The backroom of Ambrosia Night Club pulsed with muffled bass from the main floor, where bodies writhed in devotion to the music. Ravelynn leaned against the mirror-lined vanity, her long white hair tumbling over her bare shoulders like snow cascading down a marble statue. Her golden eyes shimmered under the neon glow, feline and amused as she adjusted the lace straps of her crimson costume.

She had just finished a dance set that left half the crowd drooling and the other half in shock. The scent of lust and sweat clung to the air like perfume—her perfume. She loved this place. No rules, no saints. Only sin. And tonight, she was the high priestess.

The door opened without warning.

“Could’ve knocked, you pervert,” Ravelynn drawled, not bothering to look.

Alric Belmont sauntered in, shirt unbuttoned, tattoos peeking through the folds like dark secrets. His short black hair was still damp, and his golden eyes gleamed with the kind of glow that meant he’d just been thoroughly satisfied. His melanin skin glistened under the vanity lights, and he carried himself like a king who’d just conquered another kingdom.

“I own this damn club, Rave. I knock for no one.”

She turned, arching a brow. “You reek of sex, Lust Boy.”

Alric grinned, slow and lethal. “Of course I do. Just finished wrecking my kitten’s insides. Had to make sure they didn’t forget who they belong to.”

Ravelynn cackled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Poor thing. You give them a chance to breathe between rounds, or are you still as selfish as ever?”

He leaned on the wall, licking his bottom lip. “They breathe just fine. They moan my name even better.”

“Disgusting,” she said, lighting a slim cigarette. “You used to be fun.”

Alric scoffed. “Please. You’re just bitter I stopped giving this,”—he gestured to his inked, glistening torso—“to every whining bitch that shook their ass at me.”

“I’m bitter you think anyone wants that diseased cock after it’s been domesticated,” Ravelynn shot back, exhaling a ribbon of smoke. “You’ve gone soft. Monogamous. Romantic. What’s next? Matching pajamas and cooking classes?”

He barked a laugh. “We already did the matching pajamas, actually. You should’ve seen them. Little silk ones with cat ears.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your neutered sex life?” She scoffed. “I’d rather fuck a cactus.”

Alric tilted his head, smirking. “You know what your problem is? You're still dancing like someone’s gonna save you.”

Ravelynn paused, golden eyes narrowing like slits. “And you’re still walking around like someone didn’t already collar your pretty little throat.”

They glared at each other for a beat, tension thick enough to snap.

Then they both burst out laughing.

“Gods, I missed you,” Alric said.

“You saw me last week.”

“I was busy.”

“Balls-deep, yeah, I heard.”

He stepped closer, taking the cigarette from her lips and inhaling. “Still smoke these nasty things, huh?”

“Still got your partner’s scent on you.”

“Good.”

She snatched the cigarette back.

A figure stepped into the room—new blood. Ravelynn’s gaze slid over, curious. Ah. The new intern.

Young. Inexperienced. Soft.

Her lips curved into something feral.

“Who let the baby lamb wander backstage?” she purred, slinking away from the vanity and circling. “What’s your name again? Not that I care. I’ll just call you ‘Intern’ until you grow some claws.”

The intern stood motionless. Ravelynn’s heels clicked as she walked around them, golden eyes tracing every inch. She leaned close, voice a purr laced with venom.

“You ever been to a real club before? Not one of those tame little bars where people pretend to be kinky but flinch at spit?”

She paused behind them, whispering near their ear.

“Let me guess. You were told to behave. Be good. Don’t stare at the dancers too long. Don’t talk to Ravelynn. Definitely don’t look at Ravelynn.”

Alric chuckled from the corner. “They were probably warned about you before they even signed the contract.”

“Smart,” she replied, stepping in front of the intern again, golden eyes glinting. “Because I am dangerous.”

She traced a finger along the intern’s collarbone, not touching, just hovering. Teasing.

“And curious,” she added, voice dripping like honey. “But don’t get excited. I don’t fuck interns. Unless they beg very nicely.”

“Ravelynn,” Alric warned, tone playful but edged.

She looked over her shoulder. “What? You can rub your partner raw and come in smelling like sex, but I can’t have a little fun?”

“You’re gonna scare them.”

“I want to scare them.”

Alric folded his arms. “Kitten would say you’re being a bully.”

“She’d be right.”

“She.”

Ravelynn froze. “Wait—what?”

Alric smirked like a man who had just tossed a grenade into a ballroom.

“Yeah. My partner. She.”

Ravelynn blinked. Then burst out laughing again, louder this time.

“Oh, you miserable little hypocrite. You used to swear you’d never settle. ‘No one’s worth giving up variety,’ wasn’t that your mantra? And now look at you—pussy-whipped and proud.”

Alric didn’t flinch. “She’s worth everything. Every drop of blood, every second of devotion, every orgasm I’ve got left in me.”

Ravelynn made a gagging sound. “Ugh. How did she survive that level of cringe? Did you whisper poetry into her ear after coming in her mouth?”

“Actually, yes.”

“You’re a war crime, Alric.”

He winked. “Yet here you are—still dancing under my roof.”

“Because the pay’s good and the liquor’s stronger than your jawline.”

“Untrue. My jawline is divine.”

“You’ve got the face of a cursed statue and the personality of a clogged toilet.”

“And you’ve got the mouth of a gutter demon and the ass of a goddess. That’s why you still sell out the floor.”

Ravelynn turned to the intern again, grinning. “You hearing this? This is what passes for workplace professionalism around here.”

“They’ll get used to it,” Alric muttered, moving toward the door. “I only dropped by to check on things. Got somewhere better to be.”

“Oh, running back to your little kitten? Gonna cuddle until your dicks touch?”

“Yes. Actually.”

“Fucking sickening.”

“You’re just lonely, Rave.”

She didn’t answer. Just gave him the finger.

He winked at her, then glanced at the intern before leaving. “Watch your back with her. And don’t let her feed you any drinks unless you want to wake up missing dignity.”

The door shut behind him.

Ravelynn sighed, walking back to the mirror. She wiped a smear of lipstick and looked at her own reflection for a beat too long.

Then she turned back toward the intern.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Fetch me a drink, will you? Top shelf. If I’m going to suffer through this night, I might as well be drunk.”

She paused, watching as they moved to obey, and a slow smirk curled across her lips.

“Oh,” she added, “and stay close. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to eat you alive.”