by Liza James
Alf is another Fallen Angel. He’s older, but has been working at the Capital with Nathanial and Elijah. He can’t go out into the field anymore, and he’s become one of their most trusted friends. It was only logical to shift him into a new role once we all moved into our new home. He’s kind, a little timid, and I know he’s afraid of me. He always worries when I ask him to take me into the city. But it’s when I tell him not to wait for my return that he informs the others.
I’ll either stay the night with whoever I hook up with, or someone from home will undoubtedly show up to drag my ass back. It’s usually Luna and Elijah, because wherever she goes, he’s right behind. Or it’s Nathanial. In which case, I prefer the former.
Nathanial arouses too many emotions, too much pain for me to stand being around him for long. He lies. I can feel it every time I ask him, beg him even, for fucking help. Because I have this nagging feeling that he can—help me, that is.
But he refuses. Every goddamn time, he says no. You’d think that eventually I’d get the hint and stop asking. I wish that was case. I hate myself for everything I want and need from the two men who can only destroy me.
I need to be fed by Danner.
But I need to feel, need to connect with Nathanial.
He hardly comes into my room anymore to save me from the nightmares. After he taught me how to fight Danner off and I was able to wake up on my own, he stopped stepping in to help.
It’s bittersweet knowing I have the strength to push Danner away when he visits me in my dreams. But it becomes harder and harder every time I force myself to say no to him. The hunger inside of my soul grows, it gnaws at my bones and consumes my organs. The starvation laces my blood and I find myself in situations like this, where I’m placing humans in danger because of my own destructive needs.
After we learned that I was a Succubus, Luna dove into research to find a way to help. Clearly, we haven’t progressed much. I’m surrounded by Fallen Angels, not Demons. No one actually knows the real details of what I’m experiencing, the unending hunger.
No one understands.
However, after one encounter at Pandora’s Box, we did learn that if I’m not careful with humans, I can damn near kill them if I feed too much from their essence. If I take and take, they aren’t powerful enough to maintain their strength. I was in a viewing room with a man I had met one night. We were fucking and I was feeding from our tension without monitoring the amount. I didn’t realize I needed too. Thankfully, Nathanial found us at the last moment and tore us apart, showing me how dangerous the effects of my Succubus nature could be.
The guy lived. Nathanial truly is talented in healing both humans and Angels alike. He made sure the stranger was hydrated and handed him a few Advil, ensuring he believed that his drink had been spiked earlier in the evening.
Afterwards, he hauled me back home and wouldn’t speak to me for several days. That’s the kind of relationship we stand in now, an awkward painful period of anger and hate where we constantly fight until I’m in enough pain that I beg him for help. Only to be rejected again and again and again.
It’s been a long few months of us all living together. Amelia hides in her room, hardly communicating with any of us. She’s angry, I can feel it radiating off of her anytime she’s near. Her emotions are so tangible, seeping into each of us and driving a deeper wedge between her and Luna. They clearly hate each other, but at least Luna attempts being somewhat civilized in their interactions.
Danner continues to visit me every night. I believe he visits Amelia as well, because each day seems to showcase her deprived sleep and restless mind. I can relate.
Things are becoming harder. I can feel the strength it takes to push him away draining with every visitation. My body yearns for him. My Succubus is angry and vile and forcing her way to the forefront of my mind. All I can think about is feeding—until Nathanial walks into the room. Then all I can think about is feeding from him. When he’s near, everything becomes clearer. My senses sharpen and hone in on the strange internal tether I have to him. But while the fog in my mind dissipates, that aching hunger is magnified tenfold. I feel the brutal agony feasting on my insides every time I hear his dark, husky voice skate across my ears. My mind loses itself to countless images of us together, a torturous reminder of something he’ll never give me.
I can’t explain it, but instinctually I know things could be different if he’d just let me in. God, I hope they can be different. With each passing day, a little more of me wonders how much more I can take of this. Most of me would rather die than succumb to Danner. But another part of me begs for the satisfaction I’ve only ever gotten from him.
So, I’m here at an obscure club in the heart of New York City, dancing against a human man who truly is doing almost nothing for my arousal. But that’s how desperate I am, I take every inch I can get in order to soothe the sting inside of me.
His gentle hands glide across my arms as my back presses against his chest. The loud beat of the music throbs around us in the dark room. We’re in the center, tightly pressed against countless other sweat soaked bodies and I work to feed from even the people around me—from the sexual tension coursing through the room. I don’t draw much, I haven’t learned to pull everything I need from them. Only direct contact, direct arousal sustains me the most. And even then, it’s a crumb in comparison to what I’ve gotten in the past.
His soft lips dip down against my ear and I arch into his grasp. I lift a hand and let it slide to the back his neck, tangling in his shaggy blond hair as I pull him even tighter against me. His lips fall to mine and instantly I’m searching for his essence—his chi to feed my hunger. I wait for the arousal to pool between my thighs and as his gentle caress pries my lips apart, a sting of disappointment washes through me.
I hate the sweet ones.
I’m not here to find a new boyfriend. I’m here to get a nice hard fuck and a goddamn meal so I can have enough strength to fight off Danner tonight.
