I'm a Regulator-a law-enforcement agent who monitors the creatures of the Netherworld to keep them from wreaking havoc in the mortal world. When a dark-arts warlock is murdered and I was the last person to see him alive, I've got two choices. Either figure out whodunnit before I'm deported back to the Netherworld, or before I become the next victim. So, yeah, it's really more like I've got one choice. Enter Knight Vander, a cocky investigator sent from the Netherworld to work the case with me. Knight is what's called a Loki and he's the first of his kind I've ever come across. He was created by Hades, in Hades' own image and can I just say that Hades must have been pretty hot... Yeah, Knight is the sexiest guy I've ever seen but he's also bossy, demanding, and way too convinced of his own self-importance. As the body count increases, I find myself having to keep a sadistic demon in check all the while fending off the advances of a super powerful vampire, Bram. And dealing with Knight isn't exactly a walk in the park. Sometimes working law enforcement for the Netherworld is a real...

[There is spelling errors and it's confusing sometimes but I'll try my best to look for them before publishing a chapter] shes the perfect dom for me.

❗️CONTENT WARNING / AUTHOR'S NOTE This story contains psychologically intense themes and graphic descriptions that may be disturbing. Intended for mature readers.❗️ He watched as her breath fractured, as her fingers carved into the leather, as sweat coursed in rivulets down her temples. And he continued. Slowly, methodically, distending each wave of all-consuming rapture into an eternity. He brought her to the precipice, granted her a fleeting second to feel the vertiginous vacuum of the drop, only to draw her back into the vortex, deeper and more consuming than the last. A convulsion seized her trembling form, a single spasm where the surrender of will and the birth of absolute pleasure became indivisible. She lay submerged in a sticky, sweat-slicked, suffocating delirium - a state her body had now been conditioned to accept as its sole, inescapable reality. Her struggle had ended not because he had shattered her defiance, but because he had convinced her that defiance itself was a mirage, and that the only truth lay in the sweet, totalising act of dissolution into him. Her entire being, every constituent particle, was dissolving in this crucible of sensation. She was not merely relaxed - she had been dismantled to her very atoms and reconstructed upon a new chassis of his design. ✦✦✦ This is a story about the price of obsession, the illusion of control, and the devastating power of a woman who learns that true freedom is not in avoiding the abyss, but in choosing how to fly into it.