Night fell over the Hidden Grove like a velvet curtain, heavy and warm. The nymphs had withdrawn to their private glades, leaving Elara and Thorne alone in a small bower of woven willow branches and soft moss. A ring of glowing flowers cast a gentle crimson light—Lirael's parting gift—keeping the wards strong and the darkness at bay.
Elara lay curled against Thorne's broad chest, his furred arm draped possessively over her waist. His breathing was deep and even, the steady thrum of his werewolf heart lulling her toward sleep. The day's pleasures still lingered in her body: the sweet ache between her thighs, the faint bruises shaped like fingerprints on her hips, the lingering taste of nectar on her tongue. She felt sated, powerful… and yet restless.
The Crimson Lust stirred beneath her skin, a low, constant hum. It wanted more. Always more.
She slipped from Thorne's arms without waking him and padded naked to the edge of the lagoon. Moonlight—ordinary silver tonight, not the intoxicating red of the Blood Moon—rippled across the water. Elara sat on a smooth boulder, trailing her fingers through the cool surface, watching the reflections fracture and reform.
Sleep, she told herself. Tomorrow they would follow the newly revealed paths deeper into the wilds, farther from the Church's reach. She needed rest.
But the moment her eyes closed, the dream took her.
She stood in a vast chamber of black marble veined with crimson, lit by floating orbs of scarlet fire. Chains of shadow hung from the ceiling like vines, and the air was thick with the scent of jasmine, smoke, and something darker—arousal so potent it made her knees weak.
A laugh echoed, low and feminine, curling around her like silk rope.
"Finally."
The succubus stepped from the shadows.
She was breathtaking: skin the color of fresh cream kissed by firelight, long ebony hair cascading over full breasts tipped with dark rose nipples. Curved horns swept back from her forehead; a sinuous tail flicked lazily behind her, ending in a heart-shaped spade. Leathery wings folded against her back, and her eyes glowed with molten gold.
She wore nothing but a smile and a collar of black leather studded with tiny rubies that pulsed in time with Elara's heartbeat.
"You've been calling to me, little moon-child," the succubus purred, circling slowly. "Every time you come. Every time you bleed. I taste it from across the veil."
Elara's mouth went dry. "This is a dream."
"Dreams are doorways." The succubus stopped behind her, breath warm against Elara's ear. Clawed fingers traced the glowing filigree along her collarbones, making the Crimson Lust flare hot and urgent. "And you, sweet thing, have left yours wide open."
A tail slipped between Elara's thighs from behind, the spade tip teasing her clit with feather-light strokes. Elara gasped, legs trembling.
"I could drain you dry," the succubus whispered, nipping her earlobe. "Suck every drop of that delicious power until you're nothing but a hollow husk begging for more. Succubi have done worse to less."
Elara's pulse raced, but anger sparked alongside the fear. "Try it," she said, voice steady despite the slick heat building between her legs. "See how far you get."
The succubus laughed again, delighted. "Oh, I like you."
She spun Elara around and kissed her—hard, claiming, tongue sliding deep with the taste of sin and honey. Elara moaned into the kiss, hands rising instinctively to clutch at the demon's horns. The tail pressed harder, parting her folds, the spade tip circling her entrance before pushing inside with slow, deliberate pressure.
Elara cried out, hips bucking. The tail was thick, ridged, alive with demonic heat. It filled her perfectly, curling to stroke that secret spot inside while the spade vibrated against her walls.
The succubus broke the kiss, gold eyes gleaming. "But I'm not here to break you, moon-child. I'm here to play."
Shadowy chains descended, wrapping gently around Elara's wrists and ankles, spreading her wide and suspending her a few feet off the ground. She hung helpless, exposed, every inch of her skin tingling as the succubus stepped back to admire her handiwork.
"Beautiful," the demon murmured.
She summoned toys from thin air—implements of polished obsidian and crimson glass, some ridged, some beaded, some glowing with infernal runes. The first was a slender wand that she trailed teasingly over Elara's nipples until they ached, then lower, circling her clit without quite touching.
