Chapter 2(b)

b.Her Kiss,My soul: Trapped by a succubus

Angus' body still burned with the aftershocks of the act. His chest heaved, breaths shallow and quick as he lay beside her, watching her. The succubus—*Selene*—her name whispered through his mind, was motionless now, her body glowing under the pale moonlight. Sweat clung to her skin like dew, an ethereal sheen over the soft curves of her form. She lay on her stomach, the rise and fall of her back slow and hypnotic, like the world was holding its breath. The time to escape was now.

With a final heavy sigh, Angus pushed himself up, his limbs sluggish, but determination fueled him. He crept from the bed, each movement as silent as he could manage, every muscle in his body screaming at him to hurry. His mind raced, barely comprehending the gravity of his situation. His eyes flicked to her—she was still, almost too still. He could feel the danger, like a shadow in the room, but for now, she slumbered.

He moved quickly, his feet quiet on the wooden floor, almost too quiet. His heart thudded in his chest, the sound deafening in his ears. At the kitchen, he pulled open the drawer with trembling hands, the cold steel of the handgun familiar against his palm. It was an option. A fleeting thought.

But the realization hit him—he couldn't kill her. She was immortal. He would die trying.

Angus' throat tightened as he held the gun, staring at the cold steel, trying to reconcile his urge to end it with the knowledge that it was futile.

His only choice now was to run.

He returned to the bedroom door, the weight of the gun pressing down on his chest. His coat, hanging from the back of the chair, was the last thing he needed—*just one more thing that could slow him down*. His hands were shaking as he grabbed it, pulling it over his shoulders as his eyes flicked to the sleeping form of Selene. She hadn't moved. He checked again. *Still nothing.*

With a final breath, he tiptoed out the door.

Angus tore down the front hallway, out through the door, his bare feet hitting the cool ground. His mind screamed at him to keep running, to escape this nightmare—but when he reached the gate, he collided with something—or rather, someone.

The succubus stood there, naked, soft yet so very strong, her body glowing in the moonlight. His heart dropped, and his legs buckled beneath him as he stumbled backward.

She didn't move. Not yet.

Angus' hand was already at his belt, fingers trembling as he pulled the gun, but before he could lift it, Selene was upon him. She was impossibly fast—one moment she was across the yard, and the next, she stood over him, her presence enveloping him like a suffocating fog.

He raised the gun to his own neck, but before he could even pull the trigger, she touched the barrel with the palm of her hand. The bullet inside folded in on itself, a jagged metal disk clattering harmlessly to the ground.

Her gaze locked onto his. In that instant, everything else fell away. His breath hitched, his vision blurring as she stood above him, a predator with a hypnotic stare.

Selene's smile spread across her lips, slow and seductive, as she stepped forward. Her tail—sharp and sinuous—slithered from behind her and curled around the gun, pulling it from his grip with a fluid motion. She knew exactly what she was doing.

His mind screamed for escape, for clarity, but all he could focus on was her touch. Her palm glided over his skin, electric and warm. The air shifted, charged with the weight of something too dangerous to resist.

Angus' heart raced, his mind clouded by the weight of her gaze. She had always known how to twist the world around him—bend it to her will—but now, her touch was something else entirely. Her soft hand cupped his cheek gently, guiding his face upward to meet hers. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to resist, but her proximity, her intoxicating scent—it was too much.

Her lips hovered just above his, a teasing distance that made his pulse spike.

"You feel it too, don't you?" she whispered, her voice like silk wrapping around his senses.

He nodded, his breath shaky, the battle in his chest raging between his need for freedom and the undeniable pull of her presence.

"Good," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Don't fight it, Angus. Let it happen."

With those words, she kissed him, softly at first, as though testing his resolve. Her lips were impossibly soft, and when they parted, she deepened the kiss, her tongue gliding over his lips in an invitation he couldn't refuse.

Angus was lost. Every sense he had became consumed by her touch. He could feel the heat of her body, her perfect form pressed against him, and it was more than his body could handle. She moved slowly, deliberately, drawing him into a dance he was powerless to resist. She wasn't just kissing him—she was making him feel every inch of her, every breath, every beat of her heart, as though they were one.

Her hand slid down his chest, over the muscles tensing beneath his skin, the warmth of her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her fingers traced the lines of his abdomen, teasing the waistband of his jeans before retreating back up to his shoulders. He shuddered at the contact, his body responding to her every move.

But it wasn't just his body that she was controlling—it was his mind too. As she kissed him again, deeper this time, he could feel his resolve slipping away. Every kiss was a push, every touch a pull deeper into her web.

Angus knew he was losing himself, but the need to feel her, to be with her, was overpowering. His hands found their way to her back, pulling her closer, desperate to feel more of her. Her skin was warm against him, soft, like silk slipping through his fingers. He couldn't stop himself from exploring more, from pulling her into him until there was no space left between them.

He kissed her neck, his lips trailing down to her collarbone, his hands roaming lower as he felt the curve of her waist. She gasped, just loud enough for him to hear, and the sound went straight to his head, amplifying the desire that burned inside of him.

