Chapter Four
Odette
Dinner is over. Luther pays the bill with a quiet efficiency that suggests he’s used to taking care of things, controlling situations. He’s dangerous—not in the way most of my clients are, fumbling with bravado or playing with power. No, his danger runs deeper. I can sense it, but I can’t put my finger on it yet. No matter, he can't be as scary as me. There’s something about him that pulls me in, like a moth too stupid to avoid the flame.
I’m stuffed. The Wagyu was divine, and while the deep-fried crab roll was a decadent treat, it’s the Wagyu tartar—raw and bloody—that satisfied a deeper hunger. Human food doesn’t nourish me, but the flavors, the textures… I savor them like a human might savor a rare indulgence. Still, nothing compares to the rich, metallic sweetness of a thick cup of O negative.
As we leave the restaurant, Luther’s hand brushes against the small of my back. His touch lingers, possessive but not heavy-handed. It’s like he’s staking a claim. Normally, I’d bristle at that, but with him? It feels… thrilling. I can sense his tension, the tightly coiled energy that’s just waiting to snap. My instincts tell me he’s dangerous in ways I don’t fully understand, but I’ve lived through centuries of danger. I can handle a man like Luther.
I take his hand and lead him toward the elevator. I can hear his heartbeat, steady but just a fraction faster than normal. He’s trying to play it cool, but I know better. I’m used to men wanting me, but Luther’s desire is different. It’s not just lust. It’s hunger. It's an unfiltered need.
The elevator ride is silent, charged with tension. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His jaw is tight, his lips pressed into a firm line. He’s holding himself back, but just barely. The predator in me finds it exhilarating. He thinks he’s the one in control, but he has no idea.
When we reach my suite, I unlock the door and push it open, stepping inside and turning to invite him in. Before I can say a word, Luther shoves me inside and slams the door shut behind him. The force of it makes my breath hitch—not from fear, but from anticipation. His lips are on my neck and shoulder in seconds, kissing, licking, biting his way across every inch of exposed skin he can reach. It’s raw, frantic, and utterly consuming.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growls against my skin, his voice rough. His hands grab the hem of my crop top and rip it away from my body. The thin straps between my breasts snap easily under his strength. I let out a gasp, half-surprise, half-pleasure, as the cool air kisses my bare skin.
He doesn’t hesitate. His large hands grip my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist as his mouth latches onto a nipple. The heat of his tongue against my sensitive skin sends a shiver down my spine. I dig my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, arching my back to give him more.
“Luther,” I murmur, my voice a breathy whisper. It’s a warning and a plea all at once.
He growls in response, his teeth grazing my skin. He’s rough, almost feral, and I love it. My kind doesn’t feel pain the way humans do, but the sharp edge of his passion ignites the primal side in me.
He carries me to the bed, dropping me onto the plush mattress. I bounce slightly, laughing softly at his sheer urgency. He looms over me, his chest heaving, his eyes dark and blazing with desire. For a moment, I’m mesmerized. He’s beautiful—all sharp angles and raw masculinity, like a marble statue come to life. But there’s more to him than his looks.
His gaze flicks to the bed for just a moment, catching sight of the condoms scattered across it—every size and flavor imaginable.
"You really came prepared," he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement. His eyes flick back to mine, dark and burning with intent. "But they’re not needed... yet."
There’s a darkness in him, a wound he’s trying to hide. I can see it in the way his gaze wavers,, in the way his hands tremble ever so slightly as he reaches for me again.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. He climbs onto the bed, pinning me beneath him.
“I think I have some idea,” I reply with a smirk, running my hands down his chest. His muscles ripple under my touch.
He captures my lips in a kiss, his mouth claiming mine with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. His tongue tangles with mine, a battle for dominance that I’m more than happy to let him win—for now. I can feel his heartbeat pounding against my chest, strong and steady, a rhythm that calls to the monster inside me.
I’m careful not to let my fangs slip, not to let him see the truth of what I am. He thinks I’m just a call girl, a beautiful distraction. If he knew the truth, if he knew what I really wanted from him, he’d run. Or maybe he wouldn’t. There’s a part of me that wonders if Luther could handle it, if he could handle me.
His hands roam my body, exploring every curve, every dip and swell of my flesh. He’s rough but not careless, his touch igniting a fire in me that I’d almost forgotten I could feel. I’ve been alive for centuries, and yet this moment feels new, electric, alive.
Luther’s hands move lower, trailing over my curves until they reach the waistband of my lace pants. He pauses, his gaze meeting mine with a spark of hunger and anticipation.
“May I?” he asks, his voice rough and laced with desire.
“Be my guest,” I purr, lifting my hips slightly to help him along.
I let myself get lost in him, in the heat of his body, the strength of his hands, the intensity of his gaze. But even as I surrender to the pleasure, a part of me remains alert, cautious. I can sense his danger, his demons, and they call to mine. We’re two predators circling each other, testing boundaries, pushing limits.
He tears away my lace panties, his eyes raking over my bare body with an intensity that makes me feel both exposed and powerful. I’m used to being looked at, desired, but with Luther, it feels different. He’s not just looking at me; he’s devouring me with his gaze, consuming me whole.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His hands slide up my thighs, his touch sending shivers of anticipation through me.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I tease, running a finger along his jawline. His stubble is rough against my skin, a stark contrast to the softness of his lips as he kisses his way down my body.
