She returned her attention to the drink before her, a mere prop in the intricate game she played, whilst allowing the evening’s music to envelop her like a soothing balm, its rhythmic cadence washing over, pacifying the restless beast dwelling within.
 

She had been mindful not to consume the cocktail too quickly lest it led to another unwanted interaction. Another caller with another glass and another barely veiled indecent proposal. The creature was in no mood to be pursued, preferring the role of a predator in search of prey.

And she was ravenous.

​

Turning the perspiring glass before her in slow circular rotations, she stalked the venue with hungry eyes. With each revolution, beads of moisture traced a sensual path along alabaster fingers before forming into glistening pools beneath.

​

She glanced up slowly, a deliberate movement that scanned the crowded expanse of the room, taking stock of the number of watchful eyes fixed upon her, more than a few. Despite the passage of time, she was acutely aware of her allure, woven into the very fabric of her being.

For the briefest of moments, she sensed she was being observed. Unlike the rest of the eyes upon her, this one studied with guarded intent. It pricked the creature’s senses, urging caution, yet the magnetic pull of her primal impulses was undeniable as the dichotomy between hunger and self-preservation simmered within.

​

It mattered little she reminded herself, there was nothing amongst these mortals for her to fear.

​

With a sense of calm settling over her, she embraced the intoxicating waves of sound and energy before resuming the hunt, her eyes drawn toward the dance floor where bodies in motion merged like a living kaleidoscope, slowly meshing into one, before fracturing into shimmering colours and amorous fractals of desire.

​

Tonight, her preference leaned toward a female, though she remained open to the prospect of a suitable male if he met her criteria. The monster within had specific culinary tastes that had been denied for far too long. The craving was becoming difficult to suppress, her stomach and loins growling impatiently. One way or another, the hunger must be satiated.

​

She continued to scan the room searching for a suitable conquest when at that very moment the heaving crowd parted, revealing exactly what the succubae had been searching for: young, beautiful, and very edible.

​

A tiny black dress danced its own show, clutching the girl’s lithe form in enticing displays of glimpses and reveals, eliciting chills of desire and unguarded urges. Her target moved to the music as though it emanated from within, performing a courtship display of unbridled rawness for the monster to covet and later consume.

​

The demon had selected her sport for the evening and instinct told her she had chosen wisely. The perfect specimen. Thin, brunette, and intoxicatingly delicious.

​

Downing the final remnants of the drink, she readied herself to make her move, fixated intently on the captivating prize before her. A mesmerising enchantment enveloped the succubae, now ensnared by the undulating rhythm on exhibition. As the hypnotic trance took hold, her own head mimicked the dancing girl’s sinuous movements, swaying like a cobra before the strike.

​

A figure entered her peripheral, breaking the spell as she momentarily lost sight of the target. “Can I get you another drink?” The man’s rank-laden breath, a noxious blend of bourbon and cheap cigar proved an olfactory assault that grated her senses.

 

“No thanks.” She replied stony-faced, “I’m good.” The sickness now plagued her with familiar nagging waves of crippling pain as the monster within begged to be unleashed. Soon she would no longer be able to maintain control, a situation that must be avoided at all costs.

The man’s eyes glinted with something unsettling. “I think we both know you’re many things, but I doubt ‘good’ is one of them.” He slid a cocktail in front of her, identical to the one she’d just drained, the liquid splashing carelessly onto her hand. “Already ordered you one. Hope you don’t mind.

​

He smiled as if waiting for her to play along. She flicked the liquid from her fingers, wiping the rest on her dress, her gaze darting past him to the dance floor. But the man didn’t move, holding his ground, a barrier between her and her prey.

​

His smile stretched again, but it felt wrong this time—too deliberate, too strained. A knot of unease tightened in her chest as she watched him, warily tracking his movements as he pulled up a stool beside her. Another wave of hunger crashed through her, sharper, more insistent now. It gnawed and thrashed impatiently at the bit, a dangerous beast with a thirst for death, held in check by the barest of threads.

The demon glanced back to the dance floor and the girl was gone.

Shit.

​

“You know…” His voice dropped lower as he leaned in, too close. His breath brushed against her skin, laced with the foulness of stale bourbon, and something worse—a primal discomfort coiled down her spine. He nudged the drink toward her, as though offering it to a pet. “I’ve been searching for you for a long time... and you’re not quite what I expected.”

​

She rolled her eyes, fighting back the creeping unease. “Is that right?” Her words dripped with disinterest, assuming this to be the start of a pickup line. But instead of delivering one, the man stared at her, head tilted, as though he had just finished a puzzle but found himself left with an extra piece.

​

He stood tall, at least six-four, wearing a worn leather jacket and boots polished to a gleam. A soldier once no doubt. There was a roughness to him that spoke of a hard life, one spent in isolation but something about him felt… off. His presence radiated an uncanny familiarity, but she couldn't grasp why. And the more she studied him, the more that recognition felt like a warning.

