Page 8 of Sins of the Succubus

Neela's shoulders sag, the fire in her eyes dimming. She turns, catching my gaze. For a moment, the world falls away. Those eyes... they're not just beautiful, they're irresistible.

I watch as Neela approaches, her steps graceful despite the weight of despair hanging on her shoulders. Fuck, she's even more captivating up close. Those feline eyes draw me in, threatening to unravel my carefully crafted disguise.

"Welcome to our humble establishment," she says, her voice a low, melodious purr. "I'm Neela. Is there anything I can do for you tonight?"

The double meaning in her words isn't lost on me. Images of what I'd like her to do flash through my mind, but I push them aside. There's more to this woman than meets the eye, and I'm determined to uncover her secrets.

I clear my throat, suddenly aware of how unused to casual conversation I am. "Neela," I repeat, savoring the name on my tongue. "A fitting name for one so... intriguing."

She raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Intriguing? That's a new one. Most patrons aren't quite so... eloquent."

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. "I'm not most patrons."

"No," she agrees, her gaze sweeping over me. "You're certainly not."

The air between us crackles with tension. I struggle to find the right words, cursing my lack of practice in mortal interactions.

"Perhaps you'd care to join me for a drink?" I finally manage, gesturing to the empty seat across from me.

Neela hesitates, her eyes darting to where her husband had disappeared. "I... I'm not sure that would be wise."

"Afraid of your keeper?" I taunt, immediately regretting my words as her face hardens.

"You don't know anything about me," she snaps, turning to leave.

Shit. I reach out, careful not to touch her. "Wait. I apologize. That was... uncalled for."

She pauses, surprise evident on her face. "Did you just... apologize?"

I shrug, uncomfortable with the admission of fault. "Don't get used to it. Now, about that drink?"

I watch as Neela's eyes dart between me and the drink I've offered. She's like a cornered shadowcat, all grace and danger, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

"I appreciate the offer, but I can't sit," she says, her voice low and cautious.

I lean back, crossing my arms. "And why the fuck not?"

She shifts her weight, uncomfortable. "It's not allowed. I'm… not allowed to sit."

A growl rumbles in my chest. "Darling, I don't give a fuck what's allowed. Sit down."

Neela's eyes widen, a mix of surprise and... is that interest? She hesitates for a moment, then slowly lowers herself into the chair across from me.

"You're not like the others," she murmurs, her gaze locked on mine.

I grunt. "Obviously. Don't insult me."

As we talk, I feel something unexpected stirring within me. It's not just her beauty or the intoxicating despair that drew me here. There's a spark in her, a fire that refuses to be extinguished despite the hell she's endured.

"Tell me, Neela," I say, leaning forward. "What do you want out of life?"

She laughs, a bitter sound. "Want? I stopped wanting things a long time ago."

"Bullshit," I counter. "Everyone wants something. Even if it's just to survive another day."

Neela's eyes flash, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the strength hidden beneath her fragile exterior. "Fine. I want freedom. I want to never feel another man's unwanted hands on me. I want..." She trails off, shaking her head.

"Go on," I urge. I can sense it. Her anger. Her fury. And it's delicious.