It had been a full week of strategic hoarding, calculated moves, and boss-level execution, and Amina was bored.
Not the kind of bored where one flips through fashion magazines and sighs. No, this was the kind of restlessness that crawled under your skin and begged for indulgence—fast, hot, reckless indulgence. She'd earned it. After all, she'd been a very busy, very efficient apocalypse prepper. Now, it was time for a little pleasure.
So, she called up one of her stylists—discreet, expensive, queer, and fabulous—and gave her one simple brief: "I want to look like danger wrapped in desire."
An hour later, she stepped out of her suite wearing a black leather micro-mini skirt that hugged her hips like a second skin, a deep-cut corset that lifted her breasts like ripe peaches waiting to be bitten into, and a cropped biker jacket slung over her shoulders. Her boots were knee-high, obsidian, and stiletto-heeled. Her eyes were lined with smoky black and shimmering gold, and her lips were blood-red temptation.
She didn't need a purse. Her credit was digital. Her power was palpable.
> "You're going out to hunt," B4 teased.
"I'm going out to feed," Amina corrected, sliding on a sleek pair of matte black shades. "Now hush. Mama's about to collect her first trophy."
---
The club was called Vanta, and it catered to the elite, the criminal, and the beautiful. Think exclusive memberships, soundproof VIP lounges, champagne waterfalls, and a DJ that spun mixes designed to make your soul twerk.
Amina didn't wait in line. She didn't flash ID. She walked past the bouncers like she owned the pavement, her heels tapping a sexy, lethal rhythm. Heads turned. Conversations paused. Someone spilled their drink.
She moved through the crowd like sin with a scent—amber, oud, and blood orange. Her aura was magnetic, and it pulled eyes, gasps, and silent fantasies in her wake.
And then, she felt it.
That strange pulse. That power. Primal. Male. Dangerous. Her gaze snapped toward the far end of the room.
There he was.
Tall. Shadowy. Lounging on a velvet couch in the VIP section, swirling dark liquor in a glass that didn't deserve to touch his lips. His hair was messy perfection, his jawline sharp enough to inspire sonnets, and his eyes—those damn obsidian eyes—locked onto hers with an intensity that should've been illegal.
They stared.
And stared.
And in that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist.
The music faded. The lights dimmed. The air thickened with lust.
Amina tilted her head, her lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. She sauntered through the crowd toward him, hips swaying like a metronome of sin. He didn't move. Didn't blink. But his drink stilled. His throat bobbed. He felt it too.
She reached him. Bent down. Whispered into his ear.
"Follow me."
And then she walked away.
He followed.
---
The women's bathroom was sleek, dimly lit, and empty thanks to the subtle bribe she'd passed to security.
The moment he stepped inside, she locked the door and pounced.
Mouths collided. Hands roamed. He tasted like fine bourbon and raw danger. She tasted like fire.
They didn't undress. They tore.
The corset came undone. Her boots never came off. His shirt was discarded carelessly, buttons popping like bullets. His belt hit the floor with a clink. She rode him against the marble counter, one hand in his hair, the other around his throat, commanding and glorious.
He came undone.
Twice.
And still begged for more.
Afterward, she cleaned her lipstick in the mirror, watching his reflection behind her. He was sitting against the wall, shirtless, dazed, sweaty, and utterly conquered.
She looked into her own eyes in the mirror and smiled.
Then a soft chime echoed in her mind.
> [System Notification: You have successfully bound Male Lead #1. Compatibility: 97%]
> [Partner Level: Ascendant]
> [Special Skill Unlocked: Synergistic Boost]
Her smirk deepened.
> "That explains the stamina."
She walked past him, leaned down, kissed his cheek, and whispered, "You'll find me again. When you're ready."
Then she disappeared into the night, boots clicking, heart racing, system purring.
The game had begun.