Work Text:
05/10, day one of observation
subject 018
class: succubus, threat level: tbd
Subject is petite, dark-haired, pale, with brown eyes, and a noticeable scar across the face. No use of glamour charms to hide the marring. Appears to be weaker than most, perhaps due to a lack of proper feeding. Whether that is purposeful or because of a weak nature is to be determined.
Behavior is atypical for succubi. While most are prone to gorging themselves on their victims, the subject seems to be uninterested in feeding, to the point of disgust. Almost akin to fasting. Like all succubi, men are drawn to her due to her unnatural allure, but the subject outright dismisses anyone who shows interest in her.
It is difficult to determine how the subject feeds. Dream feeds cannot sustain succubi for long periods of time. They need frequent physical exchanges to replenish their energy and strength. Subject is masquerading as a regular human at a club. Low-level cocktail waitress. Access to a large group of inebriated men late at night. Could the subject be feeding off patrons?
Closer look required to determine threat level and next course of action.
*
“Run your drinks for Table 15. And try to smile at the patrons for once? It wouldn’t kill you to act like you don’t hate this job.”
Utahime did not smile at her boss, flashing him an unamused look as she placed the four drinks on a tray and then spun on her heels. She slid through the crowd, deftly avoiding being touched by the men and women who had already had too much to drink. Every time someone brushed up against her, a bolt of electricity shot up her spine, reminding her acutely of what she was lacking.
It had been almost three weeks since she’d allowed anyone to touch her, and she was suffering the consequences severely.
“There’s our girl!” one of the men at the table exclaimed upon her arrival. “We were beginning to worry we might’ve scared you off.”
“Hardly,” Utahime replied as she set their drinks down. “I’ve got a job to do.”
“No tucking tail and running off?”
One of his friends playfully nudged him with his elbow. “C’mon, man, she’s got thicker skin than that. Look at her.”
The leader of their group grinned, his eyes sliding over her face. “I am.” He picked up his drink and took a long gulp, swallowing down half of the beer in one go. “Why don’t you sit down with us for a while? I promise we won’t bite.”
“Like I said, I’ve got a job to do, so if you don’t mind–”
The man grabbed her by the arm, stopping her cold. “No need to be so formal with me, babe.”
Utahime did not react immediately, even though his grip on her made her feel like screaming. Her skin seemed to burn where he was touching her, everything in her body lighting up. It was like something was coming to life inside of her, something dormant and forgotten, blooming underneath her skin until she was aglow. A long ignored need pulsed in the back of her mind, reminding her of what she was.
It was a bitter reminder, so she shoved it back down and peeled the man’s fingers off her.
“Touch me unsolicited again, and I’ll stab you.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry, babe, it’s like I can’t help myself with you.”
The pathetic part, Utahime huffed as she made her way back to the bar, was that he probably couldn’t. There was something about her that drew men in, something they couldn’t put a finger on. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman in this club, and she certainly wasn’t the most inviting, but even with the scar on her face, they couldn’t help but look at her twice, search for her in a crowd, yearn to see her again.
And no matter how much she tried to suppress it, her alluring nature as a succubus was even more apparent since it had been weeks since she’d fed.
Starving herself like this was dangerous for everyone, including herself. Succubus not only needed to feed regularly to replenish their strength and stay alive, but also to keep themselves in check. A hungry succubus could lose control, draining their victims too fast or even killing them before they could fully feed. Hunger made succubus loose canons, muddying their minds, making it easier for them to show themselves in the open.
That was even more dangerous, hence why their feedings were done so privately. An exposed succubus was a dead one.
“Take this drink to Table 23.”
Utahime wrinkled her nose. “That’s not my section.”
“Well, you’re the only one around. Plus, it’s just one guy. You can handle that, can’t you?”
Her boss was a sour man, but that wasn’t his fault entirely either. Being exposed to her for this long without getting any affection from her had done some devastating damage. It didn’t matter that he was married with kids. She’d rebuffed all his advances, not out of some moral standing but simply because she didn’t like the man. If she fed on him, he’d be the only one getting any pleasure out of it, and she’d have to get another job. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
Never dip your pen in the company ink.
