Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 684

Chapter 684: Lila’s Hell Revealed

The descent from the third floor felt like slipping out of one world and into another—slow, disorienting, each step pulling me further from the quiet haze upstairs.

My shirt hung half-buttoned, skin still alive with Lila’s scent: jasmine laced with sweat, bourbon, and that indefinable warmth that was only hers. It lingered on me like a secret I wasn’t ready to wash away.

My lips were tender, swollen from hours of her mouth on mine. My fingers remembered the curve of her back, the way her nails had dug in when she came undone.

The afterglow wrapped around me, heavy and golden, even as the muffled thump of bass grew louder, closer, until it vibrated in my chest.

Lila had let me go with a slow, knowing smile—those ice-blue eyes flashing with mischief.

"Give me a little time, Eros," she’d whispered, tracing my jaw with one finger. "I have something for you."

I’d kissed her once more—deep, lingering, tasting the last trace of bourbon on her tongue—before forcing myself to leave her in the moonlit ruin of sheets and scattered clothes.

The moment I hit the main floor, the party slammed into me: heat, noise, bodies packed tight under strobing neon. Liquor glistened on marble like spilled jewels. The air was thick—weed, sweat, perfume, the metallic edge of too many people chasing the same high.

I moved through it all like a ghost, ignoring the hands that grabbed at me: glitter-dusted girls in barely-there dresses, guys shouting my name over the music, phone flashes popping like cheap fireworks.

Then I saw Ava.

She was magnificent in her collapse—sprawled in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by Amber and the rest of her golden entourage. Drunk beyond saving, and somehow more beautiful for it.

Her black lace bra had slipped, one strap dangling off her shoulder. Hair wild and damp, clinging to her neck in dark ropes. Eyes unfocused, lips parted, words tumbling out in a soft, sloppy cascade of languages.

"Mi rey... mon amour... vem aqui, por favor..."

She reached for me the second she sensed I was near, fingers grasping air until I pushed through the circle and caught her.

Aber laughed, giving Ava a playful shove into my arms. "She’s been calling for her Beach King all night."

The other girls pressed in—Melissa, Sina, the tiny brunette whose name still escaped me—hands sliding over my arms, voices low and teasing.

"Dance with us, Eros," Melissa murmured, lips brushing my ear. "Or we can skip the dancing. We’re very... accommodating."

I shook my head, gentle but final. "Another night, maybe."

Ava melted against me the instant I pulled her close, head dropping heavy onto my chest, arms winding around my waist like she’d never let go.

"Eros..." she breathed, the word slurred and warm against my skin. "Baile comigo..."

The track shifted—slow, liquid R&B sliding under the chaos—and we swayed. No real dancing, just a lazy, intimate rhythm, bodies pressed together like we were the only two people in the room.

She burrowed closer, cheek to my heartbeat, fingers drifting up to trace the faint red lines Lila had left across my shoulders.

"Você tá cheirando ela..." she mumbled, a drunken giggle rising. "Smell like... her perfume. My queen’s gonna be so jealous..."

I smiled into her hair, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You’re still my favorite storm, Ava."

She made a soft, contented sound and went liquid in my arms, hips moving slow against mine, trusting me to hold her up.

The pack hovered on the edges, pouting, trying to wedge themselves back in. I didn’t notice. Didn’t care. There was only Ava’s warmth, the familiar weight of her, the way she fit like she’d always belonged there.

Then the music cut out abruptly.

Silence rushed in, sharp and unnatural, broken only by scattered laughter and the clink of glasses.

The music didn’t fade—it died. Snuffed out mid-beat, as if someone had ripped the plug from the wall.

A collective inhale swept the room. Phones dipped. Bodies stilled. The air thickened, heavy with the sudden absence of sound and the prickling sense that something ugly was about to spill into the open.

My instincts flared, sharp and cold.

I looked up.

On the second-floor balcony that ringed the foyer, two figures stood beneath the blood-red wash of emergency LEDs.

"WHO THE FUCK GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE YOUR ROOM?"

"Oh my God... is he for real?"

"Who is that girl?"

"I think she lives here."

"Like... lives here lives here?"

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify