Page 5 of Sins of the Succubus
But there's something else about her, something that goes beyond mere physical beauty. Invisible to these drunken fools but clear as day to my demonic senses.
"Who's that?" I ask, grabbing the arm of a passing patron.
The elf sneers. "That's Neela. The owner's wife. Quite the piece of ass, ain't she?"
I release him, my gaze never leaving the woman. There's something... different about her. Something that sets her apart from the other pathetic mortals in this cesspool.
I settle into a corner booth, observing Neela throughout the night. Her beauty is undeniable, even by elven standards. But it'smore than that. There's a depth to her, a complexity that I can't quite place.
As she passes my table, I catch a whiff of her scent. It's intoxicating, laced with something... familiar. Something that shouldn't be there.
"Ale," I growl as she approaches.
Neela nods, her eyes never quite meeting mine. "Right away, sir."
When she returns with my drink, I reach out to take it from her. Our fingers brush together. She flinches, and I can feel the fear coursing through her. But beneath that... there's power. Raw, untapped potential.
I lean back in my chair, the cheap wood creaking under my weight. The ale sits untouched before me, a prop in this mortal charade. My eyes follow Neela as she weaves through the crowd, her movements a dance of grace and resignation.
"Fascinating," I mutter, drumming my fingers on the sticky table.
A drunken elf stumbles past, nearly spilling his drink on me. I shoot him a glare that sends him scurrying away, whimpering like a beaten cur.
Neela glides by again, her tray laden with drinks. Her gaze skims over me, unseeing. To her, I'm just another face in the crowd. But there's something about her, something that tugs at the edges of my consciousness.
I catch snippets of conversation as patrons call out to her.
"Hey, sweetheart, how about a little private show?"
"Neela, darling, come sit on daddy's lap!"
She deflects their advances with practiced ease, her smile never reaching her eyes. But beneath the facade, I sense a storm brewing. The despair rolls off her in waves, intoxicating and familiar.
"What are you hiding, little one?" I wonder aloud, my voice lost in the din of the tavern.
A boisterous group enters, drawing Neela's attention. I watch as she tenses, her knuckles white around her tray. The leader of the group, a dark elf with a cruel smirk, reaches out and grabs her ass.
"There's my favorite little plaything," he leers.
Neela's smile falters for a moment, and I catch a glimpse of something... darker. A flash of power that's gone as quickly as it appeared.
"Welcome back, sir," she says, her voice steady despite the tremor I detect beneath. "Your usual table?"
As she leads them away, I narrow my eyes. There's more to this human than meets the eye. The despair that drew me here is only part of the puzzle. Beneath it all, there's a wellspring of untapped potential.
I settle in for a long night of observation. The mystery of Neela has piqued my interest, and I intend to unravel it, thread by tantalizing thread.
4
NEELA
The air in the bar shifts, a palpable tension seeping into every corner. I can feel it in my bones, an electric current that sets my nerves on edge. Something's different tonight.
I'm wiping down a table, my movements mechanical and practiced, when I catch snippets of hushed conversation from a group of regulars huddled in the corner. Their voices are low, but in the din of the bar, they carry just far enough for me to hear.
"Did you see him come in?" A naga whispers, his forked tongue flicking nervously. I can't help but notice how his scales shimmer in the dim light, betraying his agitation.
"Who?" His orc companion grunts, taking a swig from his tankard. The smell of ale wafts over, mingling with the ever-present stench of sweat and desperation that permeates this place.