“What of my suffering, Sarnessa?” Nyte demanded. The room darkened around him.
With a sigh, she flicked a hand in the air carelessly. “Your pain was a fleeting thing, and it’s not like you even need a heart. That little sacrifice from you kept me sated for a century, Nyte.”
When she came close enough, she reached for him. Scorching, disconcerting heat flared on Nyte’s skin, and he teleported to the far side of the room before she could make contact.
“You do not get to touch me,” Nyte growled.
Sarnessa turned her face toward him with a predatory glint in her eyes and a shark’s smile on her face, displaying her sharp teeth. She cocked her hip, ensuring the pose accentuated her backside before she forced another pout onto her lips. “We’re lovers, my beautiful nocturnus. Lovers are meant to take care of each other. Why can’t you see that’s what you did? But you fled from me and hid yourself away before I could ever explain. Before I could thank you.”
How had he not seen through it before? How had he been so naïve, so foolish? From the beginning, Sarnessa had only sought to satisfy her own desires, her own needs. She’d spoken words of praise and caring, had talked as though she would’ve moved the world for him…but what had she ever done?
She was a black hole, devouring everything that came near, taking, taking, taking, and giving nothing in return.
The bathroom door opened. Nyte snapped his face toward Ember, who stepped out with her dry hair loose around her shoulders and a towel wrapped around her curvy body. She halted abruptly and gasped as her eyes locked on Sarnessa.
Ember’s surprised expression was quickly overcome by a glaring scowl. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m assuming this is the infamous succubitch?”
Without thought, Nyte turned insubstantial and whisked himself to Ember, reforming with his body between her and Sarnessa, hands to his sides with claws splayed.
The succubus arched a slender brow, and the corner of her mouth rose in a smirk as she chuckled. “See, Nyte? You can’t tell me there’s nothing between us when you clearly can’t stop talking about me, even to lowly mortals.”
“Oh, get over yourself,” Ember said. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes.
Sarnessa’s eyes narrowed at Ember, but her gaze flicked back to Nyte, her beguiling smile returning. “Don’t let a single moment destroy what we had. Don’t you remember how I made you feel? Don’t you remember everything we shared?”
Running the tips of her claws over her breast and down her belly, she slowly sashayed toward him. Her fingers trailed lower and lower toward her cunt, where her exposed inner labia was swollen with lust. She lightly caressed the folds. “I have missed your touch, my Nyte. I havecravedit. Especially that wicked, wicked tongue. Do you remember the taste of me?”
Her scent strengthened, and Nyte felt the magic in it, felt its warm caress against his skin, felt it subtly trying to push deeper into him. His mind reeled under the silent assault. Another thing he’d failed to notice, failed to consider—Sarnessa was a succubus, and her fragrance was an aphrodisiac. How much of his desire for her had ever been his own?
“Ugh. It’s pretty pathetic how desperate you are,” Ember said. “You reek of it.”
Sarnessa halted with a disgusted scoff. “Would you put this mortal bitch in her place and muzzle her already? Her yipping is distracting.”
Ember stepped beside Nyte and jabbed a finger at the demoness. “The only bitch in here is you, and you’re acting like you’re in heat. I swear, if you drip anything on my floor…”
Nyte put his arm out, barring Ember’s way, though he couldn’t stop himself from snickering.
Sarnessa’s jaw dropped, disbelief in her eyes. “You laugh?”
“You should be thankful I’ve done nothing more than that. It is well past time for you leave, Sarnessa.”
Glowering, she aggressively gestured at Ember. “Surely you haven’t been bespelled by this witch.” Her black eyes roamed over Nyte, and then she laughed. “You are! She bound you to her. And you thoughtIwas cruel for taking your heart? At least I didn’t entrap you.”
Nyte bared his fangs, one wing spreading wide while the other curled around Ember from behind. “You will not speak of her. I should gouge out your eyes for merely looking upon her.”
Sarnessa’s pheromones strengthened, growing potent and heady, shedding all pretense of subtlety as they battered his mind and threatened to overcome his senses. Nyte shook his head. The room around him seemed to waver, and a crimson haze crept into the edges of his vision. He staggered, resisting that overwhelming, insidious influence, but the succubus’s attack was unrelenting.
The demoness smiled, her gaze holding his as she closed the remaining distance between them and reached out a hand as though to caress his cheek. “My Ny?—”
Ember shoved Nyte’s arm down, positioned herself in frontof him—directly in Sarnessa’s path—and slapped the demoness’s hand away. “Back. The fuck. Up.”
Sarnessa gasped, her eyes widening, and for an instant, her mask fell away. All that smugness, that sultry self-assurance, vanished, leaving only genuine shock.
Nyte breathed in. Another scent filled his nose, cutting through Sarnessa’s, diluting it, overpowering it. Infinitely sweeter, purer, and more alluring. Fresh gardenia, warm vanilla, and something wholly feminine and unique. Ember’s scent.
That fragrance forced back some of the blood red cloud encroaching on Nyte’s consciousness. Clutching his head between his hands, he turned all his focus toward Ember’s fragrance. Toward breaking free of the succubus’s charm.
Sarnessa recovered quickly. Her features twisted, becoming vicious, vile, and vindictive—the first time he’d seen the cruelty and selfishness at her core reflected upon her face. She drew her arm back, claws poised to strike.