Utahime took the drink, a little surprised when she read the ticket. A melon soda, nothing more. It was uncommon for patrons to order anything without alcohol, much less when they were alone, but this guy didn’t even blink twice when he took the drink off her tray.
“Thanks.” He seemed to notice the look on her face, grinning around the straw as he added, “Trying not to let the night end too early, you know?”
She nodded. That made sense. A lot of people ended the night earlier than planned, burning both ends of their candles too quickly. Too many drinks, too many drugs, too much of everything. They couldn’t seem to help themselves. Maybe she was partly to blame. The weekends she fed didn’t seem to be as bad, everyone sated more than usual, their bellies and minds full.
“What about you?” he asked in between sips on the soda. “Can I buy you a drink now, or do you have to wait until you’re off the clock?”
Utahime hesitated. Truth be told, he was an attractive man, if not an unusual one. A shock of soft white hair with almost perfect facial features. Even though he was sitting down at a high-top table, she could tell he was tall, long-limbed, and athletic-looking. He was wearing a suit, but judging from the way he was holding himself, he was very likely in shape.
But what caught her attention the most was his sunglasses. He was wearing them even in the darkened club, like they could protect him from the flashing lights or make him look mysterious.
What a douchebag.
“I’m good for now,” she settled on saying. Plus, it wasn’t like she ever paid for her drinks. The bartender tonight might’ve been a woman, but that didn’t matter to her.
He raised his glass. “Suit yourself.”
Utahime turned on her heels and made her way back to the bar. She didn’t speak to him again for the rest of the night, though her eyes occassionally drifted across the club to find him. There were moments when she thought she felt eyes on her, sharper than usual, but whenever she looked around, it was either no one or the usual dumb suspects.
She really needed to feed soon. She was always too on edge when she let it get this bad.
But not tonight.
*
13/10, day eight of observation
subject 018
class: succubus, threat level: minor
After a week of obversation, subject was finally caught in the act of feeding for the first time. As suspected, the subject’s work position at a club is being used to find victims, but not in the standard way expected of succubi.
The club location and clientele offer a large variety of potential victims. Many offer themselves to her nightly, but instead of going to a secondary location with them, where she could feed privately, the subject rejects their advances. Does the level of their desire affect the subject’s feeding? The stronger the advances, the more the subject resists.
Judging from the subject’s weakened state, nearly a month has passed since her last feeding. During a nightly surveillance, the subject vanished from the club for a period of time. The subject was found outside the club in the alley with a patron. The victim was at a table with a group of men earlier, but he did not interact much with the subject, subservient to the others.
Subject appeared to derive no pleasure from the feeding, which is unusual for a succubus. The subject cut the feeding short before the full ritual could be completed and an intervention could be initiated. The victim was drained of energy but left alive to recover before calling a ride home. Seemed more confused and too drunk than wounded.
The subject was energized after the feeding but did not return to full strength. She seems to be surviving off partial physical feedings instead of full ones. Very unusual. Threat level upgraded to minor. More observation is required.
*
Utahime couldn’t remember a time when this wasn’t her life. There had been a time when she hadn’t been so resentful of it – a time when she’d revelled in her nature and enjoyed all the spoils of her pleasure. She used to laugh when men fell for her tricks, delighted in the attention given to her, played all the gimmicks at her disposal.
She’d loved the game of it all, drawing more pleasure out of the build-up than the feeding itself.
When it came to feeding, she was never overt about it. She’d seen the way others like her strutted themselves. The glamour charms and the over the top flirtation, almost like they were putting on a show. It worked, of course, but she liked to work a more subtle approach. Sure, she only needed a night to ensnare a man, but a feeding was so much more fulfilling after a week or two’s worth of luring.
She liked to start off small. A glimpse in a crowd, a smile across the room, just enough to capture their attention and make them look at her twice. Never a word spoken between them, just the weight of something promising. Then, seemingly by chance, they crossed paths again, somewhere in public, in the light of day, where words could be exchanged, maybe a touch or two, always innocent. The dreams were never vivid or lurid, but her presence was there, soft and vague, leaving them wanting for more.
