Power.
Dominic Virelli didn't just taste it—he devoured it.
He stood at the top of Virelli Dominion Tower, one hand wrapped around a glass of fire-whiskey imported from the volcanic dwarves of the Ember Core, the other sliding into the silk waistband of his pants where a woman knelt behind his desk, sucking him like her life depended on it.
"Don't use your teeth," he said calmly, voice barely a murmur.
The woman whimpered, adjusting her mouth.
Dominic closed his eyes. He didn't know her name. He didn't need to. Just another intern looking to climb the golden ladder on her knees.
He was the billionaire who owned more than companies—he owned kingdoms. Realms. Dimensions. Humans, vampires, fae, warlocks—they all bowed to him in suits and contracts, because his lawyers were scarier than dragons and his money deeper than oceans.
He came with a low grunt, unbothered and unimpressed.
"Your five minutes are up," he said, zipping his pants.
The woman blinked, eyes watering. "That's it?"
"You were a palate cleanser. I've got warlocks to crush."
She left in silence, humiliated.
He lit a cigar and turned toward the window, his suit pristine, his mind calculating the next acquisition.
And then—
The temperature in the room dropped.
The lights flickered.
The glass trembled.
A figure materialized in the center of his office, stepping out of a swirling portal of violet mist and shadow.
He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Break into my office, and you better be a threat or a fuck. Which are you?"
She smiled.
Her hair was silver like moonlight. Skin golden, tattooed with glowing fae script. Combat boots, a torn cloak, and a dagger at her hip that whispered spells in forgotten tongues.
"I'm both."
She stepped forward.
"I'm here to collect on a blood-debt, Mr. Virelli. You killed my brother."
He barely blinked. "I've killed a lot of brothers."
"This one wrote poetry."
He froze.
Not out of guilt. He didn't feel guilt. But because that one he remembered.
"Calem. Fae diplomat. Signed a contract. Sold his soul."
"For bread crumbs," she spat. "You tricked him. Like you trick everyone."
"He signed. That's business."
She stopped right in front of him.
He looked down at her, lips curled.
"You came here for revenge?"
"Not exactly."
She reached up.
Before he could react, she pulled his head down—and kissed him.
Not gently. Not sweetly.
Her mouth was molten sugar and punishment.
He grunted, caught off guard. His body sparked. Magic thrummed through his veins. His knees weakened.
She pulled back, slow, seductive.
"Cursed," she whispered, eyes gleaming.
His vision blurred.
"What—what did you—"
"You'll crave me now. Every night. Every breath. You won't be able to fuck, eat, or sleep without thinking of me."
She patted his chest.
"Consider it… poetic justice."
And then she vanished, leaving only a lingering scent of wild roses and scorched silk.