Chapter 15: The Mother of all Succubi
The peace was a physical thing, a cool, silent balm Theo hadn’t realized he’d been craving. For three days, he’d existed in a warm, sticky haze, perpetually smothered by the impossible softness of Giana or the demanding heat of Lily. His body ached in new, profound ways. His senses were saturated with the smell of sex and vanilla candles and a peculiar, metallic sweetness that was uniquely Lily.
The forest path at night was a sanctuary. The crunch of pine needles under his sneakers was the only sound. He breathed in the clean decay of leaves, the damp earth, feeling the knot between his shoulders—a knot born from the constant, wonderful strain of holding up Giana’s head as she napped on his chest—finally begin to loosen.
He thought of his manga, left untouched under his bed. The fantasies there seemed quaint now, laughably sterile. He rounded a familiar bend, the place where the old oak’s roots twisted across the path like gnarled fingers. This was where it had started. Where he’d seen the glow, heard the chanting.
His moment of reflection was obliterated by a force that drove every molecule of air from his lungs.
One second he was walking; the next, he was airborne, a strangled oof ripped from his throat. He hit the ground with a brutal thud, his glasses flying into the underbrush, the world blurring into a smear of dark greens and browns. Pain exploded across his ribs.
“Where is she, you limp-dick little maggot?”
The voice was a hammer of sound, lower and rougher than Lily’s, but vibrating with the same unnatural resonance. Theo rolled onto his back, wheezing, his vision swimming. A shape loomed over him, blotting out the patchy moonlight.
At first, he thought it was Lily. The silhouette was a curve of catastrophic proportions, a parody of the female form. But as his eyes adjusted, the details sharpened. This was Lily, amplified and aged with a terrifying potency. The woman had the same cascade of red and black hair, but it was streaked with silver, piled in a messy, elegant knot. Her face was a sharper, more severe version of Lily’s, with lines of fury and experience carved around a mouth currently twisted in a snarl. Her eyes weren’t just cold; they were ancient, black pits simmering with rage.
And her body… it defied the physics of the forest, of reality itself. Her breasts were colossal, straining against a silk blouse that was barely a formality, each one a pendulous, veined planet of flesh that rested on the shelf of her stomach. Her waist nipped in before flaring out to hips that seemed as wide as Theo was tall, supporting an ass that was less a pair of buttocks and more a tectonic shelf of jiggling fat, threatening to split the seams of her tight pencil skirt. She was a monument of swollen, ripe flesh, and she radiated a predatory energy that made Lily seem like a playful kitten.
“I said,” she growled, placing a stiletto heel dangerously close to his crotch, “where is my daughter? My Lilith. My perfect, busty, fuck-happy angel. Who the hell are you, and why do you stink of her binding?”
Theo tried to speak, but only a rasp came out. He scrabbled backwards, his hands finding his glasses, one lens cracked. He shoved them on. “I—I didn’t—she was trapped, the priest—”
“A priest?” The woman’s fury seemed to momentarily stutter, replaced by a blistering incredulity. She threw her head back and let out a laugh that sounded like gravel rattling in a tin can. “A priest? That dumb bitch got herself snared by some wine-soaked choirboy? I taught her to sense a crucifix from a mile away!” She looked back down at Theo, her mirth vanishing as fast as it came, replaced by molten anger. “And you. You pathetic, scrawny, virgin-blooded twig. You’re the one who bound her? This is what she’s anchored to?”
She leaned down, and the sheer mass of her cleavage threatened to engulf his entire head. The scent of her was overwhelming—expensive perfume undercut by the same dark, spicy musk Lily had, but deeper, more potent, like incense in a tomb. “Let me smell you properly.”
Her hand, strong and manicured, clamped on his jaw. She yanked him forward, burying his face into the crushing valley of her breasts. It wasn’t a seduction. It was an inspection. She inhaled deeply against the top of his head.
“Ugh. Textbook. The desperate, lonely stink of a virgin. The metallic tang of a blood-offering—my blood, you little thief!” She shook him, his teeth rattling. “And… and what is this? Milk? Vanilla? Some other cow?” She shoved him back to the ground in disgust. “She’s not only bound to a walking hard-on with the backbone of a noodle, she’s sharing him? Has she lost her fucking mind?”
She straightened up, looking around the dark forest as if it personally offended her. “And now my daughter, a creature of exquisite appetite, is leashed to this… this bundle of anxiety and comic books. I can feel the bond. It’s weak, pathetic, like a piece of wet string. But it’s there.” Her gaze returned to him, and a new, horrifying thought seemed to dawn. A slow, cruel smile spread across her lips. “Unless I sever it.”
“Break the tether. It’s simple.” She took a step closer, her shadow consuming him. “If the source of the binding blood is gone, the bond starves. Dies. She’d be free.” Her tongue, pointed and slightly too long, wet her lips. “I haven’t drained a virgin dry in centuries. The purity is so… rich. It’s like a delicacy. And after the disappointment of finding out what my daughter has tied herself to, I think I deserve a treat.”
She knelt, one knee on either side of his hips, her immense weight settling onto his thighs, pinning him utterly. The forest air vanished, replaced by her oppressive heat and scent. Her hands, hot as brands, pushed up his graphic tee, nails scraping his pale skin. She leaned down, her breath hot on his neck.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, the promise viscous and dark. “It’ll feel amazing. Right up until your heart stops. Then I’ll go find my wayward girl and give her the spanking of her eternal life.”