By the end of it, they were so enthralled by her that they practically begged her to feed off them, either to put them out of their misery or give them everything they’d ever wanted.
Then the scarring happened, and it ruined everything.
It didn’t hurt anymore, the nerves long since dead, but as she brushed her fingers across the tissue, the memory of the knife slicing across her face burned in her mind. Her kind died for one of three reasons: starvation, exorcism, and, though it was taboo to speak of, their own hand. She’d not heard of one dying because of time, but they were loners by nature, so she rarely conversed with others.
That was the thing no one talked about – the loneliness of their existence. Their very nature required connection and intimacy with others to sustain their lives, but there was nothing true or real about it. The feedings could last an entire night, but they were still fleeting. Establishing a consistent connection with someone provided them with the strongest and best energy, but consistency also risked the chance of overfeeding.
It wasn’t uncommon for someone to die, drained of their last drop, but that could bring unwanted attention. Like many others, Utahime had favored a more recurring connection, if only because it mimicked something more real, but it was what got her in trouble in the end. When her lover inevitably died, she had to find another source to feed.
Instead, she found a Hunter, who nearly killed her.
In the end, she survived and he did not, but the scar served as a reminder to never let her guard down again. She could’ve used a glamour charm to hide it, but she didn’t, using it as a shield to protect herself. Men were still drawn to her, but the scar gave them pause and allowed her the room to breathe before she could act on her nature.
So she starved herself and survived on the barest of scraps and told herself it was okay because at least she was alive.
And then Satoru entered the picture.
She bumped into him as she was leaving the bathroom, colliding with his solid front in the small, dark hallway that led back to the main floor of the club. She would’ve fallen against the wall if he hadn’t grabbed her by the arms, his hold on her gentle but secure.
“Whoa, careful there.”
She opened her mouth to snap at him to watch where he was going – it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten prickly with a presumptuous man in this place – but then she looked up and found herself looking at his eyes for the first time. They were impossibly blue, bright even in the dark space. An amused smile tugged at his lips, like he’d thought of something funny, which only made her furrow her brow even more.
He lifted one hand off her arm and then, without speaking a word, cupped her face and trailed a thumb across the scar that lined half her face. It burned, like the nerves in the scarred tissue had never died to begin with, his touch searing her skin. Even though she’d fed the night prior on some hapless idiot just outside the club, all her urges and needs came to light.
No, not needs, wants.
She had not wanted for anything in a long time. Survival was about needing, not wanting, and the deep pangs inside of her didn’t register as hunger but something far more devastating and honest.
Desire.
Utahime ripped herself away from him, staggering until her back met the wall. “Don’t– Don’t touch me.”
“My apologies,” Satoru said, resting a hand over his heart and giving her a short bow. “I couldn’t help but wonder who dared to touch you first.”
With her heart thundering in her chest, Utahime darted out of the hallway, all but throwing herself in the thick of the club. She had to wash her body of him, and the easiest way to do that was to mingle within the crowd. On the dance floor, she allowed people to touch her, men and women alike brushing their bodies against hers, until his gentle hand on her face was nothing more than a memory.
She did her best to ignore him for the rest of the night, but as soon as she found herself at ease again, there he was, in the periphery of her vision, out of her reach. He was never looking at her, either by himself or talking to another woman, but the sensation of his blue eyes on her pricked at her mind, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand.
Utahime knew what it felt like to be wanted, but for the first time, it felt like she was being seen.
And to be seen was dangerous indeed.
*
14/10, day nine of observation
subject 018
class: succubus, threat level: minor (possible upgrade)
First contact with the subject established to determine power levels.
Originally determined to be weak due to infrequent and poor feeding, the subject has developed the ability to hide their energy, which makes it more difficult to read their strength. Though the subject fed partially on a victim the night prior, her energy levels were much higher than expected upon initial contact. This brings more questions.
