Demon Lovers: Succubi

by Lori Selke

  There was nothing there.

  As she thought that traitor thought, whatever unseen thing she had conjured fled. She felt it go, taking heat and pulsating power with it, as if it had never been.

  “Ah!” she cried out in frustration and came fully back to herself. She stood in a rustle of skirts, hands cooling, but the lingering heat gone to her face. She felt sweat break out on her brow, and the unpleasant stickiness added to her discomfort. She paced away from the chair and Julia who sat beside her. She spun about and faced her mentor.

  “I can’t do it! I don’t know what you all sense in me, but you must be mistaken. I don’t even know what it is I’m trying to do!”

  A smile tugged at Julia’s lips and she shook her head. “Nor do we, but trust me, you have a gift, and it will come clear to you sooner or later. We all must— “

  “—discover our gifts for ourselves. So I’ve been told.” She looked down at her hands. “It appears I can dispense with a muff in the winter now. I suppose that’s a gift.” Frustration sharpened her tone.

  “Your talents go far beyond parlor tricks, Elise.”

  “So you say.” She turned and walked to the window casement, looked out over city streets below. She was so distracted today, her thoughts in a hundred places. No wonder she couldn’t concentrate. She still felt Vivian’s fingers at the back of her neck, and even when she shoved that memory from her thoughts, here was Julia. Elise had few women friends, and none closer than Julia. Was it any surprise she should be passionate about that friendship? If only she dared to talk about it.

  “What if you’re wrong?” she said instead. “Tarot cards might be my only strong suit after all.”

  Julia came to her side, close enough for their skirts to nestle against each other. Elise felt the other woman reach out, place a reassuring hand on her forearm.

  “These things take time. Self-mastery is a life-long discipline, or so Aunt Lucy assures me.” Her tone was dry. “But unlocking your abilities will come more swiftly than that. All you need is to give it— “

  “Time?” She turned and met Julia’s gaze, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “I don’t have time. If I don’t do this now, I won’t be here to do it later.”

  Julia blinked in consternation. Her grip tightened reflexively. “What do you mean?”

  Elise patted her hand, then grasped it in her own and intertwined her fingers with Julia’s. “Neddy’s dying,” she confided. “He has a growth…the doctors think he’ll be gone within a year, possibly two. He might last longer, but they can’t promise anything.”

  “Elise! I’m so sorry.” Her brow creased. “You’ve called in a Church healer? Tried alchemy?”

  “Everything. It lessens, then returns worse than before. There’s nothing for it.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “Before he loses his vitality, he’s set on leaving.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Elise gave a twisted smile. “He recalls our island colonies with great fondness. They’ve become a paradise in his memories, you see, the scenes of his seafaring youth, and recently he inherited a plantation on Nevis. He’s always dreamed of living there, and now—well, he’s stepping down, and we’re moving to the West Indies.”

  Julia eyes widened in shock. “To Nevis?” She searched Elise’s face for a hint of the joke this must be, and found none. “You can’t be serious. There’s nothing there but, but…”

  “Plantations, and distilleries, and a governor’s town in a tedious little backwater colony. I know. But it’s his dream, Julia, and he’s dying. I can’t fight him on this. He’ll see it before he goes. He must.”

  “But, but—what about you?” Julia burst out. “Uprooted from friends? Stuck on an island far from everything you know? Taken away from m—us?”

  Elise heard Julia’s self-correction, and her fingers clenched her friend’s. This is what she didn’t want to give up. A kindred spirit like this, so rare, and their relationship not yet even grown into what she knew it could be.

  What it will never be, she realized, and tears flowed free.

  Julia looked as stricken as she felt, and pressed closer, an arm going around her shawl-covered shoulders, one hand caressing her cheek, brushing tears away.

  “Oh, Elise, I’m so sorry!” She brushed her cheek with a kiss. And then brushed her lips as well.

  Elise was taken by surprise. It was sweet; it was chaste.

  It was electrifying.

