**"Chains of Domination"**

**"Chains of Domination"**

**Chapter 8**

The F Tower rose into the night like a sentinel forgotten by time. A light mist coiled around the ancient stones, enhancing the atmosphere of mystery and secrecy that reigned in this place. Carl Storm pushed open the massive wooden door and stepped into the dark room where Selene Moonveil awaited him.

Seated in a plush purple velvet armchair, she observed him with calculated coldness. Her gaze was piercing, analyzing every detail of his posture, every movement of his body. Her imposing aura betrayed a woman accustomed to dominating others, to pulling the invisible strings of power.

— "You are punctual, Lord Storm," she murmured, crossing her legs, her tone as velvety as the darkness surrounding them.

Carl smirked, advancing slowly toward her. He did not reply immediately, letting the silence stretch, creating a tension both subtle and palpable. He enjoyed this kind of game.

— "I have learned that good opportunities do not tolerate waiting," he finally responded, his deep voice resonating in the room.

Selene tilted her head slightly, amused by his answer. With a delicate gesture, she pointed to the chair across from her.

— "Sit. We have things to discuss."

Carl complied, his gaze locked onto hers, a predatory intensity emanating from him. He knew she was trying to gauge him, to understand the extent of his powers, and most importantly, to discover how she could exploit them.

— "Your psychic abilities intrigue me, Lord Storm," she stated in a measured tone. "Few beings can manipulate the mind as you seem capable of. A cooperation between us could be... profitable."

She placed a crystal goblet before him, filled with an amber liquid whose intoxicating aroma wafted through the air. Carl observed the drink, then looked up at her, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

— "A cooperation? You mean you want to study me like a test subject?"

Selene did not flinch.

— "Let's say I want to understand what you truly are. You are unique, and in this world, uniqueness is either a weapon or a weakness. It all depends on who wields it."

Carl leaned slightly forward, bringing his face closer to hers.

— "A weapon… or a pleasure," he murmured, letting his words brush the air between them like an invisible caress.

Selene raised an eyebrow, her body reacting despite herself to Carl's magnetic aura. She was no fool—she knew he was playing with her. But what unsettled her was how much she enjoyed the game.

— "You are bold, Lord Storm."

— "I am simply realistic. Some alliances are not forged only in the marble of agreements... but also in the warmth of sheets."

She gave a small smile, one meant to be mocking, but betraying a glimmer of interest.

— "And you think I would be swayed by such arguments?"

Carl slowly stood up, approached her, reducing the distance between them until the air grew heavy with electricity. He brushed her wrist with his fingertips, the touch so light it became frustrating.

— "I think you like being in control, but the idea of surrendering it attracts you just as much."

Selene's breath quickened, almost imperceptibly. Carl did not need to use his powers to seduce her—he knew how to wield words, how to let tension build slowly until it became unbearable.

— "I could be a danger to you, Lord Storm," she whispered, as if in a final attempt at resistance.

Carl leaned in to her ear, his voice a burning whisper against her skin.

— "Perhaps… But danger has never been so tempting, has it?"

She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second before reopening them, a new glint in her gaze. She had just realized that, despite her experience, despite her absolute control over others, tonight, she was the one caught in the trap.

And she had no desire to escape.

— "Do you feel that?" he murmured against her ear. "That's the effect of my power."

Selene took a deep breath, fighting against a sudden surge of warmth. Carl smiled inwardly. She was trapped, unable to retreat, fascinated and troubled by the aura he exuded.

— "I… didn't come here for this," she stammered.

— "And yet, you're not stopping me," he countered with a predatory smile.

With a steady hand, he grasped her waist and pulled her closer. Their bodies brushed, and he felt her breath quicken. Selene made a last attempt to assert control, but when Carl placed his lips on her neck, just beneath her ear, she closed her eyes and surrendered.

The rest of the night was marked by unexpected passion. Selene, usually the mistress of her emotions, lost herself under Carl's expert touch. He didn't just possess her—he devoured her slowly, letting her believe she still had power while shaping her to his will. She was both shaken and enthralled, unable to comprehend how she had ended up like this.

By morning, as Selene lay resting, exhausted and troubled, Carl sat up and observed his handiwork. A satisfied smile curled his lips. He had just planted a seed. Selene Moonveil was no longer just a potential enemy—she was now a piece on his chessboard.

Carl returned to the dormitory with a smirk. He got ready quickly before heading to his classes. But on the way, he felt a heavy gaze upon him.

*He's been following me for a while…* Carl thought, sensing the presence of Alastair Gritstone. He smiled inwardly. *He could be useful. He could be my first Devoted. With his connections within the institute, he could access any place without arousing suspicion.*

Carl immediately changed his plans and vanished, reappearing right in front of Alastair, who started in shock.

— "Sleep," Carl ordered in a soft voice.

Alastair instantly collapsed.

When he woke up, he was tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. The atmosphere was heavy, almost suffocating. Carl stood before him, calm, imposing.

— "Hello, Alastair Gritstone," he said in a detached tone.

Alastair tried to move, but his body refused to obey him.

— "Don't worry, you're just under hypnosis," Carl explained, leaning against the wall.

Alastair swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between fear and fascination.

— "Why did you kidnap me?" he stammered.

Carl smiled.

— "Why were you following me?"

A heavy silence fell. Alastair opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally admitted in a trembling voice:

— "I… don't know. I just felt the need to be close to you… to serve you."

Carl slowly approached, his presence dominating.

— "Then why resist?" he murmured.

Alastair found no answer. His eyes flickered, drawn into the hypnotic pull of Carl's aura.

— "Drink," Carl commanded, pressing a cup filled with his own blood to Alastair's lips.

The old man did not hesitate. He drank greedily, his gaze blazing with absolute devotion. When he lifted his head, his eyes shone with a new light—he was no longer just a man but a loyal hound, ready to obey his master without the slightest hesitation.

The painful process of transformation began.