House of Lust and Moonlight: A collection of filthy Desires

Chapter 1: The Contract

Rosalith~

The elevator rose too smoothly with no rattle, no lag, just a silent climb that made my stomach tighten. I stared at my reflection in the mirrored wall, dark curls tumbling over one shoulder, the silver-white section framing the other side of my face, the uneven patches of lighter skin across my cheeks and collarbone that no amount of concealer could fully hide.

My heterochromatic eyes stared back: one green, one blue. I looked like someone who had already lost everything and was about to sign away whatever was left.

I had worn the only decent dress I still owned. A black, simple, long sleeves that covered most of the marks Finn’s rejection had left on my pride, if not on my skin. The folder under my arm held medical records, blood work, and the desperate paperwork that proved I was clean, fertile, and most importantly— a virgin. The agency had already screened me. This meeting was the last gate to the approval.

The doors opened onto an expensive floor with dark wood, calm lighting, and a receptionist who did not smile. Not like I cared. She checked my name once, then led me down a hallway lined with closed doors. My heels echoed too loudly, every step reminded me of the number my father had written on a single sheet of paper and slid across the table three weeks ago.

Pay it back. All of it, or you are no longer my daughter in any way that matters.

Finn had taken the houses, the accounts, the land. I had signed because I trusted, and loved him. Because I thought mate bonds meant something. But he left with everything that belonged to my name, properties my father left in my care, trusting me safeguard. Since the day my father found out that I allowed a man who was just a fated mate to defraud me, my father’s voice still echoed in my head: Ignorance is not an excuse for stupidity.

And I carried the voice till this moment even as I followed the receptionist. The receptionist stopped at a set of double doors and knocked once. A baritone voice answered, ordering her to come in.

She pushed them open and stepped aside for me to walk in. I did, my gaze landing on Gunnar West who was sitting behind a wide desk. He didn’t bother to stand, or smile. He only looked at me like I was nothing but a contract he already knows he will approve.

Even while he was seated, I could tell that he was tall based on how broad his shoulders were. His dark hair combed back, light eyes giving nothing away. His suit was charcoal, shirt white, tie a deep navy that matched the severity of his expression. Truely, he was a man who made silence feel like a command.

“Miss Cosmo,” he said, his voice filled with authority. “Sit.”

I crossed the room and took the chair opposite him. The leather was warm against the backs of my thighs, but I kept my spine straight and my hands still on the folder.

He studied me. Not the way men usually looked at me, curiosity about my vitiligo, my mismatched eyes, and unusual hair. This was different. It was very assessing as if he were already calculating gestation timelines and genetic markers.

“You understand the nature of this arrangement,” he said, but I could tell it wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I responded.

“Say it,” he ordered.

I met his gaze. “You require an heir. I will carry the child. After birth, my legal and physical connection to the child ends. Payment is released in stages. The last sum is transferred upon delivery of a healthy infant.”

He played with his chin hair while watching me. “And the additional terms?”

I opened the folder and pulled out the contract I had already read three times. My voice stayed steady even though my heartbeat did not. “I will live in a residence of your choice for the duration of the pregnancy. All medical decisions related to the pregnancy are yours. No sexual contact with any other party. No alcohol, or travels without approval.” I took a deep breath before I finished, “...there will be weekly medical evaluations and immediate notification of any physical change.”

“And the virginity clause?” he asked.

Heat crawled up my neck, I forced myself not to look away. “Intact and documented.”

Something glinted in his eyes, it wasn’t warmth, or desire, but a proprietary interest. “I do not share what is mine, even temporarily,” he started. “The child will be conceived under my full supervision. You will not be required to perform any physical act beyond what is medically necessary for impregnation and monitoring. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

He leaned back slightly, the movement was minimal, yet it somehow made the desk between us feel smaller. “Why are you doing this, Miss Cosmo? The agency provided the financial summary. I understand your debt is significant, but many women carry debts. Only a few dared to sell their first pregnancy to a stranger.”

I could have given the official answer the agency coach had suggested. But I decided to tell the truth, because lying to a man like him felt pointless.

“My mate rejected me. I trusted him with documents I should never have signed. He took everything my father built and disappeared.” I adjusted on my seat, scratching the back of my neck. “My father has given me one path back into the family name. I either repay the full amount or I am cut off completely. This contract is the only way I can raise that sum in the time he has allowed.”

Gunnar watched me while I spoke with no pity in his eyes. “Your father sounds disciplined,” he said at last. “I respect that.” He reached for a black, expensive pen, and turned several pages of the contract toward me. “Read the highlighted sections again. Out loud.”

I did. My voice did not shake, though the words struck hard each time I read them; full surrender of parental rights, mandatory residency and complete medical authority. The clause that stated any emotional attachment I developed would be my burden alone and would not alter the terms. The last page required my signature acknowledging that the child would carry only his name and bloodline.

When I finished, there was long silence in the atmosphere.

“Any questions?” he asked.

“Only one.” I kept my hands steady on the desk so he would not see them tremble. “After the birth… will I be allowed to leave the same day, or is there a recovery period under your control?”

“Seventy-two hours of monitored recovery. Then you are free. The final payment will already be in your account. You will not see the child again, or contact my household. Those conditions are non-negotiable.”

I nodded once. “Understood.”

He slid the pen across the desk toward me. My fingers shook as I signed my full name on every marked line: Rosalith Cosmo. Each stroke felt like another door closing behind me.

When the last page was complete, he took the contract, stacked the pages neatly, and set them aside. Only then did he look at me again.

“You will report to the private medical suite on the forty-second floor tomorrow at nine. There will be a full examination, and baseline testing. If everything is in order, you will be moved close to my residence that same afternoon. Pack lightly. Anything you need will be provided.”

I stood, my legs feeling unsteady, but I kept my shoulders square. “Is that all?”

“For today.” He remained seated. “One more thing, Miss Cosmo. I do not offer comfort, or conversation beyond what is required. You are here for a purpose. Fulfill it, and you will leave wealthy. Fail to follow the terms, and the contract voids. Clear?”

“Clear.”

I turned and walked toward the door when his voice stopped me just before I reached it. “Rosalith.”

I looked back.

He was still watching me with that same unreadable expression. “The silver in your hair. Is it natural?”

The question was so unexpected that for a second I forgot how to answer. “Yes.”

He nodded, as if mentally storing the information, then returned his attention to the papers on his desk.

I left the office with the signed contract’s weight already consuming my bones. The elevator ride down felt forever more than the ride up, and my thoughts kept circling: I had just sold the first child my body would ever carry to a man who looked at me and saw only an heir.

But beneath my conflicted mind, fear and guilt, a small, unwanted part of me had noticed the exact shade of his eyes when he said my name.

The Alpha’s Private Surrogate

Rosalith~

I arrived at the private medical suite at 8:47 a.m. The floor was like a graveyard, more silent than the one above it, the air colder with white lighting.

A nurse in pale gray scrubs took my name without small talk and led me to a changing room. The gown they gave me was paper-thin and open at the back. I folded my clothes into a neat stack, tied the gown as tightly as it would go, and sat on the examination table with my bare feet hanging above the floor.

The doctor entered first, he was a middle-aged man, face expressionless, and gloves already on. Gunnar West followed two steps behind him, wearing another dark suit, this one almost black, and he took a position near the wall with his arms loosely at his sides. He did not greet me as expected, he simply watched.

“Lie back,” the doctor said.

I did as I was told, the paper sheet under me rustling. The doctor’s