" Mr. Blauth, you handled the recurring theft case at the port very well. Congratulations."
My boss seemed genuinely proud, but still hesitated to assign me to big cases. I suspected it wasn't just because of my young age—it was my physique. I had a feeling that man kept me in the investigation department because he was sexually interested in me, despite being married. I'm not saying this out of arrogance, but I'd had enough experience from the academy until now to know it wasn't unusual for someone to prey on my beauty in a predatory, sexual way. Almost supernatural. The way they looked at me was degrading.
My hair was so blonde it could easily be mistaken for silver under certain lights. My eyes were bright, pale green. I was short, no standout muscles, a curvy waist, and round hips, though my clothes usually hid all that. Still, being judged by my body bothered me. I'd trained hard, knew enough self-defense moves, and was the top marksman in my class.
"Thank you, sir," I said, trying not to sound discouraged. My boss only smiled and nodded toward the couch where the investigator named Eric Félix sat. The man was about 36, admirable, but everyone knew how difficult he was to work with. Usually, he solved his cases alone, rejecting help. That was rare here—most had partners.
"Nathan's excellent but needs experience." The boss turned to Eric. I noticed his black hair, stubble, and dark blue eyes. His body looked strong and athletic. Despite my envy of his build, I stayed composed. He was tall with a stern face, furrowing his brow at me.
"Sir?" I asked, confused by the praise being passed to someone who had never spoken to me. I'd been watching Félix since I arrived—his courage, sharpness, intelligence, the way he masterfully cracked cases—everyone admired him.
Our institution was called Guardians of Justice. The team consisted of experienced investigators and inspectors working together to keep order in London. We handled cases the police couldn't, so all major crimes and murders were investigated by us with police support. Getting into this place was a huge milestone for my career—I wasn't about to waste it. I stood firm before Félix, with the proper posture, seriousness, and commitment.
"Oh yes, Nathan, you'll be working with Eric on the opium case spreading rapidly through London's outskirts. We want to find who's responsible. It's your first big case. You'll assist Eric in pushing the investigation forward." The man looked pleased to pair us up. Everyone knew they were close friends. "You have potential, and I know working with Félix will bring it out."
"Tsk..." The disgruntled sound from the investigator confirmed the last thing he wanted was a partner. But this was my chance—I wouldn't let his bad mood stop me.
"It'll be an honor working alongside you, Mr. Félix." I reached out my hand, but the investigator stood, stared at me for a moment with a scowl, then left without even touching it. That was offensive—but I was too excited to care about the obvious disdain. My heart felt like it would leap. A real investigation, and to work with someone prestigious? What more could I ask for?
"Think you can handle this stubborn one?" My boss chuckled.
"Absolutely, sir. Thank you." I followed Eric. Honestly, I suspected why he didn't want to touch me. Desire—he said my body fascinated even those uninterested in men. It was too dangerous to touch. That was uncomfortable. Those who tasted my venom craved more and more, doubting my true nature. Those words were engraved in my mind and soul.
Even during training at the academy, when physical contact was unavoidable, my classmates made inappropriate advances and even harassed me. But I never gave in—it was shameful to surrender to those ruled by base desires.
"Blauth, are you listening?!" Félix spoke as we walked toward the carriage, impatient to see me lost in thought. He didn't look directly at me, probably because deep down he knew that looking at me might lead him to sin.
"Sorry, sir." I said as I climbed into the carriage, sitting beside him but far enough to avoid unnecessary contact.
"Don't zone out, Blauth. And don't call me sir—just Félix or my first name. I hate too much formality." Eric was blunt and impatient. "I'll explain the case."
"Thank you, Sen... I mean, Félix." It was hard not to be formal. I'd try to be neutral with this gruff investigator. I felt tested all the time and wanted to prove worthy of his presence, even while taking care not to expose myself.
"Opium. Our goal is to find out who's moving it from our port." He dropped papers on my lap without touching me. "We found some users in the gutters. They consume small amounts, and most don't know their supplier. This guy here..." Félix pointed to a photo of a fat old man. "Grey isn't a user, but he sells the drug in suburban brothels when he can. Witnesses place him there. He's the one we're capturing today to find out who's behind this mess."
"I thought the Opium War ended long ago. But apparently, they're exporting again while flooding London's streets." As far as I knew, it was illegal. The drug, normally medicinal, was being abused for other purposes. Letting it spread in poorer neighborhoods was reckless. The city was chaos—becoming Europe's greatest power, maybe the world's, but the workers' slums were a social scourge, likely Grey's target.
Félix wasn't scowling now, just serious—which made him somewhat charming. Maybe a smile would suit him better. I pushed those thoughts aside, focused on the documents, reading while the carriage rocked uncomfortably.
"It's like a web leading us to the man shipping it overseas. Félix, do we have info on any irregular cargo?" I asked, paying close attention to the papers. I didn't even notice the carriage stop until Félix opened the door.
"Yes. Tomorrow night, an unknown shipment is scheduled to leave. We'll be there. My contact at the port is aware—at least I hope so." Félix dismissed the coachman, and we walked alone down a poorly lit street. Our steps echoed on the wet, filthy pavement. It was colder than usual. Some homeless men stared at us, others stepped aside to avoid trouble.
