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!"

......

The entire room fell into dead silence.

Over a hundred socialites scattered away from me like I was carrying the plague.

That left me standing alone under the spotlight-the only focal point in the entire room.

Damian's gaze darkened. The stick in his hand hovered midair as he stared at me like I was already dead.

He let out a cold scoff and casually tossed the stick aside.

"Her."

The moment he spoke, the entire hall filled with relieved breaths, like survivors escaping disaster.

In the corner, my parents, Richard and Margaret Hartwell, practically collapsed into their chairs, wiping cold sweat from their temples in sheer relief.

Meanwhile, I was so excited I nearly jumped on the spot.

God knew-Damian's rare, potent masculine essence was a gift from the heavens. My lifeline.

Two men in black stepped forward, grabbed me by both arms, and roughly shoved me into the backseat of a stretch Lincoln.

In the enclosed space, his overwhelming masculine essence wrapped tightly around me.

It had to be him.

After starving for what felt like centuries, I could finally feast.

A cold hand suddenly gripped my chin.

Damian leaned in, his striking face twisted with violence.

His gaze swept over my clearly too-small, worn-out dress, the disgust in his eyes completely unmasked.

"For money, you'd throw your life away?"

Whoever Damian chose would usually bring immense wealth and resources to their family.

That unspoken rule was the only reason elite families sent their daughters into this so-called death matchmaking.

I hissed from the pain, but instinct completely overrode it.

I stared at his lips, inches away, my throat tightening as the words slipped out without thinking.

"You smell amazing!"

The air froze.

Damian jerked his hand away like he'd been shocked.

The tips of his ears flushed red at a visible speed, the color spreading down his neck.

He ground out the words through clenched teeth.

"You shameless lunatic!"

The force sent my head slamming against the window, leaving me dazed.

The car sped all the way before finally stopping in front of a grand estate.

The servants were already lined up, waiting.

They looked at me with a mix of pity and contempt, like I was something that would soon be used up and discarded.

Late at night, guided by a succubus's keen sense for scent, I quietly made my way to Damian's bedroom door.

It wasn't locked.

Holding my breath, I slipped inside like a cat.

Moonlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, outlining the sleeping man on the bed with sharp clarity.

In sleep, his violent aura had faded, leaving only that irresistible masculine essence that made my mouth water.

It smelled too good...

All I needed... just one kiss. Just a little energy to survive.

I leaned down, inching closer to his face.

Just as my lips were about to touch his, his eyes snapped open without warning.

He grabbed my throat and slammed me hard onto the bed.

In the darkness, his eyes burned with terrifying killing intent.

"Trying to die?"

I struggled with everything I had and sank my teeth straight into Damian's wrist.

Damian grunted in pain, his grip loosening instinctively.

I seized the chance, twisting free and rolling off him to the other side of the bed, clutching my throat as I coughed violently.

Damian's expression darkened instantly, his face turning stormy.

"In the middle of the night, you climb into my bed? Talk. What exactly are you trying to do?"

I coughed until tears blurred my vision, then decided to play dumb all the way. "I... I just wanted to give you a goodnight kiss!"

Damian stared at me for a few seconds, as if weighing whether I was lying.

In the end, he threw off the covers and got out of bed, his tall frame radiating pure pressure.

"Get back to your room."

I shrank back, scrambled off the bed, and bolted out of his room like I was escaping for my life.

The next morning, I was jolted awake by a series of urgent knocks.

A maid stood at the door, expressionless, holding out a set of clothes.

"Mr. Blackwood asked you to put this on."

It was a custom silk nightdress, smooth to the touch and obviously expensive.

After changing, I stepped out of the room barefoot.

Voices from the Hartwell family echoed from the hall downstairs.

I walked to the top of the stairs and looked down.

Natalie was clinging to Margaret's arm, a smug, almost gleeful look on her face.

Richard stood nearby, rubbing his hands together as he spoke to the butler with an ingratiating smile.

They were here to collect a corpse.

They must've assumed Damian had already killed me and came prepared to put on a show-cry, make a scene, and squeeze out a massive payout.

Margaret looked up-and froze when she saw me standing on the stairs.

Her expression locked in place, like she'd just seen a ghost.

"Vivian? How are you..."

Natalie froze too, her eyes glued to my expensive nightdress, jealousy practically blazing out of them.

Margaret recovered first, instantly switching to a doting mother act as she hurried toward the stairs, reaching for my hand.