- Has the subject’s moderation feeding allowed them to gain more energy from minor feedings than normal? Despite the half feeding the night prior, the subject appeared to be much healthier and returned to full strength, with flushed skin and brightened eyes.
- Is it possible that restriction from all forms of feeding has created the ability to suppress energy levels to misguide readings? At first contact, the subject’s energy rose to a shocking degree, giving cause for a re-evaluation of the threat level.
- Does the moderation and restriction of feeding change the strength of succubi’s ability? Most texts have written that a succubus will grow weak and could even die if they do not feed regularly, especially if they do not use a consistent victim, but this subject appears to be able to fast for weeks at a time and their alluring nature grows stronger even as their energy grows weaker.
Closer interaction will be required to answer these new developments. For now, exorcism will be held off and has not been deemed necessary, as the subject does not appear to be an immediate threat and danger to humans.
*
A week passed before Utahime saw Satoru again. A week to clear her mind, a week to get her shit together, a week to remind herself that she was the one in control.
She could’ve very easily feed multiple times a night – nothing too big, just little bites here and there – but she refrained, more out of pride than anything else. She didn’t need to feed all the time, not like most. Others like her couldn’t fathom the idea of restricting themselves as much as her, much less stomach it. They gorged themselves on their meals, sneaking into dreams in the night and minds during the day, eating and eating until there was nothing left.
Utahime would not do that. She was stronger than her urges, and she hated feeling like a victim to them as well. Every flutter of her heart, every pull in her gut, every throb between her legs, be it over a look or touch or something more, made her want to flip a table. It was only in her very nature, but she loathed the lack of control if nothing else.
Still, she could not gain satisfaction from herself. Touching herself would not quell the ravenous need ingrained her, so she did not let anyone touch her.
But then there was Satoru, sat at his usual table at the edge of the club’s dance floor, signature sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose and a grin on his lips.
“Do you dance?” he asked.
She handed him his drink, his third melon soda of the night. Curiously, he never drank, not even in the beginning, though she supposed it was unnecessary in his case. Unlike many of the men here, he didn’t seem to need the liquid courage to approach others – or to get what he wanted.
But she had to wonder: what did he want? Normally, she could pluck a person’s desire from their heart, twisting it to her advantage to feed on them, but Satoru was different. He didn’t seem to want for anything, not even as he looked at her. It was strange to be looked at like that, especially when everyone else’s desire for her was always so palpable.
“Sometimes,” she admitted.
His grin took on a knowing twist. “Do you like to dance?”
She loved to dance. Her kind had some sort of schtick, a gimmick if you will, to lure others in. Music had always been hers, be it dancing or singing or playing an instrument. Hand her any piece of equipment, and she could play it, her special brand of magic. There were tales woven in culture’s history, though the records were often twisted and misrepresented. In another time, in a different world, some might’ve referred to her as a siren, but those were separate altogether.
For her, music was simply a part of her being, and she’d learned to derive pleasure from it, at least when it was shared with others. After all, wasn’t the push and pull of flirtation and the consequential physical intimacy not a dance in itself?
Satoru held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
Utahime rolled her eyes as she tucked the empty drink tray underneath her arm. “This is not the place for that kind of dancing.”
“And what kind of dance is that?” Satoru asked, an amused glint in his eyes.
“You’re treating it like it’s something proper.”
“Should a man not ask a lady to dance first?”
A scoffing laugh escaped her. “This is a fresh approach, I’ll give you that.”
“Well, I only asked because you seem particularly guarded and…prickly when it comes to any man approaching you,” Satoru pointed out.
She bristled, annoyed to respond exactly how he expected. “Shouldn’t that give you a hint then?”
“But then I’ve also seen the way you watch the dance floor,” Satoru continued, “like you’re envious.”
Utahime sucked in a breath. It wasn’t envy, at least not the way someone like Satoru would imagine. She loved to dance, and she loved the way it made her feel, but it was different for her. The sway of people’s bodies, back and forth, side to side, like she was being swept out to sea. The music singing through her veins, the deep bass pumping alongside her heart. The sweaty, hot, undeniable throb of desire that flowed under it all like a current.
