Chosen by the Living Reaper: But I Was the Succubus He Couldn't Resist

As a highborn succubus, I somehow managed to starve myself to death—thanks to my obsessive cleanliness and ridiculously picky appetite.

When I opened my eyes again, I had transmigrated into Vivian Hartwell—the long-lost "real" daughter with a tragically cursed fate.

I had barely been taken back into the Hartwell family before they forced me to attend a so-called "death matchmaking" event in Kingsford—on behalf of Natalie Hartwell, the fake heiress—to meet Damian Blackwood, the infamous "living reaper."

Rumor had it Damian was brutal and bloodthirsty—every woman who'd ever been involved with him either ended up dead or driven insane.

At the event, over a hundred socialites were trembling on their knees, silently praying they wouldn't be the one chosen.

Just as Damian let out a cold smirk and reached to pick his unlucky victim, I took a deep breath from the back of the crowd.

The scent emanating from him was a rare, potent masculine essence—something encountered perhaps once in ten millennia.

For a painfully picky succubus like me, this was nothing short of salvation.

I kicked aside the girl blocking my way, my eyes practically glowing as I threw both hands up. "Pick me! Hurry, pick me!"

......

The entire room fell into dead silence.

Over a hundred socialites scattered away from me like I was carrying the plague.

That left me standing alone under the spotlight—the only focal point in the entire room.

Damian's gaze darkened. The stick in his hand hovered midair as he stared at me like I was already dead.

He let out a cold scoff and casually tossed the stick aside.

"Her."

The moment he spoke, the entire hall filled with relieved breaths, like survivors escaping disaster.

In the corner, my parents, Richard and Margaret Hartwell, practically collapsed into their chairs, wiping cold sweat from their temples in sheer relief.

Meanwhile, I was so excited I nearly jumped on the spot.

God knew—Damian's rare, potent masculine essence was a gift from the heavens. My lifeline.

Two men in black stepped forward, grabbed me by both arms, and roughly shoved me into the backseat of a stretch Lincoln.

In the enclosed space, his overwhelming masculine essence wrapped tightly around me.

It had to be him.

After starving for what felt like centuries, I could finally feast.

A cold hand suddenly gripped my chin.

Damian leaned in, his striking face twisted with violence.

His gaze swept over my clearly too-small, worn-out dress, the disgust in his eyes completely unmasked.

"For money, you'd throw your life away?"

Whoever Damian chose would usually bring immense wealth and resources to their family.

That unspoken rule was the only reason elite families sent their daughters into this so-called death matchmaking.

I hissed from the pain, but instinct completely overrode it.

I stared at his lips, inches away, my throat tightening as the words slipped out without thinking.

"You smell amazing!"

The air froze.

Damian jerked his hand away like he'd been shocked.

The tips of his ears flushed red at