"Vivian, thank God you're okay! I was so worried about you!"

As she spoke, she lowered her voice so only I could hear her.

"You're lucky you didn't die. Behave yourself, serve Mr. Blackwood properly, and bring more money back to the family."

I pulled away in disgust. Looking at her fake smile made my stomach churn.

At that moment, the study door opened, and Damian stepped out.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, radiating an untouchable, intimidating aura.

The moment Richard saw him, he rushed forward with a fawning smile.

"Mr. Blackwood, my daughter Vivian grew up in the countryside and lacks manners. If she offended you in any way, I hope you'll be forgiving."

I let out a cold laugh and slowly rolled up the sleeve of my silk nightdress in front of everyone.

My arm was covered in dense, crisscrossing scars.

Long whip marks, round cigarette burns, and scars from frostbite.

Every single one of them was thanks to the Hartwell family.

"This is what life looked like for your so-called 'ill-mannered' daughter in your family!"

The entire hall fell silent.

Damian's gaze locked onto my scars, the pressure around him dropping to something suffocating.

Natalie's face turned deathly ashen.

She quickly put on a pitiful expression, her eyes reddening as she tried to defend herself.

"Vivian, you can't lie and frame us just to get Mr. Blackwood's attention! You were clearly the one who-"

"Enough."

Damian cut her off coldly, ending her performance.

"Even the dogs in my family live better than she did."

He strode over and stopped beside me, his tall frame like a wall, shielding me completely.

Without sparing the Hartwells another glance, he gave a simple order to the butler.

"Throw them out."

The three of them were roughly seized by the guards and dragged toward the door.

As Natalie passed by me, her face twisted as she spat her curse.

"Mr. Blackwood's just never played with someone like you before. Once the novelty wears off, he'll torture you to death!"

The three members of the Hartwell family were dragged out of the Blackwood estate like garbage, Margaret's unwilling wails and curses echoing from outside the gate.

Right in front of me, Damian made another call.

"Cut off all cooperation with Hartwell Group. I want a report showing their cash flow collapse within thirty minutes."

I stood there, completely stunned.

The Hartwell Group might not compare to the Blackwoods, but in Kingsford, they were still a name that mattered.

And just like that, one call from Damian could destroy them?

Was he... doing this for me?

The moment that thought surfaced, my heart started pounding uncontrollably.

Almost without thinking, I reached out and grabbed the edge of his suit jacket.

He stopped mid-step, his body going stiff.

I tilted my head up, cautiously studying his profile. "Are you... doing this to stand up for me?"

Damian stiffly pulled his jacket free, turning his head away as he let out a cold snort.

"Don't flatter yourself. They just dirtied my carpet."

There he went again.

Saying the harshest things, yet doing the kindest ones.

How could someone be this awkward... and somehow this adorable?

An unfamiliar impulse surged through me.

Without thinking, I rushed forward and wrapped my arms tightly around him from behind.

"Damian, I really like you!"

I meant every word.

For a succubus who'd been starving for centuries, Damian was both a walking feast and the one who stood up for me.

How could I not like him?

I was practically obsessed.

The moment I hugged him, his entire body went rigid.

His hands froze at his sides, like he had no idea what to do with them.

It took him a full ten seconds before he seemed to regain control, grabbing the back of my collar and yanking me off him.

"You crazy woman! Touch me like that again and I'll throw you out to the dogs!"

He was practically shouting.

Dangling in his grip, my feet off the ground, I wasn't scared at all.

Through his slightly messy hair, I caught sight of his ears-flushed so red they looked like they might bleed.

He was embarrassed.

The so-called living reaper, feared for his brutality, was actually flustered by nothing more than a hug and a confession.

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

Damian's face darkened even further. He tossed me onto the sofa and stormed into the study, slamming the door behind him.

That night, even after eating my fill, I couldn't fall asleep no matter how much I tossed and turned.

All I could think about was the way his ears had turned red.

By midnight, that familiar hunger began creeping back in.

No matter how full I was, for a succubus, the only real sustenance was essence.

After hesitating again and again, I still couldn't resist slipping into Damian's bedroom once more.

This time, I didn't dare entertain any bold ideas.

I simply leaned closer to the bed, gazing at his sleeping face, then quickly pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his forehead-light as a butterfly's wing.

Just that tiny trace of essence was enough to carry me through the night.

In the darkness, I clearly saw his long lashes tremble-just once.

But he never opened his eyes... and he didn't push me away.