chapter 1(b)

b.Whispers in the dark:The succubus' Embrace

Angus was crouched in the bathtub, his body curled up like a malformed fetus. The water surrounding him was crimson, and the steady stream from the shower head above only made him shiver more, chilling his already frozen mind. The echoes of distant screams lingered in the air, gradually fading from downstairs.

"Angus!" The scream pierced through the air, louder and more desperate.

The bathroom door flung open, and Imogen staggered in. Blood covered her from head to toe, her body trembling with shock. She moved toward Angus, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around him.

"Please, Angus! You have to help me! Please, I—" She gasped between sobs, holding him tighter. "You have to—"

But Angus remained frozen, staring into the void. His mind was a whirlwind of dark thoughts, too clouded to comprehend her words.

"Stay away from my wife!" he whispered, his voice strained, as a shadow crossed the doorway.

The figure that entered was a woman. She was *impossibly* beautiful, with features that seemed sculpted by desire itself—exquisite in every curve and line. Her eyes glowed with a malevolent allure, and her body exuded an almost hypnotic sensuality, each movement deliberate, predatory. Her lips curled into a smile as she approached.

Without a word, she grabbed Imogen by the ankle, yanking her effortlessly and dragging her across the blood-soaked floor. Imogen screamed in terror, clawing at the smooth tiles, but her desperate grip on Angus only caused her nails to tear into his back. The sharp, searing pain of her scratches raked across his skin, yet Angus didn't move. His mind was a locked box, trapped in the grip of his own thoughts.

Imogen's screams dwindled into silence, swallowed by the house. Moments later, the woman reappeared, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Her hair, dark as midnight, clung to her shoulders in wet tendrils, framing a face that could have been sculpted by the gods themselves. Her eyes were her most captivating feature—large, almond-shaped, and a shade of deep amber that seemed to glow in the dim light. They were hypnotic, pulling Angus in with an intensity that made his breath catch. Her lips were full and red, curved into a faint, knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine.

Her body was equally mesmerizing—tall and lithe, with curves that seemed to defy gravity. Her movements were fluid, almost predatory, as she dropped her bathrobe and stepped into the bathtub, her bare skin glistening under the stream of water. She knelt before Angus, her presence commanding yet strangely comforting. Her hands, delicate but strong, reached out to cradle his face, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through his chilled body.

"Angus," she whispered, her voice low and velvety, like the purr of a cat. "You've been through so much. Let me take care of you."

He blinked, his mind still foggy, but he couldn't look away from her. There was something about her—something magnetic and irresistible. As she leaned in, her lips brushed against his forehead in a kiss so tender it made his chest ache. Her hands trailed down his arms, her touch feather-light but electrifying. She traced the scratches on his back, her fingers lingering on the wounds as if she could heal them with her touch.

"You're safe now," she murmured, her breath warm against his skin. "No one will take you from me "

Angus felt himself surrendering to her, his body relaxing despite the chaos that had just unfolded. She shifted closer, her legs tangling with his beneath the blood-tinged water. Her hands roamed his chest, her touch both soothing and stirring something deep within him. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her back, and was surprised to feel the texture of her skin—scaly at first, but softening under his touch, becoming smooth and warm like silk.

She tilted his chin up, her amber eyes locking onto his. "You're stronger than you think," she said, her voice a whisper that seemed to echo in his mind. "But you don't have to be strong right now. Not with me."

Her lips found his, and the kiss was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was deep, consuming, as if she were drawing out all his pain and fear and replacing it with something else—something warm and alive. Her hands slid down his back, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed together in the narrow confines of the bathtub. The water cascaded over them, washing away the blood and the tension, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of warmth and quiet.

For a moment, the world outside the bathroom ceased to exist. There was no screaming, no chaos, no Imogen—just the two of them, lost in each other. Her touch was intoxicating, her presence a balm to his shattered nerves. She kissed him again, slower this time, her hands threading through his hair as she held him close.

"Stay with me," she murmured against his lips, her voice a plea and a promise all at once. "Just for a little while."

Angus nodded, his arms wrapping around her as he let himself sink into the moment. The water continued to fall around them, a steady rhythm that seemed to sync with the beating of their hearts. For the first time in what felt like forever, Angus felt a flicker of peace—a , fleeting thing, but real nonetheless.