It threatened to overtake all her senses, and it terrified her as much as it excited her.
“Dance with me,” Satoru repeated. “Just one song.”
After eyeing him for a moment, Utahime set her tray down on the table and untied the small apron around her waist. “Fine, but only one song.”
She was overdue for a break anyway, and her boss would be elated and maybe get off her back to see her interacting so warmly with a patron.
Once she was finished, she didn’t take his hand and turned to walk onto the dance floor, with Satoru following her obediently. She still tried to avoid people as much as possible, but it was hard to do that now that they were in the thick of the crowd. Every bump and brush made her wince, not from pain or disgust, but something much worse. Only when they were in the middle did she stop, but she did not turn around to face him.
Finally, when his hands slid on her waist, just above her hips, Utahime let out a shuddering breath. It was like they belonged there, his hands slotted in place, pulling back on her just enough so that her back lined up with his front. Pleasure hummed inside her body, like a cat purring in content, but instead of fighting it, she allowed it to flow through her, in and out. As they swayed to the music, dangerously close, she could sense his energy, his very life, pulsing around her.
She didn’t take from him. Instead, she drew in the energy surrounding her. It wasn’t enough to make a noticeable difference, if only because her presence and energy heightened everything around her. Everyone seemed to grow a little more intense, a bit more desperate – hands clinging, bodies grinding, breaths gasping, lips seeking. It wasn’t an open display of debauchery, but it came close to indecent, the temperature rising.
Through it all, she could feel Satoru, alive and strong. His energy burned like a fire, whipping her own up into a storm. As the dance grew more intense, his grip on her tightened, and her eyes fluttered open in shock at the obvious press of his arousal against her. Aside from that though, he didn’t move for more, keeping his hands on her waist even as she wished he would touch her more. Maybe his large hands on her chest, or, even more damning, his fingers dipping between her legs.
She was breathing heavily, not from the exertion of their dance but the building of energy around them. Greedily, she drank in more than usual, allowing herself the pleasure and taking what she normally denied herself. It wasn’t a lot, but enough to make her vision go cloudy in a pink haze. One of his hands finally moved from her waist, slotting itself underneath her chin to tilt her head back to rest against his chest. His fingers pressed into her throat, and she had to bite back a whine.
“That’s enough,” he murmured.
Utahime blinked, awareness creeping in between the cracks of her pleasure, but before she could register fully what he said, the song came to an end and another began.
Satoru let go of her and took a step back, leaving her reeling in the wake of his absence. “Only one song, remember?”
And then he was gone, walking off the dance floor and vanishing into the depths of the club. It was only later, in the quiet hours of the night as she closed the bar, that Utahime realized the sensation burning in her gut wasn’t disappointment over his sudden disappearance.
It was the anticipation for something more, for a meal that would do more than feed her.
*
21/10, day sixteen of observation
subject 018
class: succubus, threat level: moderate
Second contact with the subject further strengthens suspicions about the succubi's ability, though it is uncertain whether it pertains to only this subject or others as well.
Subject is not only able to feed from others without direct contact, but also monitor the energy levels they take, even in the midst of a feeding that would put others in a frenzy. This high level of control over their feedings, energy, and abilities makes them more of a threat. Even when presented with a willing victim with vital energy, the subject refrained from feeding directly.
There are very few records of succubi having such control over themselves. Most records show that succubi are only able to feed from one victim at a time, once physical and intimate contact has been established. The subject, however, is able to draw the life force and energy of those around her, as long as certain conditions are met. Is this ability due to her extreme restraints around feeding?
A bond has also been established. There is a chance for the experiment to backfire, as others have warned. If the records are to be believed, only succubus are able to create and complete a bond between them and their victim. The succubus takes, and the victims give. However, a bond is meant to go both ways. Could a victim, if more dominant, take from the succubus or even control the bond? Succubi are the embodiment of want, and their power derives from their victims’ desires for them. Can a succubus be made to become dependent on a victim? Who then is in control?