I tug his hair lightly, silently urging him to be a bit more dominant. It doesn’t come though, and his hands travel up to brush a lock of my fiery red hair back from my forehead. I reluctantly pull my lips away and plaster a fake, small smile across my face in hopes that he doesn’t see my disappointment. When his hands drop from their hold, I tug them into my own and place them on my hips, guiding him in how I want to be touched.
He follows my lead—thank fuck—and pulls my hips tighter against his own. He’s already hard, I can feel his cock pressing into the small of my back and that, finally, nudges my arousal a bit. Not much, but at least I can try and make things work from here.
I close my eyes and lose myself to the music. I’ve been drinking and have a nice buzz going on, so I work to disappear inside of my mind and draw from the tension around me, from the man at my back whose body is grinding against my own.
I lift both of my hands and bring them back up to his neck. He bends until I can feel the silky strands of his hair once again. I’ve sworn I wouldn’t do this again, but I end up doing the only thing that can further my arousal.
I imagine it’s Nathanial I’m with.
I didn’t realize I was doing it the first time it happened, and then I began to see a pattern in each of my hookups. They all have that golden, tousled hair that plagues my mind. They’re all taller, wider, and thicker across the chest. None of them have tattoos. The only characteristic I find the opposite in is their eyes. Because I can’t look into them and let it go that far. I can’t let my heart and mind truly believe I’m with Nathanial when I’m not. He has gorgeous, aquatic blue eyes that drive through my mind and embed their pain in my existence.
So, everyone I’m with has any color but. It’s where I draw the line in this toxic pattern I’ve fallen into.
But right now? I can’t see his eyes. All I can do is feel his long hair and absorb the touch of his strong body behind mine. That in itself is vague enough for me to imagine it’s Nathanial, and all of a sudden, my arousal spi
kes and heats through my body.
He feels it, the sudden change, because his lips come crashing back to mine in a heated kiss that scorches through me. Nathanial’s lips drag across my own and I willingly open for him, seeking him out and invading his mouth with my own tongue. I use my hand to guide his farther down my stomach, inching closer and closer to where I’m aching and wanting to be filled.
“Let’s get out of here,” I demand. It’s not even a question at this point. I’m ready and I need to feed from this moment while I still can. I pull away from him, careful not to meet his eyes and really look at the man, who so clearly isn’t Nathanial, as I lead us to the back of the club and towards the bathrooms.
It’s dirty and filthy, but I’m so hungry that I could fuck in the gravel behind this old club and be perfectly fine with it. I push the door to the ladies’ room open and see two young women, drunkenly laughing in front of the cracked and destroyed mirror. Their make-up is smeared across their faces, and they can hardly stand but I eye them both with a clear command until they straighten, hurrying past us and out of the room.
The lighting in here is dark, and the walls are black with countless graffitied terms scribbled across the brick. I’m sure someone has thrown up in here because the rancid smell wafts through my nose and I fight to not let it ruin my arousal.
Get it over with, Stella. Fuck and feed and move on.
“Uh, are you sure you want to do this in here?” the man asks behind me, the higher tenor of his voice chips away at my desire to have him.
“Shh, we’ll be quick. It’ll be worth it,” I coo as I shift us around so that I’m pressed against the wall and he hovers in front of me. I immediately tug his head down and claim his mouth with my own, forcing us back into a moment I can feed from.
He groans against my mouth as his gentle hands slide up the front of my small black, crop top until he reaches my breasts. He slowly kneads one, letting his thumb brush over the tip of my nipple. I arch into his touch, offering him even more of me. Begging him to take more in the rougher way I’m craving.
I’m quicker than he is though, and let my hands drop to the button on his jeans as I pull them open and unzip him. His hips thrust forward into my grasp and I slide my hand around his hard length as I begin to slowly stroke him.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he whispers against my lips and I fight the wince that immediately pinches my features. No small talk, no sweet words. I don’t want that.
“Lift me up,” I say as I tug his jeans down enough to free his erection. I pull a condom out from the top of my shirt and tear it open with my teeth. I’m wearing a long, red flowy skirt that drapes across my feet but has high slits in both sides.
“Holy shit, you come prepared. I like that in a lady,” he laughs into the empty space between us and with each word I find myself falling farther away from being into this. I can’t imagine it’s Nathanial when he’s talking. I can’t imagine he’s someone else while I have my eyes open.
I slip the condom onto his shaft and lift my skirt as he does what he’s told and picks me up from behind my thighs. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist and urge him forward with my heels.
He doesn’t wait, slipping into me in one quick motion. But he also moves slowly as he drags himself out before sliding back in. He’s being sweet, and gentle, easing me into this even though it’s quickly ruining every hope I had from feeding off him. Truthfully, he has what I like to call, a starter dick. It’s all right, it could get the job done if he really worked at it, but otherwise—it’s another let down.
His head drops to my shoulder as I close my eyes and try to imagine Nathanial in front of me. I let my fingers brush through his hair and envision the golden strands draped around my hand. He continues his slow and steady thrusts, his higher groans breaching the space around us and my head falls back against the wall in complete frustration.
