Chapter 1

AÏDON'S POV;

Death.

The stench is horrid as it overshadows the overbearing smell of disinfectant and fills the entirety of the dimly lit hall. I'm unable to resist neither the slightest wrinkle of my nose as I expel a heated breath of air nor the twitch in my left hand when the putrid smell wafts up my nostrils and causes my stomach to stir unpleasantly.

The faintest of sounds piques my interest and my gaze is instantly pulled to a lone light bulb at the far end of the hallway, it flickers continuously overhead, catching the attention of a dozen or so flies who buzz around the object. Blindly seeking solace in the warmth... but I know better.

"...I assure you, sir, everything will be alright." A middle-aged nurse offers what looks more like a grimace than a smile to the anxious male, her eyes warm and countenance exuding an illusive calmness as she regards his frazzled form. However, I notice the panic buried deep beneath those mocha irises, the slight flush to her ivory skin, and the irregular rise and fall of her chest. She turns without another word, feet moving quickly as she scurries past him, her shoulders somewhat deflating.

The male inhales deeply, calming himself as he returns to his seat. He hasn't had the time to process everything that has happened within the past 30 minutes. One minute he was smiling, cradling the latest addition to the family in his arms as his wife tiredly smiled up at him. And the next, there was an urgent beep accompanied by two nurses who ushered him out of the room and shut the door behind them.

Gently, he lowers himself into a sitting position, his eyes - tired and sporting dark eyebags - hold a glimmer of assurance aimed at the elderly figure beside him. Silently, he wraps an arm tightly around her and squeezes, offering a tight-lipped smile when she pats the back of his palm gently.

My heart clenches.

The hallway is eerily silent, save for the repeated chime of an old clock and whispered prayers bouncing off the walls.

Sighing, I risk a glance at the watch tightly encasing my wrist. The leather is smooth when it rubs against my skin, giving the wearer a false illusion of comfort and normality... one I almost fall into now and then. A shrill cry ripping through the cold night serves almost as a dreadful reminder of what it truly is - of what it signifies, and the illusion crumbles.

I don't need to look at the scene to know what has happened. The man's yells of protest and the anguish-filled cries that echo loudly in the desolate hallways are a giveaway.

My gaze flickers over to the watch; 1:26 am. Not a second more, not a second less.

The flies have disappeared yet the stench remains; foul. The wailing duo hold onto the other in search of comfort... a rock to anchor the other down.

Silently, I push my body off the wall and tighten my grasp on the leather book in my hand, subconsciously tracing its rough edges. I walk past them in long strides, I can see them but they can't see me.

She is bent over when I walk in, the hospital gown hanging off her shoulders as she coos weakly to the child placed in a cot at a corner of the room and laughs to herself. At the sound of the door opening, she whirls around on her heels and her smile is instantly wiped away.

There's a silent resignation, as though she has accepted her fate, as she meets my gaze. She is just one of many souls being collected tonight, one of many to encounter me and never live to tell the tale.

"Please," she whispers, her wide gray eyes - strikingly similar to those of the woman outside- begin to tear up when she glances back at the cot. Her skin is still sweaty from the recent exertion of childbirth, dark hair sticking to the nape of her neck. I almost feel sorry for her, knowing she won't get to watch her child grow, and won't experience all the firsts a mother should.

But I shake my head. I am merely a servant.

"My apologies."

—

The cry of the newborn haunts me even as I check out her name from the black book and set out to return to my abode. My dark cloak feels heavy upon my shoulders and I shrug the material off, choosing to embrace the harsh, cold wind as I trek down the familiar streets of the northern part of the city.

I shall get no ounce of sleep tonight, this I know, hence why barely two hours later, I find myself entangled in the sheets of my guest room in hopes for a distraction.

Long legs wrap around my waist, cinching tightly around me as I thrust into her. Blood-red nails dig into my shoulders and leave behind crescent marks. The tinge of pain is welcomed wholeheartedly.

Another sound of pleasure is released into the night, my hands tightening around her thighs.

Piercing green snake-like orbs flicker open when I thrust deeper into her slick walls. Lips parting breathlessly, both of us now buried under a dark mist of immense pleasure.

My momentum increases and my hips flex, ramming into her once, twice. She falls apart with a weak cry, her liquid desire dripping down the insides of her thighs. Her arms are weak, yet she clings to my neck as her body jolts with each thrust, the bedpost quivering against the wall.

I feel the succubus slump beneath me. Drained yet unrelenting, aching yet eager to please.

The shrill sound of a ringing phone draws that moment to a still. At first, I want to ignore it, but then the incessant sound has me groaning in agitation.

Finally, I slide out of her and turn on my side, reaching for the stupid contraption with a deepened scowl.

"We have a problem."

***

Small - barely up to a good five feet, curled into a small ball with tendrils of fiery red mane sticking to her freckled face and longer strands sprawled around the dirt like a halo. There's a huge dent in the landmark where she now lays at the bottom.

My gaze shifts and I then note the fragility she holds; a petite thing with delicate skin and bones that could break at the slightest input of pressure.

Human.

Weak and defenseless…

"So," I turn to meet the dark gazes of the ten elders behind me, a dark red mist hovering over their slender figures as their sullen, onyx eyes stare at me head-on.

"What do you suggest?" they don't speak but a small inclination of the head of the youngest brother tells me that they are curious.

So I continue with a sly grin. "Throw her into the snake pit or down the burning embers?"