The Drunken Moon was tucked away in a hidden, dead-end alley that looked like it hadn't seen street sweepers in a decade. The only indication that we were in the right place was a glowing neon sign depicting a full moon and a tilted bottle. A surprisingly long line of well-dressed people queued outside, waiting for their turn to enter, but Stella completely ignored them. She took my hand and pulled me straight to the front of the line, right up to the bouncers.
They were incredibly imposing. Dressed in sharp, dark suits and wearing sunglasses at night, both men possessed extremely muscular, hulking physiques and exuded a deeply menacing aura. The feral, predatory vibe they were projecting was all too familiar after my recent street brawl. I instantly guessed their identity: Werewolves.
Stella flashed them a subtle, practiced hand signal. The bouncers gave a curt nod and immediately unclipped the velvet rope, ushering us inside without a word.
From the quiet alleyway, no sound had escaped the building. But the absolute second we stepped through the heavy double doors, we were hit by a massive wall of pounding bass and deafening music. The lighting was minimal and incredibly moody, punctuated by occasional, rhythmic flashes of strobe lights from the elevated DJ booth. Looking down from the entrance platform, I could see a sprawling dance floor packed with people moving rhythmically to the heavy beat, giving the entire club a deeply sensual, intoxicating vibe.
We navigated down the stairs and pushed our way through the grinding crowd until we reached the massive, illuminated bar.
Behind the counter, effortlessly mixing drinks, was a strikingly beautiful male bartender with flowing blonde hair and distinctly elongated, pointed ears. He turned around after serving a group of patrons and his eyes lit up when he saw us.
"Good evening, Miss White. I trust you've been well?" he greeted with a warm, dazzling smile. "Is the boss here with you tonight?"
"Doing just fine, Eric. And no, it's just me," Stella responded, gesturing toward me. "I came here with a friend."
"Nice to meet you, I am Eric," he said, extending a polite hand.
"Nice to meet you too, I am Samsara," I replied, shaking it.
"What a peculiar name..." Eric noted, tilting his head slightly.
"I get that a lot," I said with a wry, practiced smile.
"Don't let the apron and the cocktail shaker fool you," Stella leaned in, looking teasingly at Eric. "He may be pouring drinks, but he's actually royalty. A prince of the Faerie Realm."
I blinked, genuinely puzzled. A literal fairy prince was serving as a bartender in Chloe's nightclub? My confusion must have been glaringly obvious, because Eric let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.
"What prince? I am just an exiled prince," Eric sighed, wiping down the counter with a rag. "If it were not for the Boss's good graces taking me in, I wouldn't even be able to feed myself in this mortal world."
Oh, I see. Why is it that every single supernatural being I meet these days is either an ancient monster, violently psychotic, or an exiled royal? I thought to myself, highly amused by the sheer statistical improbability of my social circle.
"Don't let his kind and gentlemanly facade fool you, either," Stella continued mischievously, thoroughly enjoying throwing him under the bus. "He is a massive player. His exile is entirely due to him sleeping with numerous taken women. The final straw? One of them was the fiancée of a Faerie King. Even though Eric's father is also a king, Eric is just the 23rd in the line of succession. Because the Fae are an immortal race, he has basically zero chance of ever ascending the throne. His father was weaker than the king he offended, so our poor Eric here could only be exiled to the mortal realms to avoid a war."
Eric rubbed the back of his neck, looking intensely embarrassed by his dark, scandalous history being casually broadcasted over the pounding club music.
"Anyway, what can I serve you? The usual?" Eric asked, desperately brushing the subject away with a gracious wave of his hand.
"Yes, thank you. And we will take one of the VIP rooms," Stella requested.
"Alright. I'll send a waitress your way as soon as your order is ready."
Stella took my hand once again and led me away from the noisy bar, directing me toward a discreet elevator tucked into the corner of the club. She hit a button, and we started to descend. I was starting to understand the sheer scale of Chloe's establishment—it seemed the vast majority of the club was actually built deep underground.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing a dark, quiet hallway lined with sleek LED strips. As we walked, I noticed numerous heavy doors with numbers glowing on them. We stopped in front of door number '5'. Stella pulled a sleek black keycard from her purse and swiped it. With a soft click, the door opened.
It was a luxurious, soundproofed private room. There was a plush salon area with comfy-looking leather sofas, a minibar, and a small fridge. But the very first thing that violently captured my attention was the massive, sprawling King-size bed occupying the back half of the room.
I stopped dead in my tracks, shooting Stella a highly questioning, bewildered look.
She followed my gaze to the bed and smiled calmly. "Different types of supernaturals come here to feed or find a partner for the night. Vampires, for example, need to drink blood, so they require a safe, entirely private space. You, better than anyone, should know the sheer potency of a vampire's bite. It's quite natural that they need a bed for the... activities that follow." She paused, her glowing purple eyes looking at me teasingly. "Werewolves also require these rooms. During each full moon, they enter a highly aggressive mating state. This is where they come to safely satisfy their urges."
