Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 1048

Chapter 1048: Attention Seeker?

Eros rode Nyxire into the city, and the city—God bless its overpriced cocktails and inflated egos—had absolutely no clue what the hell to do with him.

At first, he played nice. Kept to the side streets like some polite mythological inconvenience, letting Nyxire ease into her stride, letting the rhythm settle—hoof, asphalt, hoof, asphalt—like a heartbeat the city had forgotten it still had.

There was something almost therapeutic about it, honestly.

The weight of him, the sheer presence of a six-foot-something demigod draped over a creature that looked like it had stepped out of a Renaissance painting and decided modern civilization wasn’t shit... yeah, it synced.

It clicked.

Man and monster, or whatever the hell Nyxire counted as, moving like they owned the concept of motion itself.

But side streets are for people who want to be ignored.

Eros had never had that problem. And downtown? Downtown demanded witnesses.

So he went.

And oh, the eyes.

The first one hit like a cheap jump scare—some woman stepping out of a wine bar, already halfway into her phone like it owed her money. Then the sound reached her. That sharp, metallic rhythm—iron on asphalt, wrong in a way that punched through the noise of engines and conversations and late-night bullshit.

She looked up.

And froze.

Her mouth dropped open like her brain had just blue-screened. Phone slipped straight out of her hand, bounced once, twice, screen probably dead as hell. She didn’t even blink.

Just stood there, staring like she’d accidentally subscribed to a reality she hadn’t paid for.

Eros didn’t slow and Nyxire didn’t care.

Second set—young couple, mid-walk, mid-conversation, probably arguing about something stupid like texts or exes or whatever relationship drama people recycled these days.

The girl grabbed her boyfriend’s arm hard enough to snap him out of whatever he was saying, and then they both looked.

And yeah... that was it.

Conversation dead. Movement canceled and their braincells reassigned.

The guy would absolutely tell this story later. Swear up and down he saw God—or some Netflix adaptation of Him—riding a white horse down Wilshire at night. Nobody would believe him.

Honestly, Eros almost felt bad for the dude.

Almost.

Then came the third.

An entire patio. Late-night bistro energy—dim lights, overpriced wine, people pretending their lives made sense.

Conversations flowing, glasses halfway raised, that soft, curated hum of normalcy.

And then—

Silence.

Not gradual neither confused. Just... cut.

Like someone had muted the world.

Heads turned in unison. Glasses hovered mid-air. Candle flames flickered like even they were trying to figure out if this was real or some collective hallucination. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Because what walked past them wasn’t supposed to exist.

Nyxire moved like something ancient pretending to be modern. Massive, white, unreal—her coat catching the streetlights like polished marble, her mane flowing with a kind of lazy arrogance that said yes, you’re looking, and no, I don’t give a damn.

She didn’t flinch at horns. Didn’t react to the inevitable what the fuck is that from some guy whose worldview had just been politely shattered.

She just... walked.

Like cities were temporary. Like humans were background noise.

And on her back—

Eros.

Relaxed. Straight-backed. Effortless in a way that couldn’t be faked if you tried for a hundred lifetimes.

The coat ARIA picked out moved like it had its own agenda, catching wind, shifting just enough to look cinematic without trying too hard. The linen shirt—yeah, that soft, expensive kind that screamed I didn’t check the price tag and neither should you—glowed under streetlights.

The kind of expression that said I belong to myself, and the rest of y’all are optional.

Phones started coming out like a reflex. Of course they did. Humanity’s first instinct when faced with the divine or the insane was apparently record it for later.

Hooves struck faster. Harder. The rhythm sharpened, turned into something alive, something that echoed off buildings and slid under skin.

Whistles. Shouts. Someone screamed—half delight, half existential crisis. A voice cut through the noise: who is that— followed immediately by I don’t know but holy shit—

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify