Victor VonHoff stood by the tall arched window of his bedchamber, clad only in sleek black silk drawers that hugged his lean, powerful frame. Moonlight washed over his pale skin, turning his silver hair to molten silver and making the jagged red scar on his cheek gleam like fresh paint.
His arms were folded across his chest, dark eyes locked on the distant, jagged mountains where the Imperial Military Academy waited like a patient predator. In seven days, he would depart this estate perhaps forever, or perhaps only until he returned as something far more than a duke's heir.
The room lay hushed except for the soft crackle of the fire. Victor's thoughts, however, stormed.
A week earlier he had been reviewing border reports when the headache struck sharp enough to drop him to his knees. When the pain cleared, an entire other life had been grafted onto his own. In that life he had been nobody special: just a man staring at glowing screens, reading serialized stories for distraction. One story in particular had consumed him for months. Shadows of Dominion. Every character, every war, every betrayal matched his reality perfectly. And in that novel, Victor VonHoff was the villain. Charming, cold, ruthless. A man who seduced nobles, broke heroes, and nearly claimed the throne before the chosen commoner, Aiden ended him in a final blaze of light magic.
Victor's lips curved. Not this time.
He already knew the academy's layout, the professors' weaknesses, the secret passages, the exact moment Aiden would arrive, the girls who would flock to the hero unless someone claimed them first. Most importantly, he knew his own power had been understated in the book. The VonHoff shadow lineage wasn't just tendrils and illusions. When his will meets someone weaker, someone whose mind lacked iron discipline, he could push. Not full mind control, not yet. But suggestion became craving. Doubt became obedience. Desire became desperation.
A gentle knock broke the silence.
"Enter," he said, not turning.
The door eased open. Lila entered carrying a silver tray: mulled wine, sliced fruit, a single black candle already burning. Twenty-one years old, her body curved generously in ways the strict maid uniform could barely restrain. Her full breasts pushed against the bodice; her wide hips swayed with each uncertain step. Tonight, her hands trembled so violently the glassware chimed softly.
She halted three paces behind him, gaze glued to the floor. "My lord… your evening wine."
Victor turned with deliberate slowness. Moonlight etched hard shadows across the planes of his chest and abdomen. The thin silk did nothing to hide the heavy, proud outline of his manhood, he had been lost in thoughts of future conquests.
Lila's eyes darted upward, then dropped again. Heat bloomed across her throat and cheeks.
"You're trembling tonight," he noted. His voice was quiet, almost kind. Lethal.
"I—I only wish to serve you well, my lord."
Victor crossed the distance in four measured strides. He stopped so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. He reached out, lifted the tray from her shaking fingers, and placed it aside without ever looking away.
Then he caught her chin between thumb and forefinger.
"Look at me."
Her lashes lifted. Pupils wide and dark. Breaths coming in shallow, rapid sips.
Victor allowed the lightest thread of his will to glide across her mind, like cool silk drawn slowly over fevered flesh. Not a command but Invitation. "You have always craved this. It is natural. It is right to yield."
Lila's lips parted on a tiny, helpless sound.
He stepped nearer until the rigid length of his desire pressed firmly against her soft belly through silk and wool. "You have watched me for years," he murmured. "From shadowed doorways. When I trained bare-chested in the courtyard. When I bathed. You slipped your fingers between your thighs afterward, didn't you? Pretending they were mine."
A fragile, broken whimper slipped from her.
"Answer me."
"…Yes, my lord."
Victor's smile was slow and dangerous. "Good girl."
He released her chin and let his fingers trail downward, flicking open buttons one by one. The bodice fell apart. No undergarment beneath; her lush breasts tumbled free, tips already peaked and dark. He cupped one roughly, thumb brushing the sensitive bud until she gasped.
"On your knees."
Lila dropped at once, skirts pooling around her like spilled ink. Her hands hesitated until he guided her wrists to the waist of his drawers.
"Remove them. With your mouth."
Her lips quivered as she leaned in. Teeth caught the black silk. She drew the fabric downward inch by careful inch. His manhood sprang free, long, thick, already glistening at the crown. Lila froze, warm breath washing over him.