Even with my newly acquired, thick immortal skin, I couldn't stop a fierce blush from creeping up my neck as she casually implied what had happened between Chloe and me on that bloody penthouse carpet.
"Cough, cough. Right. I see," I muttered, quickly looking away.
We sat down on the comfy sofas, the heavy soundproofing of the room reducing the club's pounding bass to a faint, rhythmic vibration. After about five minutes of light chit-chat, a soft knock echoed from the door.
I got up to open it. A stunningly beautiful woman dressed in a sleek black skirt and a crisp white shirt stepped inside. She had a flawlessly pale complexion and sharp, perfect facial features that immediately gave away her identity as a vampire.
She placed our drinks and an array of snacks on the glass table, executing a picture-perfect, professional bow. But as she moved, her glowing crimson eyes never once left my neck. She was staring at me with a barely contained, ravenous hunger.
When she finally left the room, the door clicking shut behind her, Stella burst into laughter.
"I completely understand what Chloe meant about your blood now," Stella giggled, taking a sip from her glass. "It seems every vampire in this building views you as the ultimate, Michelin-star delicacy."
"Great. That's exactly what I needed—to be a walking, immortal juice box," I grumbled bitterly, sitting back down.
"Don't worry, most vampires in this city will absolutely never lay a finger on you because of Chloe's mark. They wouldn't dare cross the Blood Dragon," she said, pointing directly at my neck.
I subconsciously reached up and brushed my fingers against my skin. There, resting perfectly over my carotid artery, was a dark, intricate tattoo. It depicted a blood-red oriental dragon biting its own tail, forming a perfect, continuous circle.
The tattoo had fully manifested a few days after the chaotic birthday party. I remember absolutely freaking out when I saw it in the mirror, entirely convinced that Atticus had managed to hit me with some kind of delayed magical curse. It was only when Chloe calmly explained that it was the physical manifestation of her vampiric claim—the permanent result of her biting me and leaving her magical signature in my bloodstream—that I finally calmed down.
"Is it because of this tattoo that you call her the Blood Dragon?" I asked, sipping my drink. It had a sweet, fruity taste that completely belied the heavy, burning concentration of alcohol hidden within it.
"It's her emblem, and her official title in the underworld," Stella explained, tracing the rim of her glass. "Some time ago, she took command of several punitive expeditions on behalf of her father to crush rebellious vampire factions. The sheer, unadulterated bloodbaths that resulted from those campaigns earned her the 'Blood' moniker. As for the 'Dragon'... that is due to her monstrous, terrifying growth rate. Like I told you before, she grows a hundred times faster than even a normal True Blood. Hence, she was crowned the 'Blood Dragon'."
"Wow. Badass," I murmured admiringly. No wonder nobody wants to mess with her.
"Yup, that's my sister," Stella said fondly, a nostalgic, warm look crossing her beautiful face.
An hour passed in comfortable conversation, and thanks to the deceptively strong drinks, we were both feeling pretty hammered. We could have sobered up instantly—my glitchy system metabolism or one of Stella's spells could have burned the alcohol away in seconds—but we deliberately chose not to.
"So," I finally asked, setting my empty glass down. "What was this massive request you needed to ask me?"
Stella paused. A highly uncharacteristic, delicate blush dusted her cheeks, but she met my gaze head-on.
"Can you be my partner?" she asked softly. "My... intimate partner."
Pshtttt!
I violently choked on the last drop of my drink, coughing and sputtering as the sheer shock of the request short-circuited my brain.
"Don't misunderstand!" Stella quickly clarified, waving her hands in a flustered panic. "As you know, I am a succubus. I need to feed on lust to survive. Before, just passively feeding on the ambient lust of other people during their passionate moments—like the couple at the party—was barely enough to sustain me. But as I've grown older, I can feel my succubus blood boiling. I hunger for the real thing. But because I grew up in the human world alongside Chloe, I possess the sensibilities of a human girl. I absolutely refuse to just randomly choose a stranger in a club to deal with my biological needs."
She took a deep breath, her glowing purple eyes locking onto mine with an intense, vulnerable sincerity.
"As I was struggling with this, I met you. I learned to know you, to understand you. I realized that if it was you... I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, I wanted it to be you. I talked about it extensively with Chloe, and she completely agreed with me."
"WAIT. Chloe agreed to this?!" I practically shouted, my jaw hitting the floor.
"Don't be so shocked," Stella said smoothly, regaining her confident smirk. "I know exactly what is happening between the two of you. She told me about it when we talked. I explicitly asked her if she minded sharing, and she said, 'How could I mind? I claimed him, he's mine. But you're my sister. Even if we're not blood-related, I don't mind him being yours, too.' Plus, you'll understand the longer you stay in our world, Samsara—most ancient supernaturals rarely adhere to strictly monogamous relationships."
These women are absolutely terrifying! my internal monologue screamed. They casually organized a supernatural timeshare on my body without my knowledge or consent!
But then, I looked at Stella. I looked at her flawless, stunning face, her incredible curves, and the genuine affection shining in her purple eyes.
Well... if I don't go to hell, who will?
