The Heart System Chapter 528

A sigh escaped me, fully aware she always had some hidden twist. "Alright. I’m listening."

Carrie offered no reply. She motioned instead to the woman clad in black. "You handle it, Luna."

Luna glided silently in her chair, her motion smooth as silk. She locked her dark gaze on me, composure utterly unbroken. "I’d like to rent you for an hour, Evan."

The term lingered tensely amid the refined strains of the string quartet. I blinked hard, convinced my ears had tricked me. "Rent me? Sorry, am I some tuxedo now?"

"Yes," Luna stated, her tone deliberate and frosty.

"For... what exactly?"

"For a solid purpose," she answered, her eyes drifting lazily across my shoulders like she was eyeing fine artwork.

The "Villain" tag tingled at my neck. "Fine? Just no bizarre stuff, okay."

Luna cocked her head a fraction. "What counts as ’weird shit,’ exactly?"

"No strap-ons. No odd femdom stuff. I’ve got a rep to uphold, you know."

"Nothing of the sort," Luna promised, a faint smile flickering on her lips.

"Okay then." I shrugged and reclined. "If it leads me to Jack, count me in."

"Excellent." Luna rose suddenly, her ebony gown swirling at her ankles like spilled ink. "Come with me to the restroom."

"Hold on, now?" I glanced from her to the half-vacant dining area. "Not even the caviar yet."

"I’ll join too," Carrie announced, shoving her chair aside with a hungry spark in her gaze. She straightened her green gown, seeming more vibrant than in weeks. "This’ll be fascinating."

I got to my feet, sensing a snare ahead, yet with Jack Kuinn’s threat looming over the penthouse girls, options were slim. Trailing the pair to the restaurant’s rear, elite stares tracked our path.

Carrie never slowed near the back. She locked eyes with the owner—a granite-hewn figure of wealth—and raised one imperious finger.

"The ladies’ room," Carrie demanded, voice cutting like cut glass. "Clear it out. No entry for an hour. Clear, Marcus?"

The owner showed no shock at the demand. He bowed low, hands folded behind. "Your command, Ms. Beldenwary. I’ll guard it myself."

We entered, the thick soundproof door sealing with a click, silencing the quartet. Luxury defined the space: porcelain and gold everywhere. White Calacatta marble floored it flawlessly, scented with lavish lilies and a crisp ozone tang. Vanity mirrors lined one wall under gentle lighting that flattered like Hollywood. Spotless beyond surgery suites, vast as my first three flats together.

Luna acted fast. From her tiny black clutch came a premium phone, passed to Carrie. Wordlessly, she approached me, pivoted, silver tresses tumbling over her dark dress.

Carrie steadied the phone, lens trained on us, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Recording now. Ignore me."

"Now," Luna commanded, voice sinking to a steady, chilling monotone. "Choke me with your arm."

I froze a moment, jaw dropping as I eyed her turned head then Carrie’s grin. "Huh? Did I miss the script page? ’Strangle you’? What?"

"Chokehold me, Evan," she insisted, posture rigid, words casual like cafe chatter.

"This some wrestling ring? Not trying out for pro fights," I shot back, palms rising defensively.

Luna glanced back barely, serenity eerie. "Chokehold. Squeeze till I black out. Once I’m out..."

She nodded.

"I want you fucking me. Wake me to the mess."

A cold shiver hit me, unrelated to the chill. "Jesus Christ, Luna. Can’t we do normal? Some talk, rhythm maybe?"

She spun fully, hair whipping. Disappointment shadowed her dark stare, pity dull on my face. "Normal’s been tried. Moves nothing for me, Evan. Only these videos make me cum."

"What the hell are ’these kinds of videos,’ Luna?"

"I have my own collection... videos where I hang myself from my doorknob until the world goes black. I wake up and masturbate to the recording of my own struggle."

My mind shrieked in horror. Lunatic. Total psycho. What madness had I stumbled into? I glanced over at Carrie, peering through the phone screen, her thumb locked on the record button. Shock didn't touch her; captivation did.

"Strangle me," Luna breathed softly, invading my space until her chest nearly grazed mine.

"How about," I started, voice turning steel-hard as the "Villain" inside me shoved back at the craziness. "You test my way first? I've got a special... thing for folks like you, it turns out."

Luna breathed out a drawn-out, exhausted sigh, shoulders sagging in sheer tedium. "If we fuck right now, Evan, I’ll be dry as sand. I crave something beyond this world. I need to teeter right on the void's edge."

"Trust me," I urged, edging forward till the clove and rosewater scent wafted from her skin. My fingers brushed the chilled line of her jaw. "This hour's end will leave you mindless. No doorknob or choke needed for the void. I'll drag you there myself."

Luna locked eyes with me for a heavy moment, hunting for any falsehood. She finally nodded, slow and grudging. "Fine. Your way it is. But nothing felt means no deal. Get rough. No safeword. Back door's yours too. I’m clean."

I readied myself deep down. This was an elite masochist chasing death, but my own bag of tricks waited—including a "Hypnotize" skill burning to plumb the true depths of her twisted hole.

But... nah. No skill for this.

"Good," I growled low, hand slipping to clasp her neck's rear. "Carrie, keep filming. Trust me, you’ll want this on record."