Victor slid fingers into her hair not tugging, not yet. "Taste me."
She obeyed. Tongue darted out, hesitant, then bolder as the first salty pearl met her lips. She swirled around the sensitive head, then took him deeper, cheeks hollowing sweetly. Victor groaned low. He sent another soft wave of dominance into her thoughts: "You adore this. Pleasing me sets you alight. The deeper you welcome me, the sweeter the fire."
Lila moaned around his length. Hands braced on his thighs, she worked him eagerly messy, devoted, saliva gleaming on her chin. Victor rocked gently, letting her find her rhythm, then pressed deeper until she choked softly. Tears shimmered. She never retreated.
He withdrew with a slick sound, glistening strands connecting her lips to his tip.
"Stand and Undress."
Lila rose on unsteady legs. The rest of her clothing fell away in moments skirt, stockings, garters. Bare, she glowed from chest to thighs, peaks aching, the soft curls at the apex of her legs already darkened with arousal.
Victor guided her backward until her calves met the edge of the four-poster bed. A gentle push; she tumbled onto silk sheets. He followed, bracing arms on either side of her head, caging her.
"Open for me."
She complied instantly, thighs parting wide. Her intimate folds were swollen, slick, the sensitive pearl peeking from its protective hood. Victor settled between her legs, his rigid length brushing along her petals teasing, never quite entering.
He leaned close, lips grazing her ear. "Beg me to claim you completely."
Lila's voice broke. "Please, my lord… please take me. Claim me. Make me yours."
Victor slid inside her in one slow, inexorable glide.
She arched with a keening cry. Tight heat enveloped him, soaking warmth. Her inner walls fluttered wildly. He gave her no pause, drew back and drove deep again, establishing a fierce, relentless rhythm. The great bed groaned beneath them. Her breasts bounced with every powerful thrust. He caught one dark peak between his teeth, biting just enough to draw a sob of pleasure.
His mind brushed hers once more, deeper now. Feel it all. Every inch of me inside you. Every stroke. Let the pleasure devour you.
Lila's nails scored his back. Legs wrapped his waist, heels digging into his backside, silently demanding more, harder, faster. The room filled with wet, intimate sounds skin meeting skin, her arousal coating him, dripping onto the sheets.
Victor shifted his angle, grinding against her sensitive pearl with each deep plunge. She shattered almost at once crying his name, inner walls clamping down like velvet steel. He drove through her climax, merciless, stretching the waves of ecstasy until tears tracked down her cheeks.
Only when she lay limp and quivering did he permit himself release. He buried himself to the hilt, hips circling, and spilled inside her with a low, guttural sound—thick, hot surges that filled her completely. Her body milked him greedily, drawing out every pulse.
He remained joined with her a long moment, savouring the fluttering aftershocks that rippled through them both.
Then he withdrew slowly. A warm trickle followed, pooling beneath her on the silk.
Victor rolled to his back beside her, breathing even while hers came in shattered gasps.
After several heartbeats he spoke, tone once again cool and composed.
"Wash yourself in the bathing chamber. Dress and leave by the servants' passage. Speak of this to no one."
Lila nodded faintly. She slid from the bed on trembling limbs, gathered her scattered clothing, and slipped through the side door.
Victor remained on the rumpled sheets, staring up at the canopy. His manhood lay half-roused still, glistening with their mingled essence. Beneath his skin the shadows stirred lazily content for the moment, but far from satisfied.
Seven days.
In seven days, he would stride through the academy's iron gates, armed with knowledge no one else possessed and a gift that could bend weaker minds like reeds before a storm.
Aiden would arrive believing himself the destined saviour.
The women meant to become his lovers would discover their thoughts drifting elsewhere—toward a silver-haired shadow instead.
And Victor VonHoff, villain of one tale, soon master of this one would begin reshaping destiny one surrendered will, one claimed body at a time.
He closed his eyes, already picturing the first night in the dormitories.
Moonlight continued to pour through the window.
The clock continued its patient count.
One week.
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