​

“Well, you certainly get around…” His voice darkened, and she caught something twisted in his gaze. Those red-rimmed eyes, bloodshot and strange, held a vicious gleam beneath the yellow flecks. “I’ve heard of an American Werewolf in London, but a Canadian Demon in Queensland? Doesn’t quite have the same ring, does it? What brings a monster like you down under?”

​

Her fists clenched instinctively, veiling the subtle glow that danced from her fingertips. An acrid aroma from the drink indicated something other than sickly sweet curacao. She lifted the glass and studied it, noting some fine white particles collecting at the base. She smiled and poured the tainted drink onto the bar, “Beautiful one day, perfect the next, as they say in the brochures,” she replied dismissively, her gaze drifting to a bead of sweat trickling down the man’s forehead, a telltale sign of his growing unease.

​

She watched him closer now, a flicker of recognition gnawing at the edges of her mind, but she couldn’t place where she might have crossed paths with him before. He had once been handsome—his features still held the remnants of it—but time, or something darker, had worn him down. His greying brown hair framed a finely chiselled jaw, but it was his eyes that unsettled her. They were sad and carried their secrets close. She knew the look, having witnessed it many times in the refugee camps long ago—a very different type of hunting ground.

​

“Well, it seems you have me at a disadvantage, Sir. Perhaps you should introduce yourself?” The demon could sense the rapid beat of his pulse, thrumming beneath the surface. It was clear that, despite his feigned bravado, he was acutely aware of the danger she posed.

​

“Oh, I don’t think introductions will be necessary. I’m just another average Joe who has seen your handiwork firsthand.” He leaned in closer, and with a swift motion, opened his leather jacket to reveal a concealed pistol tucked against his side. “This killer Contiki tour you’ve been enjoying ends now. We’re leaving, and we’re doing it quietly.” His grin twisted into a sneer, but it didn’t mask the tension coiling between them.

​

“Is that right?” She was agile now, her senses heightened. The hunger had reawakened, an insistent pulse demanding to be appeased. This particular hunt had so far turned out to be much more interesting than most and while the man wasn’t what she wanted; at this point she would take what she could get. “Well, Joe, you may who I am, but I feel you have misread the situation and it is clear that despite your claims, you have no real idea what I truly am.”

​

“Listen you little bitch,” he hissed “We can do this the easy way or the hard…” Before he could finish the succubae grabbed the man by his wrist, holding him tightly as a faint golden light entwined his forearm. As her power subdued him the creature smiled, enjoying the look of shock spread across his features before being replaced by a familiar vacant expression. She recognized it all too well—the glassy eyes, the surrender of his will to her own. Humans were such simple prey she mused.

​

“You want to get out of here?” the monster inquired, fully aware there would be no reply as she began to lead him off of his stool, but then, in an instant, something unexpected happened—something the succubae had only experienced a few times in her long, dark existence. A connection ignited between them, a doorway flung wide open to his soul, and she was instantly assaulted by waves of memories crashing against her consciousness.

​

The man’s childhood unfolded before her—images of snowy winters and sun-kissed summers, laughter echoing in a warm home, his loving parents and a little girl with wide eyes and boundless energy twirling through the living room. An idyllic life shattered by tragedy, an accident leaving him alone, thrust into the role of protector for his younger sister.

​

As these memories flooded her, she sensed a palpable change in him—a deep-rooted sorrow that anchored him to the earth like a lead weight. Yet she couldn’t focus on that. More memories rushed in like a deluge, invading her thoughts. She saw men in uniform, their faces grim and determined, as gunfire erupted around them. Fear clung to him; a suffocating shroud woven from the threads of war. A fear that he wouldn’t survive, that he wouldn’t make it back like he had promised he would.

​

The succubus fought desperately to break the link, overwhelmed by his memories and the tide of emotions that surged through her. Then, without warning, a new memory forced itself into her mind’s eye. It was a scene she recognized all too well, a moment she too had once fled from—a cold night filled with snow and flashing lights, a body bag lying ominously on the ground. She witnessed the haunting scene play out before her—a torment she had unleashed on this man long ago, a torment that had twisted and marred his life ever since.

​

The connection between man and monster severed as abruptly as it had begun. As she stumbled to regain her composure, she caught sight of a solitary tear rolling down the man’s stubbled cheek, a small but profound testament to the pain she had caused.

​

For the briefest moment, the humanity she had long abandoned surged back within her, flooding her with empathy and regret. That terrible night haunted her, too—the night she had fully succumbed to the monster within, allowing it to consume the last remnants of the woman she once was. It was that very same day she had truly died.

​

“I’m…” The creature caught the sob before it could escape her lips but her own solitary tear paved its way down her cheek. “I’m truly sorry for the pain I caused you. Your curse is my curse. I hope one day you can find the peace you deserve.”

​

As her words hung heavily in the air, she released the man’s wrist, and he collapsed onto the ground, the impact echoing in her heart. For a fleeting moment, she looked down at the broken human she had inadvertently created, and sorrow washed over her. How many like him had she created? How many lives had she destroyed to satisfy a thirst that can never be quenched?

​

The monster turned away, leaving behind the weight of her actions as she headed for the nightclub’s exit, the crowd parting around her like shadows, their curious stares lingering long after she had gone.

​