I called to the Night Flail and it was there, obsidian chains wrapping around my arm in a serpent's embrace. Its presence was a comfort as I prepared to face the unknown.
The front door came open easily enough. In fact, it didn't so much as squeak, as if it alone had been maintained over the years. I stepped into the house and was greeted with decades’ worth of dust. That instinct of danger grew ever more present, and it was joined by the feeling of being watched.
I slowly made my way through the entryway and into the main hall, letting the flail dangle slowly from its chain as I did. There wasn’t a sound but those made by my steps. The moonlight twisted every shadow into a potential threat, yet I felt oddly calm. This was where I was supposed to be, what I was supposed to be doing.
The sound of laughter echoed around me. It was a woman's laugh, throaty and sensual, and filled with promises for those who dared to seek out its source. The smell of perfume hit me next, strawberries and flowers that might as well have been held right under my nose. I prepared myself for the dizziness described by the book's author, but after I few moments I felt completely fine. Perhaps in his fear, the explorer had imagined it, or maybe I was somehow immune.
The laughter grew louder, and a cold sensation at the back of my neck alerted me that I was no longer alone in the room.
“What is it that you find so funny?” I asked without turning around.
There was a pause in the laughter, followed by silence. Finally, a sultry voice replied, “Maybe it is the way you are dressed. You're not from around here, are you? The men here have a sense of style. And they don't smell like you.”
“You want to talk about the way I smell?” I said with a chuckle. “There's such a thing as overdoing it with the perfume, you know.” I turned to face her, expecting a similar creature to the one that had assaulted me that first night.
The differences were subtle, but distinct.
She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Silky hair the color of flames draped over her shoulders and parted in front of her face to reveal soft brown eyes, full lips curved into an ever-so-slight pout, and fair skin with just a hint of color on her cheeks. Whereas my previous assailant wielded sexuality like a sledgehammer, everything attractive about this woman was in her understated rarity. Her clothing, fashionable and probably expensive, hugged her form just enough to reveal the sensuous curves of a perfectly molded body, enticing the eye to follow every line and every arch and the imagination to picture the wonders that lay underneath.
I thought I had prepared myself, but I found myself gawking at her stunning figure. “Who are you?” Not the most intelligent question I could have asked, but it got the ball rolling.
Those lips quirked up into a knowing smirk. “My name is Lyanne. But perhaps the question you meant to ask was, “What are you?” In which case I would answer—I'm a Succubus.”
As if buried memories had been unearthed by that word, my mind was suddenly flooded with knowledge on the Succubus. They were women, or they had been before they were cursed, and now lived to satiate their hunger by feeding on the life force of men. Without guidance they became wild, feral, like the one that attacked me that first night. With focus they could become more than just monsters, though they could use their powers to influence and corrupt, to infiltrate and destroy. They were the most dangerous.
And it was my purpose to stop them.
Lyanne watched me with interest, a hunter curious that its prey had walked right into its den. Her eyes occasionally drifted down to Night Flail, which was still dangling from my arm, but there was no fear there. “So now you know who I am. Don't you think it is rude not to introduce yourself?”
I filled my voice with as much bravado as I could muster. “My name's Kurt. I'm a hunter.” The term felt right to me.
She cocked her head, a cat-like gesture. “And you've come all this way just to hunt me? I suppose I should be honored. But that doesn't sound fun at all, for me or for you. I think I have a more . . . pleasant idea.”
“I’m listening. What do you propose?” The words came out on instinct, filled with a confidence I wasn’t entirely sure I had. Yet.
Lyanne's smile grew broader and she began to saunter toward me, stretching her legs in front of her in a way that caused her skirt to rise. She ran one hand up the length of her slender frame and reached the other to me.
The Night Flail lashed out. I didn't want to hurt her, so instead of striking her, I had the chain wrap around her outstretched arm. Her eyes widened in surprise, but not fear. If anything, she looked calmer than I felt right now.
We stood for a while in this awkward pose, the Night Flail linking us from our outstretched arms while we cautiously kept our bodies apart.
“If I had known this was what you were into, I would have suggested it myself,” she cooed. “Though I usually prefer to be the one doing the tying up. I’m a bit of a knot expert, you might say.”
I spoke with an anger I didn't actually feel. “You can cut the act. I know what you’re trying to do. You want to drain me—of life, energy, whatever it is you call it, and then leave me for dead, though I suspect I’d be in a kind of limbo that looks rather unpleasant from where I’m standing.”
Her responding smile was all innocence. “You make it sound so dirty when you put it like that, so cruel. But really it isn't so bad. Everyone has to die sometime. Most don't get to choose how, and many go quite painfully. In exchange for feeding us, our prey experience a lifetime of pleasure, all in a single night. They die free from pain, from worry, from fear; all they know at the end is ecstasy. It’s really a mercy, when you think about it that way.”
“I'm not really in the market for your brand of mercy,” I replied, though a twitch in my pants threatened to make me a liar.
She cocked her head and looked me right in the eyes. “Then what is it you want right now?” The chain pulled taught as Lyanne raised her hand. “Is it to punish me with your, ah—weapon?” Her brow lifted again, but there was an element of humor there as well, not just lethal sexuality.
