Succubus Unchained - Heather Long

Chapter 1

“The most dangerous animal in the world is the silent, smiling woman.” - Anonymous

Seven weeks, six days, and something like fourteen hours since I made the worst mistake of my life. Arguably, the last mistake of my life.

The little fucker was still out there, somewhere. I didn’t obsess. Not aloud. Not where any of them could hear me.

It was just narrowly four weeks since Maddox appeared in my cell and thrust me onto the next hellish level of my journey. The worst part? I liked him.

More than I cared to admit.

A scant few days with him, Rogue, and Fin, and then Alfred woke up. And in the three plus weeks since then, I’d not been out of Alfred’s sight for longer than a few moments. Even then, I was pretty sure the ancient asshole had eyes on me. Like right now, I sat on a rock in the middle of the garden and a dozen crows fluttered about or perched. They’d arrived as soon as I had.

It didn’t matter that Alfred had been ‘asleep’ when I dragged myself from his bed or that Fin had been sprawled on my other side. It wasn’t until this week that Alfred even let me spend any time with the others.

The fact that I’d started to miss them just aggravated me even more.

I’d lost count of how many times I’d died over the last few weeks. Something had changed. Irrevocably. Something he had to know because this morning, I’d also woken to clothes waiting for me. Alfred’s chambers were large, fit for a king. Furnished, it was filled with comfortable sofas and lounging chairs. My favorite—not that I had any interest in it mind you—was the fainting couch placed in the perfect position to look out the oversized windows toward the valley.

Toward freedom.

The sun streaked in through that window for several hours a day, and I could doze there and pretend to get a tan. Not that I imagined I’d get one. I hadn’t really tanned before.

The clothing had been new. The long-sleeved Henley and jeans had been like a gift to slide on after weeks wearing a rotating selection of robes and kitten slippers. Occasionally, I’d been able to steal a shirt.

Occasionally.

It never lasted.

They, more often than not, shredded the shirts in their lust.

You might think it weird that I complained about that part. Succubus and all that, but even I had my limits. Not even a wrinkle of hunger pinched at me. I’d never been so full.

The fact that I craved any of them at all must be put down to the dementia formed by being trapped.

I despised Fin for his cheer and playfulness. I despised how he teased and dared me to play with him. I despised that even when I told him I detested him, he looked at me with sad, adoring eyes. I despised him for plucking at my thoughts, until I’d finally managed to push him out and keep him out. Even mid-orgasm, he couldn’t secret his way in anymore.

I detested Rogue for his icy demeanor and all-to-knowing eyes. At least he didn’t make promises only to break them. He didn’t pretend to like me, either. Worse, he pitied me. Bastard.

I hated Maddox because he made me care about him. He loathed that the others hadn’t kept his word. Not enough to help me escape them, but he’d promised all I had to do was listen and then they’d let me go. At least he had the decency to feel guilty about it. Not that I’d admit it aloud. Mate. He’d mated me or I’d mated him. I could pretend I hadn’t been involved, but I hadn’t forgotten the day he wanted me to bite him and I’d given in, or how it had unlocked something inside of me.

I didn’t want to care. I hated him for making me feel that way. Relationships and succubi did not mix. Not long-term. Now, I was his mate?

The dragon’s roars the day Alfred—that asshole—began my true “transition” echoed in my mind every time I considered my escape like the real bars on the cage they’d constructed around me.

Rubbing a hand against my neck, I sighed. The scar there had flattened and gone almost pure white against my skin. Even paler than the rest of me. The ridges, once defined and puffy, were smooth. The bites littering my arms, breasts, abdomen, and thighs had also faded, healing as if they hadn’t been.

The sharpness of my canines couldn’t be missed. Though they were