“Harder,” I moan, gripping his neck and pulling his lips to mine. He hesitates for a second, but then moves forward, only slightly quicker than before. “You can be rough with me. I can take it,” I mumble against his lips. “You can pull my hair, bite my lip, choke me. Hell, pick your poison, dude. I’m good for it.”
“Wait, do you want that?” He pauses his movements and pulls back to search my eyes. I can hear the tentative tone lacing his voice. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and isn’t sure how to handle this.
“Yes, I want that,” I answer honestly, trying to salvage this fucking disaster of a hook-up. I take his hand from one of my thighs and slowly drag it upwards to my throat, showing him exactly how I want him to hold me. His eyes flare in surprised heat for a moment, and finally he begins picking up the pace a bit.
He continues thrusting into me as a needy whimper escapes my lips. He holds my throat for only a few seconds before he drops his hand to my shoulder and whispers into my ear. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful.”
I fight the immediate urge to groan out in irritation at his kind and soft demeanor. I don’t fault him for it, it’s fine. But it’s not what I need, what I crave. I can’t feed from sweet. But he’s enjoying this, that’s for fucking sure and his thrusts become more frantic as he nears his release.
Great. Thirty seconds in and he’s already done.
“Say something filthy,” I pant, frantically trying to approach this from a different angle. His eyes meet mine in confusion before they quickly clear in an assertive realization.
“You like this? Like this dick you dirty slut?” His face beams nothing but confidence as he speaks the words and literally every possibility of being able to feed shatters around me. I place a hand on his chest to halt his movements as I meet his eyes in surprise.
“For fuck sake, who in the world taught you that was the right thing to say in bed?” I ask, genuinely concerned for his past sexual encounters.
He pauses, silence builds between us as confusion furrows his eyebrows. He’s obviously taken aback by the sudden reaction to his comment. “But we aren’t in bed?”
“Oh my god. All right, please stop talking,” I finally force the words out of my mouth as he resumes thrusting inside of me. I let my head fall to the side when something catches my eye, something bright. Something fucking blue and piercing and painful.
“Nathanial,” I whimper and immediately my eyes fog over in that creamy white haze that ensures my feeding. It only happens when I’m absorbing something from my interaction. If I’m not truly turned on, it won’t overtake me. But with Nathanial, it’s always an automatic response. It’s as simple as breathing when I see him.
“Stella,” he states plainly and suddenly the guy I’m fucking freezes his movements to look over his shoulder.
“What the fuck?” he asks, but I arch my back and urge him to continue while my eyes stay on Nathanial. “Wait, is this some sort of twisted thing you two do? Watch each other fuck other people?” he asks, shock evident in his voice but he continues. I know he’s turned on by the odd interaction, his dick becomes impossibly thicker as he moves inside of me. Points for that.
“No,” we both say in unison, but it doesn’t make any sense. I know that. I can’t explain it, so I don’t try to.
“Help me,” I beg Nathanial, drawing from the fact that his eyes have also ghosted over while he watches us. He knows what I’m asking him for. He knows that I’m begging him to step in and take over for the guy in front of me who means absolutely nothing.
“No,” he replies, and that familiar sting of rejection works its way through me. I feel the tears build in my eyes as my arousal grows and works to peak in the midst of my pain.
“Then do something. Take out your cock and stroke yourself while you fucking watch,” I grind out between clenched teeth. A moan slips from my lips as my eyes drop to see Nathanial’s already hard cock pressed tightly behind the silky fabric of his black dress slacks.
“No.”
“Why not?” I ask as all of the anger and hurt build in my chest. My heart is racing, hammering agai
nst my skin while everything else heats with fiery resentment.
“Because I hate seeing him with you.” His answer is straightforward and firm. It rips through my mind and cascades over me in twisted reminders of how we’re so incredibly fucked up.
“Then stop him and take over, Nathanial.” Tears well in my eyes and threaten to spill over. I fight to keep my voice steady as I speak to him. The guy in front of me hasn’t even slowed his movements, clearly turned on and believing this is some sort of game we play with each other.
“No. I know you need this,” Nathanial answers offhandedly and everything inside of me breaks at his response. At the same moment, the guy reaches his climax and comes on his last thrust as I push him away from me and fall to the cold ground.
“Get the fuck out,” I tell the guy and he stumbles back in bewilderment. He quickly tucks his semi-hard cock back into his jeans before turning and taking a wide berth around Nathanial as he leaves the bathroom.
Tears spill from my eyes and coat my cheeks as I pull my knees tightly against my chest. Nathanial slowly steps forward and crouches in front of me. His white dress shirt pulls against his powerful chest and strains across his biceps. I close my eyes and let my head fall to the brick wall, forcing deeper breaths in and out of my lungs.
“I’m starving,” I whisper painfully. My voice cracks at the admittance but I refuse to look and meet Nathanial’s eyes.
“I know,” he says quietly as he places his palm against my cheek to check my temperature. It’s something he’s been doing lately, making sure I’m not spiking too hot in the midst of my attempted feedings. It’s one of the rare times I can get him to touch me.