Every instinct told me that was what I should have done. “No. No, I don't want that.”
Lyanne never took her eyes off mine. “Then what do you want, Kurt?”
“I want to save you.” It sounded stupid when I said it out loud, and yet it was the truth. “You’re cursed, right? Maybe I can find some way to lift it so you no longer have to do . . . no longer have to feed on men to survive.”
The surprise on Lyanne's face was not subtle. It took her a moment to regain her composure, and when she did, she laughed. “Oh, you're a chivalrous one, aren't you?”
I didn't appreciate being mocked when I just wanted to help. “Is it possible?”
Her expression turned thoughtful. “Perhaps. I've heard of such a thing being done, though I've never seen it myself.” She regarded the chain wrapped around her arm. “Your weapon is certainly unique. I've been attempting to use my power to free myself from it all this time and nothing has worked. In fact, the longer I've been bound, the more I've felt my power draining. If its power could be turned against the source of the curse, perhaps that would be enough to destroy it.”
It took effort to not let myself be blinded by hope. “And where is the source of the curse?”
She touched her free hand to her chest, to a spot right between her breasts. I recognized it as the place where I had instinctively struck the Succubus that attacked me in the alley. It had destroyed her.
“It's deep inside,” she said, her voice not betraying what she thought of the idea. “You would have to be very careful if you wanted to destroy it without killing me. Simply striking me won't do.”
I had to figure out a way. There was no way I could kill Lyanne, not now. I wanted her, I needed to save her. There had to be something in these new instincts of mine that would tell me what to do.
The answer turned out to be a more recent memory—the body that I had found the Night Flail on. It had been w
rapped around her chest, crisscrossed in a pattern that would have centered around the exact spot to which Lyanne was gesturing. I knew there was a significance in the pattern.
“I have an idea.” I gestured to the chain connecting us. “But I've never tried it before. It requires tying you up in a specific way. It would help if you stood still for it. If I mess up the pattern, I'm not sure what will happen.”
She smiled sweetly at me. “Are you sure you're not just trying to take advantage of me? Oh, very well. You interest me, hunter, so I suppose I'll go along with this for now.”
Carefully, I began to unwrap the chain from around her arm. “If you attack me, I’ll be forced to defend myself,” I warned.
Her smile said, Who? Me?
I took a deep breath, then began wrapping the Night Flail around her chest in a way that best reflected my memories of the moment I found it. The chain crossed over itself again and again at the spot between her breasts, melding together with a subtlety between engineering and magic.
The final wrap was finished, and the flail came to life, biting into her flesh, which began to ooze a dark, unknowable energy. Lyanne dropped to her knees and gritted her teeth. She was clearly trying not to scream, though the pain she was feeling must have been intense. Small groans and moans escaped her clenched teeth as the blackness continued to pour out of her in inky waves, sputtering to life and then dying, the black motes flaring for only a moment. At its peak, she collapsed and began to convulse on the floor, writhing and spitting and choking in a torrent of pain and hatred.
I rushed to her to hold her down, but she continued to struggle and shudder, her small frame threatening to come apart at the seams as the weapon chewed at her curse. The flail wouldn't respond to my command and refused to come free. I thought for sure I had killed her as the storm reached its peak, when tendrils of dark light flowed across the floor like toxic snakes, their paths random and questing.
Finally, she quieted and grew still. The chain, on its own accord, loosened and fell off her as a last few puffs of the black energy drifted away. The house was again silent.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there, holding her, listening to the sound of her breath to convince myself she was still alive, waiting with an anxiousness that she would regain consciousness and immediately attack me. At the time, I was so absorbed with what had just happened, I didn't realize that I no longer sensed any danger in this house.
Morning was just beginning to break when Lyanne awoke. She opened her eyes, looked at me, and smiled. Then she stretched out like a cat in the morning sunlight breaking through the windows.
She seemed different in sunlight. Her hair was a shade darker, her eyes less soft—not that any of it diminished from her beauty. Was it a trick of the light, or had a physical change accompanied a spiritual one?
“Did it work?” I asked, my voice betraying my fear that it had not.
Her smile was devious and alluring as she grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me down to her. “Only one way to find out.”
I cleared my throat. “Are you sure—wait, what the hell am I saying?” I grinned, lowering myself to her. There was a difference in needing a Succubus and wanting a woman—a subtle one, but present in the moment as I ran my hands over the rise of her breasts. Her back arched with pleasure.
“Good?” I asked in a low voice.
“I’ve never felt anything just for the sake of feeling,” she said, watching me as I continued to explore the lines of her body. “It was always the hunger. Always.”
“Are you hungry now?” I asked, then kissed her as softly as I dared. Our tongues began to play, hesitant but gaining confidence as she realized it was a simple kiss—hot and lusty, but a kiss, and natural in every way. She was a woman, and her body began to respond to my touches as I removed her skirt to reveal nothing but smooth skin and a soft mound of hair. Then I took off the rest of her clothes as her own hands grew busy, and we were naked, together, our bodies in contact, vibrating with anticipation for all the things that would come next.