Threat level adjusted to moderate. Though the subject still appears to be uninterested in growing her abilities and prefers to keep to herself, there is a possibility of danger if the subject were to feel threatened or get too strong. Intervention may be required sooner rather than later to prevent injury, but exorcism may be halted to conduct more observations and gain insight into new abilities.
*
Utahime had survived as long as she had in this crooked world because she was, above all else, in control of her nature. Even when she was livelier and more energized, she was prone to err on the side of caution, taking lovers that would not be missed as much. Men on the outskirts of society, men who had hurt women, men who she would not feel any shame or guilt over for feeding off their energy.
She inwardly laughed at their pitiful forms. For all the hurt they’d caused, these men needed her until their dying breaths, giving her everything until there was nothing left for her to take. The wounds they left on the world eventually healed over as they faded into non-existence. Even the Hunter she’d killed had been a terrible man, not just because he’d sought to exorcise her.
So, it was only inevitable that a good man was her downfall.
Though she had taken on consistent lovers to feed on throughout her time, no one had ever snagged her attention like Satoru had. On the nights when he didn’t show up at the club, she found herself longing for him, searching for his face and white hair in the crowd. On the nights when he did appear, sitting at his usual table like a ghost, she scowled furiously at the fluttering of her heart.
She wanted him, but it was very unlike her to want anything. Normally, it was the other way around, to be the object of pure desire and not the desirer herself. It was both disconcerting and thrilling.
The first time she fed off him, just a tiny bit, made her feel drunk with power. His hand snaking up her nape until his fingers were buried in her hair, her face tucked in the crook of his neck. She didn’t dare kiss him properly, but she allowed him to pin her against a wall as she pressed open-mouth kisses against his throat. She whimpered, ever so slightly, as she dipped her fingers into his energy and he shuddered, like he was spoon feeding her.
He always stepped away first, giving her room to gather herself and wrap herself in a wool of restraint, but he stopped leaving. Leading her on a string throughout the night until she found herself back to him, one way or another. After that near disaster, she stopped altogether, closing herself off from everyone, refusing to feed off even a hint of energy, but that didn’t stop him from seeking her out.
One of her colleagues, an innocent girl, asked if they were dating. Utahime snorted, but then, Satoru was behind her, his hand burning through her shirt on the small of her back.
“Utahime is not that easily captured,” he’d teased, voice full of laughter – and a tinge of something else, something darker that had her skin prickling with goosebumps.
She knew she should feed off someone else – find a different man, a safer one, a weaker one who she could bully and leave to recover shakily after they came in their pants after barely touching her. Sometimes, they remembered her vaguely, though they were too embarrassed to try anything again. There was a reason she never went for the men who outwardly wanted and flirted with her. Other times, she was little more than a dream to them, a passing fantasy they believed would never happen.
It would take her absolutely nothing to draw another man into her orbit and feed off them, if only to sate this ravenous desire that was plaguing her, but she couldn’t. Every time she got close to picking someone, it was like he could sense it, and he would appear. He wasn’t just distracting; his presence seemed to demand her attention.
She wanted him, and she needed him to want her too.
Satoru found her at the end of the bar nursing a beer, an empty shot glass in front of her. “Already off?”
“Not feeling well,” Utahime said, trying to avoid his eyes. He’d taken his sunglasses off, but she wished he’d put them back on. It was easier to ignore him that way.
“And drinking will help?”
It would at least help her dim the world around her. When she started abstaining for long periods of time, she’d learned that alcohol dulled her senses. It made it easier for her to ignore her urges, drowning her hunger with alcohol instead. She wasn’t as desperate as she was back then, but sometimes, a good buzz was all she needed to lighten the pulse of energy, and she needed everything in her arsenal to ignore Satoru right now.
Nonetheless, he wasn’t taking it, so when she decided to crawl out of the bar with her tail tucked between her legs, she took him up on his offer to walk her to her car. A moment of weakness, if anything, because she selfishly wanted to see him outside of the club. Would he be different in the fresh air? With the stars above them in the night sky and the silence that followed the thud of muffled music?
