He was vastly more pleasant than either previous master-almost disturbingly so. Lorelei had spent an eternity dodging the attention of those who ruled her, doing her best to stay at arm’s length and only grudgingly responding to a summons. She despised herself for that obedience. She hated the way she responded to her master’s touch, yet couldn’t resist. Now she wanted to goad this new, mortal, simple man into taking advantage of that.
She, too, wanted to be friends. More than friends.
“‘Abashed, the Devil stood,’” Lorelei mused aloud.
For a second time, she shook herself. She still hungered for him, but her hunger typically lasted until she had vanquished a partner. That wouldn’t be happening here. Perhaps she’d just have to get used to being satisfied only while making lo-No. Servicing him. Let’s not get carried away with this. There is sorcery at work.
I should have realized the ritual wasn’t fully complete, she thought bitterly. I knew I could make more mischief. Push these boundaries further. Perhaps broken free…though to what end?
She looked down at him again, feeling a need through her center and through every limb to wake him and continue their night together. She had long recognized the sensual triggers within her body that ensured her loyalty to her masters. Alex unwittingly pulled on all that, but he brought more. Her reactions held an undeniable emotional quality.
He was so unlike anyone she’d ever lain with, mortal or otherwise. He lusted for her, of course, but she also felt warmth and compassion. Could she possibly, somehow, after all this time and all her deeds, deserve such things?
Madness. She crushed out such thoughts, turning away from him.
He had the will to resist. Any previous partner would have let her ride him until he passed out. Alex had actually asked her to let him sleep enough to be rested for the next day, and clearly didn’t intend to stay home with her.
That self-control was astounding. Alex enjoyed letting Lorelei take the lead. He liked being pursued instead of pursuing, especially after such a haphazard history of dating. His desires tended toward strong women, for obvious reasons-not exclusively, but the preference stood out. He had it in him to be the aggressor and the seducer in different circumstances. Lorelei saw much she could play with.
But what was so ominously clear to her was that he would only be led so much. He would be happily teased and manipulated until something genuinely bothered him, and then it would end. Her plots would only move as long as they respected his real boundaries. Alex, unlike any prey before him, could say no and mean it.
Frowning, Lorelei glanced around his room. Seeing in the dark was no challenge at all for a demon. She should have investigated the house yesterday, but fatigue from her abduction had overcome her and she’d put it off. Lorelei looked over his bookshelf and other belongings, which indicated interests that tended toward larger-than-life adventure and matters far beyond his small world. He wouldn’t want to remain in his hometown forever.
On his desk sat a picture of his high school swim team, which included several girls forever burned into his desires. She could use that.
His shelves held an eclectic collection of music, but his discs and scattered ticket stubs revealed a preference for live rock. Posters of bands and ordinary teen interests adorned the walls… but ordinary teens didn’t have so many philosophy books.
She found his class schedule. Only a year into his college life, he still had mostly “intro” classes: Intro to Literature. Intro to Biology. Philosophy. Human Sexuality. No wonder he’s so screwed up, she thought.
Intro to Photography.
Her heart jumped. So insignificant a thing. Just a class at a community college. How different her world would be if Alex hadn’t, probably on a whim, taken Introduction to Photography.
There was so much more to know, and so much more that he would want to know about her. He wouldn’t like it. There was so very little for a good man to like. The thought gave her a small pang of despair.
Lorelei considered slipping out, but saw no great need. What she wanted lay right in front of her. Merely being with him felt good, and the succubae were nothing if not hedonistic. She slipped into the bed, curling up beside him in the hopes of banishing ominous thoughts and unpleasant memories. Her hopes went unfulfilled.
* * *
The pounding on the door and demands for Malik to rise had ended hours ago. Screams and crashes and the sounds of slaughter replaced it, but Lorelei had paid it no mind. Her work had been too close to completion to worry about such things.
She felt, as always, the final, overwhelming shudder of pleasure when her prey expired. As usual, it arrived while she rode him, slapping away his feeble, fatigued attempts to push her off before the end. Lorelei remained still for a good while, oblivious to shouts and the clanging of swords separated from her only by brick and mortar.
She hated this man, indeed hated all her “lovers,” but at least they always gave her this. Whatever her feelings, this moment always rewarded her efforts.
Once Malik’s soul finally passed through her on its way to Hell, Lorelei rose from the bed and took up a robe. Her proud wings stretched out, completely unhindered by the fabric. An onlooker might have thought either the wings or the robe were illusions, for how could one solid thing merely pass through another in such a way? Only practitioners of magic could see them, though, and Lorelei had not encountered any such mortals in Antioch.
She wanted to wash. That was always her first instinct when the deed was done and the pleasure faded. Lorelei left the room without a second glance, clad only in the robe. She ignored the jewelry, the dresses, all of it. She needed none of it and wanted it even less.
A Turk died at her feet as she opened the door, thrown down by a pair of Franks who descended upon him with bloodied blades. She waited patiently until they moved out of her way. Neither man paid her any notice. Lorelei threw the robe’s hood up over her head. It was easier to go unnoticed when one was genuinely inconspicuous. She calmly slipped through corridors and streets filled with pillage, rapine and much worse.
A small well sat not far away. It waited just around the corner, beyond the three bearded Crusaders arguing over a dead man’s belongings. Lorelei walked calmly around them, remaining unnoticed by mortal warriors…
…yet not by one of her own. They smelled one another in nearly the same instant. Lorelei immediately resigned herself to the encounter as the blonde woman at the well looked up.
She was dressed as a Frankish noble woman on a long journey, and clearly she had been. Any ordinary woman would have had no place in a city on its first night of pillage, but an ordinary woman wouldn’t have a demon’s wings and tail, either.
The blonde stood near a bucket sitting on the edge of the well. From it she drew a gold necklace and a dagger. The blood hadn’t entirely come off either trinket yet.
“Lydia,” said Lorelei flatly, acknowledging the other succubus with a curt nod.
The blonde’s face split into a predatory grin that touched her eyes and even her horns. “Lorelei,” she sang out. “What a pleasant surprise!”
“Isn’t it,” Lorelei deadpanned.
“You look radiant under that ragged blanket,” Lydia said. “Burlap suits you.” The succubus leaned in just a touch and inhaled deeply. “And you smell of a fresh triumph.”
“You smell of several,” Lorelei shrugged. The statement carried no admiration.