Page 78 of The Succubi's Choice

“I wouldn’t harm you, though, would I?” She says, looking down at the fabric of the bed, her face feeling like it’s on fire. Like her every thought is painted across it, like he can see the stupid thoughts in her brain, could see where they came from, could see the vulnerabilities in them.

“No, I don’t suppose that you would,” he says, his voice even softer.

His hand on the side of her face goes to her hair, softly stroking back her curls, and, unbidden, tears spring into her eyes.

She blinks them back in vain, before she rests her head down on the pillow, his hand still in her hair. There’s a lump in the back of her throat, one normally gotten by bad allergies or by watching sappy movies, but she just closes her eyes.

“You have had a rough couple of days, haven’t you?” He says, still soft, still way more reassuring than an Archdemon should be.

“I still don’t get why it happened,” she says, quick, forcing the words past her throat. “I still don’t get what...what they’re trying to do. I’m just someone normal, and...”

“They’re trying to hold on to a semblance of control, over something they haven’t had for years,” he says, and it sounds strangely final. Like there’s something grave behind his voice. “They see an opportunity in you, and they’re trying to grasp it with both hands, and not caring about the consequences to you.”

And while that stings, he’s not exactly wrong, and she remembers the mass of deaths in the last year and how they did nothing. How people stopped talking to them, stopped answering inquiries, everything.

She props her head over to look at him, suddenly exhausted. “And you’re not trying to have sex with me?” She asks, blunt, because the touching and the room and the entire night seems like a lead up to something, and that is the only something she can really think of at the moment. “You’re just doing this because you feel bad?”

He wrinkles his nose at her, with the same level of humor that he would with a slightly bad pun. “I’m not sure if it’s because they told you to literally get information from me, but must you question everything?”

“That’s avoiding the question again,” she says, and he briefly smiles at her.

“I’m not…trying to push a succubi into having sex with me,” he says carefully. “If that happens, I would prefer it because of free will than any sense of obligation.”

“If that happens,” she repeats, hollow.

“If that happens.”

Careful, giving him enough time to pull away, she touches the side of his face, mirroring how he’s touching hers. His eyes slip shut, and he leans into it. Like he’s just as touch starved as she is, like he has no one to be next to, like the centuries of possession haven’t taken care of that one singular need.

“I think, maybe not tonight?” She says, small, like it’s some odd concession on her part.

And it feels odd. It feels like something’s fundamentally off with the universe, like something’s shifted. And not just in the way the room feels unreal, like they’re somewhere sideways in the world, but...

He nods, against her hand, eyes still closed.

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