What kind of man was Satoru outside of the dark?
The most dangerous kind, as it turned out.
“You know, I didn’t expect you to come to me willingly, not when you’re the most stubborn succubus I’ve ever found, but I can’t deny that I’m pleased.”
Utahime stopped in the middle of the parking lot, a chill rushing down her spine, but before she could flee or attack, she felt a prick at her neck, a needle piercing the vulnerable skin, and then everything went dark.
*
30/10, day twenty-four of observation
subject 018
class: succubus, threat level: moderate
Subject has been captured and detained for closer evaluation. Proper wards have been put in place, along with other bindings. Imprisonment is secure and cannot be destroyed or taken off by the subject, so that the subject cannot use their abilities as long as the binding is still around their neck. Energy levels are low, almost unregistered, but this is likely due to being unconscious.
Once the subject awakens, the next stage of observation is to be conducted, with additional experiments.
She is not what was expected when this observation began, unlike any other succubi encountered, but considering the strength of the Hunter she killed, she is not to be taken lightly. If there is a threat of escape, she will be exorcised, but I believe she can be of great use and provide insight to her kind and other demonic creatures like her.
If we can learn to control them, we might find another way to win this eternal battle against evil.
*
“Ah, there’s my girl. Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”
Utahime groaned, blinking against the dim lighting of the room. She stirred on the cold, hard ground, only to realize that her ankles and wrists were bound. “What…?”
“Can’t be too careful, even if you have shown remarkable restraint for a succubus.”
Fear washed over her like a bucket of ice water. Utahime bolted upright as fast as her restrained body allowed her, only to nearly fall over when a wave of weakness crashed into her. It wasn’t just because of her lack of feeding either. It took her a moment to register her surroundings, taking in the wards written into the wall and ground, and then another to realize there was a chain wrapped around her neck, like a dog collar.
“What the fuck?” she snarled.
“Sorry for the rude awakening. I was just too eager to be with you again.”
Sitting in front of her on a chair, his legs spread wide and his elbows perched on his knees, was Satoru. He wore an amused grin on his face, the same one from before, letting her know that the man inside the club was not too different from the man outside of it. Except now, in a different lighting, she saw it for what it was.
Predatory, wolfish, sharp.
He was a Hunter, and she’d fallen for his trap.
“You know, succubi are known for their beauty – it’s half their charm to lure in victims – but I’ve never met one that could be described as pretty as much as you.” Satoru tilted his head in the palm of his hand as he surveyed her. “Your energy readings were so low that I almost didn’t see you. I assumed you were simply weak until I realized you were hiding them on purpose. How do you manage to do that?”
Utahime shook in her restraints. “Fuck you.”
Satoru chuckled. “I’m sure you wish you could.”
“As if,” she spat out.
“You’re such a conundrum for a succubus,” Satoru noted. “Seriously, I’ve never met one like you. What kind of succubus doesn’t like to be touched?” She opened her mouth to spew more profanity at him, but then he cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, tilting her head back slightly, and her heart shot into her throat. “Mm, you do like to be touched though, don’t you? It just has to be the right person. I didn’t know succubus could be picky. But maybe the right person changes the amount of power you can derive from feeding off them.”
“I don’t–” Utahime clamped her mouth shut, glaring at him petulantly. Truth be told, she didn’t know. She’d never questioned the mechanics of her being and nature, only begrudged the fact that she was chained by them.
Yet here she was now, quite literally chained in a hunter’s basement because of her own weakness.
“We’re going to spend a lot of time together, Hime. I think we can learn something new.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not going to exorcise me?”
“No, not yet.” Satoru stroked her jaw with his thumb. “Maybe you’ve sunk your claws into me as well, but I’m not willing to let go of you yet.”
His blue eyes, so bright and clear, flickered down, then slowly roved up her entire body. The look sent another chill down her spine. She recognized that look, but this time, she realized how dangerous it was.
Wanting.
And she was helpless to it and him.