In front of a decrepit wooden door—ready to fall apart with a push—Félix knocked three times. The little door opened, and he whispered something to the man who answered. Inside, I realized it was a brothel. Women wore revealing dresses; most men were sailors. Some looked at us hostilely, but we ignored them and descended creaky stairs. They soon returned to their business, ignoring our presence.
Félix seemed strangely familiar with the place. He greeted the madam warmly—they clearly knew each other well. They exchanged words I couldn't hear. Approaching, I felt a hand grab my arm. An old, heavily drunk sailor had dared to touch me.
"Come on, sweetie, be my whore tonight." He spat the words. Weak minds couldn't control themselves—this place was dangerous for me. But I wasn't the helpless kid to be grabbed so easily. I twisted and freed my arm, making him fall. The thud drew attention, including Félix's. Some laughed at the drunken man; others refocused on their business.
"What are you doing?!" Félix wasn't pleased, signaling me to follow him through a hidden part of the establishment. Not my fault.
"He wanted to devour me. I just defended myself." It was simple, but I couldn't read Félix's look. Was it disgust or impatience? I knew one thing—he thought it was all my fault. My body was sinful, lustful; a simple touch drove men crazy. My lovely whore. Those whispered words from moments of pleasure echoed in my mind. No time to get distracted.
Finally, we reached a room where the man we sought was inside, thrusting into the woman he'd paid a few coins for his own amusement. The prostitute showed no disgust, only wishing for it to end so she could move to the next client.
"You're under arrest, Grey." Eric stepped forward, but the man panicked upon seeing us, grabbed the girl's arm, spun her toward us, holding a knife he pulled from under the sheets to her throat. She trembled, eyes begging for help.
"Let her go, you bastard." Eric's face reddened with anger.
"With pleasure." Grey shoved her toward Félix, who caught her. Taking advantage of the moment, Grey jumped through the window. Eric didn't hesitate and chased after our only suspect.
During my time training, I studied every alley and knew he could only run one way. So after tossing my coat onto the girl, I ran toward the front door. The alleys were filthy, my boots splashing in the filth. At the street's entrance, I faced Grey, surprised he'd beaten me there. He tried to stab me but only managed a clean cut on my arm. I grabbed his wrist and, using momentum, forced him to fall. I pinned his arms behind his back and cuffed him. My lack of strength or height was a disadvantage, so I learned to use the enemy's body against him, especially when he was bigger.
"How did you—" Félix looked incredulous, crouching and grabbing the man's hair, then glanced at my arm and touched the cut.
"It's nothing," I said indifferently. But when he touched me, a shiver ran through me. Surprised, I pulled away quickly, my flushed face betraying me. But I wasn't getting away easily. Félix was stronger and held me tight, knowing the touch of my skin would mark him forever.
"Let's go." Félix stood the man up. Minutes later, we had backup. Police were strategically positioned. Grey was arrested. The interrogation would be tomorrow.
On our way back, Félix gripped my uninjured wrist firmly and led me to the infirmary. I didn't understand the gesture. Despite its roughness, it seemed caring. Had he finally given in to inevitable desire? Maybe. I followed without protest—I was injured and didn't want an infection from an unknown blade.
"Take off your shirt, Blauth. This could worsen, though it's not deep." His authoritative voice made me unbutton my blood-stained white shirt slowly. His gaze was like a lion's, ready to pounce. It excited me despite myself. It'd been a long time since I let anyone touch me—the last time was years ago with a man. There was something about Félix that made me want to surrender completely, no regrets.
"You didn't have to do this. You could've treated it at home and—" He cut me off by pulling my arm, making me wince.
"Shut up! You need stitches." His tone chilled me. I hated needles but wouldn't show cowardice before my superior. The cold needle entering my skin made me bite my lip unconsciously. My heart pounded with nervousness. Needles weren't my favorite tool.
"Don't be scared. It's just a needle." His cocky, mocking tone annoyed me. I looked away.
"I don't like them." I admitted softly, indifferent to whether he laughed. But there was none. When I glanced back, he was serious and focused until the stitches were done, wrapping my arm.
"All done." His gaze lingered on my body like he was appraising every inch, as if desiring me. I leaned on the counter, still facing him, and smiled slyly. I'd learned to seduce. I let my hair fall lightly over my face and leaned forward, licking my lips slowly.
"Like what you see?" I sounded sultry. I didn't care. Félix was handsome, and if he'd fallen into my dangerous trap, why not enjoy it? He shifted his gaze to my face and brushed his finger over my lips. Yes, Eric was like all men caught in my web—even if now it was intentional.
"Don't talk nonsense." He turned, grabbed my shirt from the chair, threw it at me without care, and walked toward the door.
Now I was truly confused. I was exposed enough not to resist temptation. Fleshly desires were the weakest. Had I underestimated the investigator? My face flushed and my heart skipped a beat. That man had stirred my lust. I narrowed my eyes at the empty doorway. It was the first time I'd been rejected, and now I felt an urge to conquer him, to strip away his arrogant, repressed air.
"Eric Félix, you'll be mine." I whispered to myself, touching my lips where his fingers had dared to linger.
Off: Hi, everyone, how are you? I hope you enjoy my new story. If you can, please comment and vote. I'll be posting new chapters once a week, every Tuesday, until the story is finished.