Elara whimpered, straining against the chains.
"Beg," the succubus commanded softly.
"Please," Elara gasped. "Touch me."
A flick of the demon's wrist, and the wand pressed inside her alongside the tail—stretching her, filling her completely. It began to vibrate, slow at first, then faster, matching the rhythm of the tail's thrusts.
The succubus knelt, mouth closing over Elara's clit, sucking hard while her tail and wand fucked her in perfect unison. Claws dug into Elara's thighs, holding her open as the demon devoured her with single-minded focus.
The orgasm built like a storm, coiling tighter and tighter until Elara was sobbing, head thrown back, body arching in the chains. When it broke, it was cataclysmic—pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, Crimson Lust exploding outward in waves that shook the dream-chamber.
The succubus drank it greedily, moaning against her flesh, wings flaring wide.
But Elara was not finished.
As the aftershocks still rippled through her, she seized the dream with her will. The Crimson Lust responded, surging up like a tidal wave. The chains reversed—snapping around the succubus's wrists instead, yanking her arms above her head. The tail and wand dissolved into smoke.
The succubus's eyes widened in genuine surprise, then narrowed with dark delight.
"Well," she breathed. "The kitten has claws."
Elara dropped to the ground, stalking forward. "My turn."
She pushed the succubus down onto a conjured bed of black silk, straddling her hips. The demon's tail lashed excitedly as Elara pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other trailing down the demon's body to cup a heavy breast, pinching the nipple hard.
The succubus arched with a hiss of pleasure.
Elara summoned her own implements—crimson vines of pure Lust magic that wrapped around the demon's thighs, spreading her wide. Another vine teased the succubus's slick entrance before sliding deep, thick and pulsing.
The demon moaned, hips rolling to take it deeper.
Elara leaned down, biting the succubus's lower lip hard enough to draw ichor—black and glittering—that tasted of starlight and sin. She licked it away, then kissed a path down the demon's throat, between her breasts, over the trembling plane of her stomach.
When she reached the succubus's core, she did not tease. She devoured—tongue spearing deep, lips sucking the swollen clit, fingers joining the vine to stretch and fill. The succubus writhed, wings flapping uselessly, tail thrashing as Elara worked her mercilessly.
Another vine circled the demon's rear entrance, pressing inside slowly, matching the rhythm of the one in her pussy. A third wrapped around her throat—not tight, just enough pressure to remind her who held the power now.
The succubus came with a scream that shattered floating orbs of fire, her body convulsing, demonic essence flooding Elara's mouth like the sweetest wine. Elara drank it down, feeling her own power swell, the Crimson Lust growing stronger, sharper.
She crawled up the succubus's trembling body, kissing her deeply, sharing the taste of her release.
"Name," Elara demanded against her lips. "Give me your name."
The succubus laughed breathlessly, gold eyes glowing with respect and hunger. "Sylara," she whispered. "And you, moon-child, have just made a very dangerous friend."
Elara smiled, slow and feral. "Good. I'll need dangerous friends."
She released the vines, and they dissolved into crimson mist. Sylara rose, wings stretching, tail curling possessively around Elara's thigh.
"The veil thins with every Blood Moon," the succubus murmured, tracing a claw gently down Elara's cheek. "Call me when you're ready to play for real. I'll come."
The dream began to fade, the chamber dissolving into silver moonlight and the sound of gently lapping water.
Elara woke gasping on the boulder by the lagoon, thighs slick, heart pounding. Thorne still slept peacefully in the bower, unaware.
But between her breasts, the filigree of Crimson Lust now bore a new mark—a tiny, perfect heart shaped like a spade, pulsing faintly with demonic gold.
Somewhere beyond the veil, Sylara smiled.
And in the distance, church hounds bayed—closer now, drawn by the surge of power that had rippled across the dreamscape.
Elara rose, naked and unafraid, the taste of infernal pleasure still on her tongue.
Let them come.
She was learning exactly how sweet vengeance could be.