The Master Club's chandeliers burned lower that night, their gold light thick like honey. Elma adjusted her new black top, throat still raw from Nitron's punishment. Her body ached, but her smirk was razor-sharp again. She hated that she wanted him. She hated more that she wanted again.
Nitron's order echoed in her head as she stepped toward the curtained booth: "She is not like the others. Do not underestimate her."
She.
Elma pushed the curtain aside and froze for half a second.
The woman lounging there was pure poison in silk. Hair black as oil, eyes molten silver, lips curved in a smile that promised either ruin or worship. She wore crimson that clung like it had been painted on, every inch of her body an insult to restraint.
"Elma Nuiz," the woman purred. "Nitron's favorite toy."
Elma dropped onto the seat across from her, crossing her legs slow, deliberate. "Toy? Please. I'm the whole show."
The woman's smile widened. "I'm Lira. And I don't pay for shows. I make them."
Lira snapped her fingers, and the table filled with glasses — wine, champagne, dark liquids that shimmered like blood under moonlight. None of them had been poured by staff.
Elma raised a brow. "Neat trick. You conjure booze. Should I clap?"
Lira leaned forward, elbows on the table, her eyes glinting. "I conjure what I want. Right now, that's you."
Her voice was velvet and knives. It slid under Elma's skin in a way no man's ever had. For a flicker, her thighs clenched involuntarily.
She masked it with a smirk. "Careful. Nitron won't like you stealing his property."
"I don't steal," Lira whispered. "I collect."
She stood, smooth as water, and crossed the booth. Before Elma could blink, Lira was straddling her lap, lips inches from hers. The scent of smoke and roses pressed close.
Elma's breath caught despite herself. "You're bold."
"I'm inevitable."
Then Lira kissed her.
It wasn't human. Her lips burned cold, her tongue like lightning, and Elma gasped as her body reacted — heat flooding low in her belly, every nerve sparking alive.
[System Alert: Foreign Drain Detected.]
Effect: Energy siphon initiated.
Warning: Stamina decreasing.
Elma shoved back, but her hands landed on silk shoulders that felt stronger than stone. Her cocky laugh came out shaky. "Is this your game? Kiss me until I melt?"
Lira licked her lips, violet shimmer staining her mouth. "Melt, break, beg. All the same."
Elma gritted her teeth, forcing her body to stop trembling. "I don't beg."
She flipped them, slamming Lira onto the booth cushions, climbing on top. Her hips ground down hard, dominance reclaimed for a heartbeat. "I make others beg."
Lira moaned, low and rich, but her smile never broke. Her nails dragged across Elma's back, sharp enough to draw blood. "Then prove it."
Elma leaned down, lips grazing Lira's throat, her body betraying her again with another hungry pulse. She hated it. She needed it. She bit down, tasting blood, claiming something that didn't want to be claimed.
The system flared:
[Soul Drain Successful: +7% energy restored.]
[Trait Gained: Kiss of Defiance — You siphon 5% energy when resisting drain attempts.]
Elma rose, mouth red, eyes blazing. "You wanted a toy? You got a wolf."
Lira's laughter filled the booth, silk and steel. "Good. I like my wolves rabid."
When Elma left Booth Twelve, her legs shook, her lips swollen, and her body still aching with stolen heat. She'd won — barely.
But the system whispered as she walked:
[Warning: Rival Client Lira marked you.]
[Effect: Trace connection established.]
And in the dark corner of the hall, Nitron watched her with that same calm storm in his eyes.
"You're playing with fire," he murmured. "And I'll enjoy watching you burn."