  She found herself returning the kiss, lips parting, their angle and voluminous skirts not permitting much closer contact, but the spark between them was tangible. Elise pulled back to look at her friend with widened eyes, awash with a storm of emotion.

  The door latch opened, the sound of it startling them apart, and in walked Vivian.

  Like a hound with the scent, a succubus always knows where her prey is, for the victim’s sublimated desires resonate on the ether like the lingering tone of a bowed note. Vivian followed that note to seek Julia out, hoping to find her in a moment with her defenses down: no longer the teacher before her class of empty-headed humans, authoritas firmly in place, but simply a woman, unsuspecting and unguarded.

  But this—this wild chiaroscuro of desire, restrained yet tugging at the leash, mixed with attraction and yearning, longing and sadness—this was most unexpected. She paused outside the workroom door, became near drunk on the heady mix of feelings behind it. She felt herself ignite in sympathetic vibration. Whatever Julia was doing behind that door—

  She froze on the threshold. She saw the two women moving apart, interrupted in near-embrace, and it was all she could do to master herself. Vivian was a creature born of lust, manifested first on an unearthly plane before ever appearing on the physical, and the riptide of emotion and desire was a visible current in the air before her. It told her all she needed to know about these two, and more.

  Her hunger roared awake and became a physical demand, but she could not feed—not yet, not here, with her prey alert and a companion nearby. She controlled herself with an effort and continued to play her chosen role.

  “Pardon me,” she excused her intrusion. “I was looking for Lady Flewelling’s talk on scrying.”

  In spite of herself, she could not resist testing the waters, and gave the women a knowing look that belied her innocent words. It set Elise blushing; Julia responded with more aplomb, returning her gaze with an enigmatic expression.

  We’ll see how long she can keep control of herself like that, Vivian thought, once I’m touching her as she yearns to be touched.

  “Down the hall,” Julia directed in quite a normal tone of voice. “Second door on the left.”

  Vivian stifled a laugh, and managed a nod of acknowledgment instead. The attraction between the two was tangible. Elise was flustered and drawn by it; Julia eager to explore it; the magnetism in either case undeniable. It gave the succubus the perfect entree to their dreams. Now she knew what guise to wear, who they would respond to in their defenseless sleep. Neither her prey nor the morsel she would savor at leisure could hope to resist her, not when she came cloaked in the form of the one each desired.

  She dropped a half-curtsey and left the room, savoring the bittersweet flare of concupiscence mixed with embarrassment as the door shut behind her.

  Let your fires burn, she thought. That’s all the more for me, come the night.

  Elise felt her cheeks burning as Vivian shut the door and left. She shot a stricken look at Julia, then her brows drew together as she saw how collected her friend appeared.

  “Are you not concerned? I think she saw us.”

  Julia raised one eyebrow. “Saw us what? Kissing, as close friends sometimes do?”

  Elise shrugged. “Women sometimes do, yes, but not quite like we did.”

  “Or did she see us embracing, instead?” A devilish smile tugged at Julia’s lips as she linked her arm through Elise’s. A reassuring hand-pat followed. “And so what if she did? No one will believe her, or no one will care.” Her eyes caught El
ise’s. “It’s not like we’ve done more.”

  Again Elise felt that thrill through the core of her being. Her voice lowered. “And might we do more?”

  The question lingered in the air between them until in response Julia raised her hand and kissed the back of it. The touch of her lips sent a tingle across her skin, and Elise realized she was holding her breath.

  “We might,” Julia replied in a husky tone. “But this is new to you, sweetness. You must come to me, when you’re ready. If you’re certain.”

  Elise studied her friend, took in the invitation and temptation all at once. Her milky skin, inviting a caress; hair, so dark brown it was almost black; hazel eyes flecked with brown and gold; high cheekbones; full lips she wanted to taste again.