"Well, if I must sacrifice my body for the greater good of your health, I suppose I have no choice," I answered with an exaggerated, entirely fake tone of profound righteousness.
Stella let out a full, ringing belly laugh, the tension instantly draining from her shoulders. She sighed in deep relief before looking at me with a sweet, piercing intensity.
"That's exactly why it could only be you," she murmured softly.
Hearing her say that made an unexpected, genuine warmth bloom in my chest.
Before I could reply, her eyes began to glow with a brilliant, hypnotic purple light. That familiar, ambiguous aura instantly flooded the soundproof room. I could feel my core temperature spiking, my blood running hot as she deliberately stoked the fires of my lust. She slowly stood up from her sofa and walked toward me, her hips swaying with the lethal, mesmerizing grace of a cheetah eyeing its prey.
As she stopped right in front of me, the intoxicating feeling intensified tenfold. She smoothly straddled my lap, her soft thighs bracketing my hips, making our chests press flush against one another. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight embrace. I could feel the intense heat radiating from her skin. She exhaled a hot breath against my ear, her exotic, floral fragrance scrambling my senses completely.
Unable to take the intense stimulation for another second, I grabbed the back of her head and captured her lips forcefully, sliding my tongue into her mouth.
As I gave her a deep, bruising kiss, she let out a soft, shuddering moan of pleasure, grinding her hips down against mine. In our current position, the friction was a lethal combination. My body had already reacted violently to her aura; I was painfully hard beneath my tailored clothes. My hands instinctively moved down, gripping the soft, generous curves of her backside. As I massaged her, I elicited a few more breathy moans. She licked the sensitive skin of my neck, sending electric shivers straight down my spine.
We messed around aggressively on the sofa for a few more minutes, leaving her flushed and panting heavily. Finally, I stood up, effortlessly carrying her by her thighs wrapped around my waist, and carried her over to the massive King-size bed.
I undressed her myself, discarding our clothes onto the floor. Soon, we were both completely naked, staring at each other in the dim, atmospheric light of the VIP room.
I finally had a completely unobstructed view of her. She was flawless. I couldn't stop myself; I leaned down, kissing my way down her neck to her breasts, tracing my tongue over her sensitive peaks. Her breathing grew rougher, more frantic as I massaged her. I continued to kiss my way lower, until I was positioned between her thighs. She instinctively tried to close her legs out of sudden shyness, but I gently held them open.
I proceeded to thoroughly, meticulously pleasure her. Her moans grew louder and higher-pitched in the soundproof room, until, with a massive, shuddering release, she completely fell apart.
She was still experiencing intense aftershocks when I shifted my position, gripping her hips, and slowly penetrated her.
"You can go faster," she gasped, her voice taking on a breathy, incredibly sexy, otherworldly resonance once she came down from her climax. "We succubi are entirely different from fragile humans. Don't restrain yourself, Samsara. Give it all to me."
"Alright," I answered simply, my vibrant eyes glowing in the dark.
Without further ado, I pushed completely inside her, eliciting a loud, beautiful cry from her lips.
The absolute second I did, her succubus blood violently awakened. Her flushed skin began to glow with a soft, ethereal purple sheen. Dozens of complex, demonic runic tattoos materialized across her flawless body, pulsing with ancient power. Her glowing purple pupils narrowed into sharp, predatory slits. Her cascading blonde hair rapidly shifted, growing longer and turning a brilliant, shimmering platinum.
Then, with a soft tearing sound, two massive, three-meter-long white, bat-like wings unfurled majestically from her back, and a sleek, similarly colored tail wrapped playfully around my leg.
She became entirely wild. With supernatural strength, she effortlessly flipped our positions, pushing me flat onto my back. She straddled me once more and started riding me with a violent, insatiable desperation. The ambient lust in the room became so thick it was physically overpowering. I could feel myself trembling as she accelerated the pace, her body moving in a frantic, perfect rhythm.
Soon enough, I found my release, but thanks to my glitchy, reality-breaking immortal stamina, my body didn't falter in the slightest. And she certainly didn't stop. Instead, she continued with renewed, terrifying vigor. With every passing hour, I could actually feel her magical signature growing denser, more potent, as she greedily devoured the immense, limitless energy I was providing.
Our lovemaking lasted through the entire night. It was only when the faint light of morning began to creep through the cracks of the club's underground vents that we finally finished our passionate, marathon affair.
I had honestly lost count of the number of times we had both climaxed. Stella finally collapsed against my chest, thoroughly exhausted but entirely satisfied, and quickly fell asleep. As she did, her demonic features receded, her wings and tail vanishing as she regained her normal, beautiful blonde appearance. She looked radiant, practically glowing with boundless health and demonic vitality.
As for me? I felt like my very soul had been aggressively vacuumed out through a straw.
Despite having the monstrously upgraded physiology of an immortal, my body was so profoundly exhausted I couldn't even lift a finger. My eyelids felt like they were made of lead.
Succubi are absolutely no joke, I thought weakly, entirely unable to take it anymore. I let my eyes fall shut and immediately drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep right there in the VIP room.
That was exactly how my first time with Stella ended.