As he worships me with his mouth and hands, I can’t help but wonder what it is about him that draws me in. Is it his danger, his darkness? Whatever it is, I can’t deny the pull he has on me.
But I know this can’t last. He’s human, fragile in ways he doesn’t even realize. And I… I’m a monster. A beautiful monster, perhaps, but a monster nonetheless. All I can give him is this moment, this night. And I intend to make it unforgettable.
For both of us.
His eyes meet mine, burning with intensity. “Did you bring it?” he asks.
A slow smile spreads across my lips. “Of course I did,” I reply, sitting up and slipping out from beneath him. My feet hit the plush carpet as I rise, walking toward the closet. I can feel his gaze on me, heavy and heated as I sway my hips just enough to tease him.
From the closet, I pull out my hoe bag, the one containing the violet wand and its accessories. His pupils widen as he takes in the sight, a predatory grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“You came prepared,” he murmurs, sitting back on his heels and beginning to undress. His movements are deliberate, controlled, as he sheds his shirt, revealing the taut, chiseled planes of his chest. My eyes follow the faint trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband.
“You told me to,” I reply, setting the toy’s case on the nightstand and opening it with a soft click. Inside, the violet wand rests alongside its attachments, each one gleaming with a promise of pleasure and pain. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”
He kicks off his pants, leaving him gloriously bare. My breath catches for a moment as I take him in. He’s all raw power and masculinity, every inch of him exuding dominance. But there’s something vulnerable about him too, something he tries to hide beneath his confident exterior.
He selects the wand and one of its electrodes, his fingers brushing over the glass. The faint hum of electricity fills the air as he switches it on, the soft purple light casting a seductive glow. “Are you ready for this?” he asks, turning to face me.
I don’t answer with words. Instead, I straddle his lap, the wand in his hand sparking faintly as it trails along my chest. My skin twitches beneath the touch, my breath hitching as the current dances over me.
“Odette,” he murmurs. “I want to see you fall apart for me.”
My body responds to his words before I can even process them, my pulse quickening, my skin heating under his gaze. It’s fake and I’m not really sure how it works since I’m dead, but I’m also alive. That’s a question for Tempest and well, I don’t feel like going to Hell to ask.
He flips me so I’m lying back against the bed, my arms stretched lazily over my head, but my nerves are anything but calm.
“You’ll have to work for it,” I tease, though my voice comes out breathy. His lips curve into a devilish grin.
“Oh, I intend to,” he replies, looming over me, his bare chest brushing against my skin as he brings the wand closer. I can hear the faint hum, see the tiny sparks dancing along the electrode.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his tone equal parts command and invitation. I nod, unable to form words.
The first touch is like a jolt of lightning, a crackle of energy that skates across my skin. It’s not pain, not entirely—it’s heat and sensation and the overwhelming awareness of his control. I gasp, my back arching instinctively and he chuckles, low and deep in his throat.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his free hand pressing lightly on my hip, holding me in place. “I’ve barely started.”
The wand traces a path down the curve of my neck, sparking little bursts of sensation that make me squirm beneath him. My fingers grip the sheets as the charge kisses my collarbone, then glides lower, over the swell of my breast. My skin feels alive, hyper-sensitive, every nerve ending attuned to his touch.
“Luther,” I breathe, his name falling from my lips like a prayer. He pauses, just for a moment, his gaze flicking to mine.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice husky. “Let go for me.”
The wand moves lower, tracing the lines of my body with maddening precision. Every spark, every jolt of electricity pulls me further under his spell. I’m trembling, my breaths shallow and uneven as he explores me, his hand steady and sure.
When he pauses again, it’s to press his lips to my ear. “Do you trust me?” he whispers, the wand resting against my thigh, its hum vibrating through my skin.
“Yes,” I manage. And I do—in this moment, I’d give him anything.
“Good,” he says, his lips brushing against my ear. “Because I’m going to ruin you.”
He presses the wand against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh and I cry out, my body jerking involuntarily. His hand tightens on my hip, grounding me as he makes a soothing sound, his lips curving into a smirk.
“Relax, Odette,” he says, his voice like molten velvet. “You’re mine tonight.”
I whimper as the wand glides over my pussy lips. “Fuck.”
“Not yet, Odette. Soon. I want to watch you come first.”
I nod repeatedly like a bobble head. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop myself. I want to obey. I want to give him what he wants.
He plays with me, letting the wand dance over my pussy until I’m on the edge, ready to jump into the abyss.
“Please,” I beg.
With no warning, the wand nestles between my lips, and the current hits my clit. I’m done. I jolt off the bed on a scream, my body spasming as pleasure rolls through me.
“That’s it, good girl. You’re gorgeous when you come.”
When I come down from my high, my pulse is racing and I feel like my body is soaked in sweat. But I know that’s not possible. While I do have a heartbeat and pulse, and if you wound me, I’d bleed momentarily, I don’t sweat.
Luther slides off the bed, turning the wand off and tucking it back in its case.
“Now I think I’d like dessert.”