  If she listened to her body alone, she already knew her answer. She’d only heard whispers of such a thing, but would it not be the perfect solution? Her husband would not be cuckolded, she could not be at risk from a man ruining her reputation, and as long as she was discreet, close time spent between intimate women friends was so commonplace it would not raise any questions.

  To be with Julia in that way would not only feed this wanton desire she felt burning within her; it would be safe, as long as she could pursue it quietly. And she no longer had all the time in the world to cultivate an affair. If she was going to take this route, this was a perfect time, before she left England. Perhaps because she was leaving England.

  She squeezed her friend’s hand. “We could meet at your house?”

  “For later, yes. But if you wish to meet sooner, while we’re here this week—come to my room after the others are asleep.”

  Elise nodded.

  “My door will be open,” Julia added. “If I nod off, wake me.” A suggestive smile crossed her lips, and Elise could not help but respond in kind. Her heart raced. Would she do it? Lord knew she was curious. She relived the one kiss they’d shared, felt the thrill of that forbidden delight throughout her body.

  Suddenly it was no longer a memory, but Julia kissing her goodbye, a brief intimacy promising so much more.

  Then her friend was gone, and Elise stood trembling and aroused in the workroom, alone.

  * * *

  The dormitory of the Charité was like that of the better sort of girl’s school: rows of tidy, comfortable beds, a chest at the foot of each, but also armoires separating each bedstead, with here and there sitting tables, wash basins and two large mirrors for dressing. These were things grown women required of their accommodations, be they ever so school-like in nature. Even so, some of those visiting would never adjust: such living and blending with others was beyond their nature to accommodate, or the expectation of modest living too far from their customary ways. Those supplicants would leave soon enough, not able to see past this simple obstacle to the goal that lay beyond.

  Many would treat it as a challenge or an unexpected adventure in sisterhood, helping each other to brush or braid their hair; being helped to dress or undress in the corsets and crinolines they all lacked maids to assist with. The wiser ones would see the analogy with finishing school or academy experiences, and recognize that this living requirement drew a line between the mundane world and life here, in this place of mysteries and esoteric learning.

  Elise enjoyed the spartan accommodations no more than the others, but she was the senior of those present and fully understood what these ladies must be going through in adapting to the shared life of the sisterhood. She was not surprised to see that two of their number had already left. One bed next to her own was vacant, the armoire emptied. She regarded it practically: another one unsuited to the Temple had parted ways with it.

  And now there was one less observant neighbor to notice if she left the dormitory that night.

  Not if, she corrected herself. When. The thought made her stomach twist into a nervous knot, but she knew when curiosity and interest had the better of her. She had made up her mind. Tonight she would satisfy that curiosity and take Julia up on her invitation.

  She finished brushing her hair out for the night, but in the last rhythmic strokes, she felt eyes upon her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Vivian also readied for bed and watching her every movement, a smile tugging at her lips.

  Elise blushed, and turned her back to the woman’s gaze. Thankfully Vivian was at the far end of the room, not close enough to be as forward as she’d been that morning. Still, Elise was unsettled: by the woman’s sheer beauty, worn so un-self-consciously; and by the pure sensuality of her being, something inviting and maddening about it at the same time, especially when one was pressed up against a wall, powerless in her grasp…

  Her traitor imagination pictured what it would be like to kiss Vivian, and half wished the woman had carried through with her actions that morning. It was improper, and part of her should be offended, but somehow she was not. Is that why I want Julia? She wondered. There was no denying the state of arousal Vivian’s aggressive touch had left her in, and then when Julia kissed her…

  Or have I wanted something like this all along, and just not known it? It was an obvious question to ask. On the other hand, it might be best not to ask anything at all, but simply to trust her instincts and do what her heart prompted her to do.

  Elise banished doubt from her mind and laid down, resolved to think only of Julia, of what they might do together that night. In an hour, when everyone was asleep, she would go.