“This is for you first,” I said, lowering myself to the intersection of her perfect legs. I dipped my tongue there, then began to taste her. The reaction was instant. She lifted to meet my mouth, the heat of her on my tongue like I was kissing the sun, and for the next few minutes, I did my work with a half-smile as her back rose and fell like the tides.
She came once, then twice, and then she pulled at my head with shaking hands, lifting me to kiss her as our bodies met in a heated rush. I nipped softly at her breasts, the creamy skin perfect, her nipples pink, puffed, welcoming.
“Yessss,” she hissed, but it was a noise of such satisfaction, I knew she hadn’t spoken like that in a long time. Lyanne was in the throes of raw pleasure now, not colored with supernatural pain or need, and I used my fingers, mouth, and hands on her in every way, exploring her body like a newfound world.
“I need something now,” she said, her brown eyes flashing with distant heat.
“Name it.”
“I haven’t thought of a name yet, but I will,” she said with a wicked grin, her fingers closing around the base of my shaft and guiding me inside her. It was warm and very tight, and when she locked her feet around me, I began stroking away under the command of a need that was primal.
“You were worth saving,” I said.
“Because of this?” Lyanne squeezed me deep inside her, lifting a brow of challenge before we kissed again.
“No, all of you, and who you are.” I thought it over for a second, then said, “Do that again.”
She squeezed again, and a ripple of pleasure spread through my entire body. “Okay, maybe it was because of that.”
Her laughter was low and rich as we continued moving against each other, then I felt the need grow inside me like an eruption.
“Go ahead. I want to—I want to feel it the way it’s supposed to be. I want to watch your face,” Lyanne said.
I came in waves, Lyanne’s hand on my chin as she watched, her eyes round and filled with wonder at my pleasure, and when it was all over, she smiled, thanking me in the hollow of my neck. I think I felt tears there, but I pulled her to my side, letting our hearts return to normal as the joy of it all settled in our bones the way it was supposed to.
“Glad we tried,” I said, and all she could do was nod, then something flared in her again, and the room tilted back to reality. Enough romance. It was time for business again, because I sensed we had time for a repeat performance.
I looked down and saw her smiling, looking me over with an intensity that was almost clinical.
“You're not dead,” she said.
I made a show of checking my pulse with my fingers. “Nope, still alive.”
She looked down at her hands like she was seeing them for the first time. “Then . . . it worked. I'm free.” The laugh that followed was not like her sultry chuckling from the other night. This was a true laugh of joy. “You actually did it. I didn't think it was possible.”
I gave her a searching look. “Why did you let me try?”
With a shrug, she replied, “I don't know. I was tired—well, beyond tired. Worn, if you want to know the truth, and immortality isn’t just dull, it’s lonely, and you seemed interesting. I’m still a woman, and a human being despite being cursed. As long as we're asking questions, why did you want to help me so bad, anyway?”
I couldn't match her non-nonchalant attitude. “You were interesting, too.” I felt myself smile.
She snorted, but smiled, too. It was erotic and charming at once. “You mean fuckable.” In one fluid motion she hopped to her feet. “I don't think you did it quite perfectly, though. I can still feel a small amount of my power. It's a sliver compared to what I once had, but it's still there.”
I hesitated, then gave her a sly smile of my own. “For the good of humanity, we can do it again.”
“No. The hunger's gone, and we just proved I'm no longer draining men. It should be fine like this. We'll need to work on
your technique for next time.”
“We?” I asked in mild surprise. “Next time? I like that kind of appointment.”
She came up close to me and pressed her body against mine. “You're going to keep helping the poor, cursed Succubi, aren't you?”
I considered my answer, because it hinged on two things—my desire to rid the world of vicious killers, and also have mind-bending sex with exquisite women. In the shortest internal debate in history, I concluded that both were very good things.
“I will,” I said with conviction.
“Then I don't see any reason why I shouldn't help you. Besides . . .” She leaned in and kissed me, and there was conflict in the gesture. She was trying to be casual, but I sensed real gratitude there. “Think of all the fun we can have together.”
I tried to embrace her, but she ducked away from me and stepped over to her pile of clothes. “Come on. I still have regular human hunger, and I'm starving. Let's go grab breakfast. I also really need a shower. Where do you live?”
With an embarrassed cough, I said, “There's this crappy little hotel . . .”
Lyanne tsked as she rapidly dressed. “Oh, no, that won't do. If you're going to be a successful hunter, we need to set you up in a real headquarters.”
I could already tell Lyanne was going to be a tough woman to keep up with. “We do?”
She frowned at me. “Of course we do. Don't you want the best tools possible? I know a few realtors in the city, I'll give them a call. After breakfast, of course.”
The next few days mostly consisted of me trying in vain to keep up with Lyanne as she badgered realtors into showing us apartments all throughout the city. We saw a dozen that were large enough to put my home back in Iowa to shame, but nothing ever seemed good enough for her. She insisted we find one that was the right mix of “size, class, convenience, and access,” whatever that meant.
Succubus Hunter Page 3
