? Damian… hmm?"

I wished I could disappear on the spot.

"Well… last night was an accident. I was drugged, I wasn't thinking straight…"

"And?" he raised a brow. "You're not taking responsibility?"

"I…"

"Vivian," he cut me off, his tone absolute. "Don't ever think about leaving me."

Natalie could never have imagined that her scheme to ruin me would end up pushing Damian and me closer together.

Unwilling to accept it, she paid someone to fabricate a video portraying me as promiscuous.

In the video, "I" was seen hanging off a group of sleazy men, speaking with obvious disdain.

"Damian? What's so great about him? I'm only interested in his money. Once I become Mrs. Blackwood and get what I want, I'll dump him. I don't love him at all."

Natalie anonymously sent the video to Damian's private inbox.

Even though Damian immediately saw through the fake.

Still, hearing those words—even knowing they were false—left a thorn in his heart.

Of course, he only told me all this after I'd… worn him down in bed.

But I could clearly feel the distance he started putting between us.

He stopped letting me into his study, kept his distance at meals, and sent me straight back to the guest room at night.

I couldn't figure it out.

Could it be… I really overdid it that night?

Did I… break him?

So his pride took a hit, and now he's avoiding me?

Highly possible.

For the sake of my future "food supply"—and to make it up to him—I looked up a ton of information and had the kitchen prepare all kinds of restorative dishes.

All kinds of supposed aphrodisiacs—oysters, rich tonics, and every kind of so-called energy-boosting delicacy.

Damian looked at the table full of "recovery foods," then at my completely sincere, well-meaning face.

His expression went from stunned, to dark, and finally… he actually laughed in anger.

"Vivian."

He gritted his teeth and stepped toward me.

I backed away, confused. "Wh-what's wrong? Don't you like it? I had them make it just for you…"

He suddenly grabbed me, hoisting me over his shoulder, and strode toward the bedroom.

"I'll show you firsthand what I'm really capable of."

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