She was everything he wanted and everything he shouldn't.

But just as his hands reached her pelvis, ready to explore some more, Selene stopped him with a single finger on his chest.

"Not yet," she murmured, her voice thick with desire, but there was something else in it. Something darker. "Let's take our time. You're not ready for this... yet."

Her words were a challenge, an invitation to push further, and the thought of holding back only made his longing grow.

Still, his resistance, what little of it remained, began to crumble. His body was ready. But his mind? His mind was screaming at him to stop, to think, to run—but it was drowned out by the pull of her.

She let out a soft laugh, as though reading his mind, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Her gaze flicked to his eyes, and in that moment, he saw it—*control*. She wasn't just playing with his emotions; she was molding him, shaping him into exactly what she wanted. She was patient, seductive, but there was a calculation beneath the surface of it all.

"I think you're starting to understand," she whispered, tracing a finger along his jawline. "You're mine, Angus. You always have been."

Angus couldn't help but respond, his voice hoarse as he murmured, "Then why stop now?"

Selene's lips curled into a smile, that knowing, dangerous smile, and her eyes locked onto his, making him feel like the only thing that mattered in that moment was her. She brushed a strand of hair from his face, her touch light, as if trying to soothe the frantic pace of his heart.

She looked at him with an almost sadistic smile, her eyes locking with his, pulling him in, deeper and deeper. He felt his body betray him even more as she cast her spell—he couldn't move, couldn't stop himself from feeling the sudden surge of desire pulse through him. His loins stirred, and against his will, he found himself stepping even closer to her.

Angus was under her control, as if every part of his body had been rewritten by her touch.. His body ached, his chest heaving as he gazed down at her, his fingers itching to explore. He kissed her again, his lips finding hers with an intensity that surprised him. Her soft lips parted, and he followed, trailing kisses across her neck, down her shoulders, over her collarbone, worshiping every inch of her body as if he had no control over his actions.

His hands roamed across her skin, grazing over the smoothness of her back, her curves, the way her hips beckoned him closer. She moaned softly, the sound like music, driving him further into his lustful haze.

His lips moved down her body, finding her breasts, kissing each one with reverence, tasting her skin, savoring the feel of her against him. His hands found their way to her waist, caressing the soft flesh before gliding downward to her thighs. He kissed the soft flesh of her thighs, his hands trailing behind, adoring her as if she were a goddess.

He knelt before her, his face hovering inches from her skin, and kissed her feet—each toe, the arch of her foot, the smoothness of her heel. He worshiped every part of her, drawn to her completely, unable to resist the pull she had on him.

And then, as his fingers reached for his belt, she stopped him.

"No," she whispered, her voice low and velvet-like, the command threading through the air like a spell of its own.

"Let's take this inside," she said, her voice seductive and firm.

He swallowed hard, feeling a strange mix of guilt and longing. There was no turning back now, not when his body burned for her touch, when every fiber of his being screamed for release, for her.

But then, as if the world was slowing around him, she stopped him. Her fingers curled around his wrist, halting his movement. "Take it inside," she said softly, her voice laced with a kind of authority he couldn't resist. "This is not the place."

Angus wanted to protest, to take her here, in the moonlight, but something in her gaze told him he wouldn't be able to fight her for long. Her influence over him was growing stronger with each passing second. She had him exactly where she wanted him.

"Inside," she repeated, her voice firm yet seductive. She stepped back, guiding him gently, coaxing him to follow her inside. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as if she knew the exact effect she had on him.

Angus, driven by an overwhelming wave of desire, moved swiftly and purposefully, pulling Selene toward him. As they passed the fountain on the front porch, the soft sound of water splashing in the background seemed to heighten the tension between them. He stopped abruptly, his breath heavy, and backed her up against the pillar that held the balcony above them, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on her bare skin.

He pressed his body against hers, his chest rising and falling with each breath, and kissed her neck hungrily, his lips trailing down to the delicate curve of her shoulder. "I can't help it," he muttered, his voice low and ragged. "I want to feel you under the moonlight."

Her heart raced in response, a mix of desire and hesitation in her eyes as she met his fiery gaze. "You're strong," she whispered, the words laced with a teasing edge, yet there was an undeniable flicker of both fear and longing in her expression.

Angus gripped her wrists and held them firmly above her head, his hands strong and commanding, the pressure making her pulse quicken. He kissed her neck again, his lips soft yet firm against her skin, and then pulled back to meet her gaze. "Once in a while," he whispered, "I must remind you that I am the man."

With a swift motion, he loosened his belt, the heavy buckle falling to the ground with a soft clink, and his jeans slipped lower, his body responding to the need between them. He was pressed so close to her, she could feel the heat of him against her, the growing bulge in his pants pressing against her backside. Selene's breath hitched as she felt the undeniable pull between them.

Her tail wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer, forcing him to feel the heat of her body, her every curve. She arched her back, pressing her bottom against him, as if coaxing him to give in completely. M raw energy between them was electric, each movement more charged than the last.