  She closed her eyes to pretend sleep herself, and imagined how it would feel to lie entwined with her friend and confidant. Her fingers strayed between her legs and she pictured Julia stroking her there. Her body cried out to be touched, and she suddenly thought better of what she was doing. Not yet, she disciplined herself. You can wait this little while. Better to do this with her, than alone. A mischievous smile played across her face. She put her hand by her side and lay still beneath the covers, waiting until the others slept so she could leave.

  Leaving her physical shape in a pose of sleep, the entity that called herself Vivian slipped free into the astral plane. Her light-body shimmered and in that dimension she resumed her natural form: the leather-winged, horned, barb-tailed figure of the succubus Cleastra.

  She stood in the astral analog of the dormitory, a dream-like semblance of the physical room in which colors and inanimate objects were muted, shadowed, while living energies were vibrant, glowing like embers or shot through with the colors of auras. Humans settled into sleep around her, bright coals atop shadowy bedsteads, the sheen of their energy barely muffled by the ghostly bedclothes that covered them.

  Cleastra prowled down the row of beds, her eyes straying over the slumbering women in each. Chakras twinkled like small stars amidst the jewel tones of their auras. She stopped at the foot of Elise’s bed, traced the red chord of desire that tied her first three chakras together, a kundalini glow trailing off to other power points in her body, and nodded to herself in satisfaction.

  No wonder this one tasted so…delectable. All this energy, blocked, with no proper outlet for it. Cleastra licked her lips hungrily. Elise guarded against sleep, but that was no protection from a succubus. Cleastra calmed the energies of those around her, deepening their slumbers. Then she reached out and placed one long-taloned hand upon the astral analog of the unsuspecting woman’s brow. She set her palm to the golden yellow glow of the chakra there.

  Sleep. Dream.

  Cleastra let her essence bleed down her own energy meridians, out through her hand, blending with Elise’s. As she drifted off, the succubus put her other hand over the woman’s mound, within the energy field of her lowest chakra. The two polarities met within Cleastra with an electric jolt, and she felt her nipples stiffen with the thrill of it. Her tail lashed; she threw her head back, eyes closed, and let herself go.

  She shifted half a vibration higher, to that level where dream forms manifested in the upper astral. The pictures in Elise’s imagination were laid bare for Cleastra to see: Julia, it was, touching her so, kissing her so…
>
  Cleastra insinuated herself into the dream, became Julia, clad only in a dressing robe, her hair long and loose, lounging in a warm inviting bed. She embraced Elise, drew her close, caressed and kissed and teased her with the sure hands and mouth of an experienced lover.

  In dream form it was so easy to touch Elise as she desired. Even more delicious was the sexual energy that burned hot against Cleastra’s astral hand, flowing from the core of her victim, filling her with vitality and lust and life. In the dream her fingers slid into slippery wetness; she drank moans and sighs from Elise’s lips, nipped skin between her teeth, sharp points of pleasure driving her prey closer to orgasm. She rubbed her just so with thumb and palm and then—so effortlessly—over the edge into shuddering waves of pleasure.

  Elise’s physical body slumbered on, lost deep in dream, giving not so much as a twitch to betray her state to her neighbors in the dormitory. In her mind, though—oh, there she was disheveled and panting and shuddering still in the embrace of dream-Julia.

  Cleastra’s own pleasure could wait. If she came, there was a price for her human partner, who would give up much more than mere pleasure. For her to be truly satisfied required something more and different than she was doing with Elise. This was simply…a refreshment, to whet her appetite.

  She withdrew from the woman’s dream and disentangled their energies on the astral plane. Charged with Elise’s sexual release, Cleastra felt more alive than ever. Now, while every bit of her was brimming with the essence of sexuality—now was the time to find Julia.

  When she was vibrant like this, not even a Lamont could resist her touch. The seduction would begin in Julia’s dreams, but it wouldn’t stay there. Cleastra would be in her victim’s bed physically as well, and when she finally allowed herself to come, she would drain everything from the woman: every last bit of her essence, until all that remained was a shriveled husk. It was no delicate cat-and-mouse game when she took someone physically. Playing in the body was playing for keeps.