Lydia was waiting in her usual spot when I got home. I walked up close and looked her in the eye. “I think you are what my family made you, good and bad. I can’t change the things you’ve done. I don’t even know how much of it was done by your own free will. I bet you don’t even know. But I think there’s still something human in you, and I’m gonna find it. But if I’m wrong about that, and you really are just a killer? You better hide it really, really well. Because the minute I catch you lying to me, we’re done. Tell me you believe me.”

Lydia said, “I believe you.”

I walked straight to the shower and scrubbed myself raw, lingering a bit too long, stalling for time, building my courage for what came next.

I slipped on shorts and a clean t-shirt, sat down on the edge of my bed, and said, “Lydia, come to me.”

* * *

Lydia appeared sitting beside me in a soft flash of golden light.

“There used to be these camps,” I said. “Summer camp for manboys, I guess. Lonely, desperate boys would save up all their money and pay thousands of dollars to go to one of these places and learn how to do man stuff - hunting, fishing, shooting. All the stuff you miss out on when you don’t really have a dad. They would take these guys and teach them how to dress, how to walk, how to make eye contact, and how to talk to women.

“At the end of the week, they would send them into nightclubs as a kind of final exam, sending them in like kamikaze pilots to get shot down by hairdressers and college girls. They would send these poor fuckers in with a head full of pick-up lines and a few tips about body language and force them to face rejection over and over and over again, getting their egos beaten to shit until it didn’t even hurt anymore.

“Then, as a closing ceremony, they would make them bungee jump off a bridge or walk across hot coals or throw themselves off a cliff. It had to be terrifying, so it would stick in the mind, so for years later, these boys could look back and say, ‘That was it. That was the moment I decided to be something better.’ I never had that experience, so tonight, you get to be my cliff.”

“Lydia, I need your help.” I leaned in to face her, until we were almost touching, and said, “Right here. Tonight. Make me believe what you’ve been telling me. Show me what I am.”

Lydia stood up and bowed to me. Then she walked out and came back carrying a glass of water. Light from the hallway made soft shadows on her face. She knelt before me and took a slow sip. Then she gave me the glass.

I took a long, slow drink. We stared into each other’s eyes, sitting in silence for a full two minutes, then she asked, “Do you still want my help?”

I said, “Yes.”

That “yes” right there? That’s called a willing embrace of evil, and once you do it, nobody cares why.

A glimmer of gold, and there she was, my succubus, completely real and physical for the first time. Her horns seemed smaller somehow, and her tail was even cuter, hovering over her shoulder like it had a mind of its own.

“Does this door lock?” she asked.

“Just close it and press the button. You think somebody’s gonna catch us?”

“Just a gesture, to help you relax.” Then she secured my curtains and said, “That will have to do.”

“We can’t use costumes this time,” Lydia said, “but I can take this off for you.” Lydia took her black gown off, slow and casual. She wasn’t stripping and she wasn’t showing off. She was just taking her clothes off, in the light where I could see. She stepped out of it and tossed it over my chair. “This time, this first time, I must use my natural form.”

“Why?”

“My interpretation of your contract: ‘The nature of the bargain must be made clear.’”

“You kept your tail hidden for weeks. I’ve missed it.”

Lydia smiled. “Me, too!” She popped her back and gave a little shimmy, like she was stretching into an old pair of jeans. There was something unbearably sexy about it. Then we sat across from each other with our hands folded in our laps, sexy as a church picnic.

“This is my first gift to you,” she said. “Tonight, I am giving you time. We are not racing the clock, the calendar, or the sun. We’re done when you say we’re done. It’s morning when you say it’s morning.”

“Is this the part where you tell me to relax?”

“I think it would be more fun to see you tense. Go ahead. Tighten your muscles and twist your face up. Bite like you’re crushing something with your teeth. You can clench your fists and growl at me if you think it would help.”

The sudden change in mood caught me off guard. We laughed softly for a moment, then Lydia said, “Look at me.”

“I’ve been looking at you every day.”

“No, you’ve been glancing at me, peeking and darting away right before you let yourself enjoy it. This time I want you to look, really look at me. Look until you’re not ashamed of looking.”

“I’ll try.”

* * *

“I know you’ve been with women, but I need to show you how a succubus body works. I need you to be comfortable with me in my real body; to accept me, completely, for what I really am.”

“Is this really necessary? You’ve been in my living room for weeks, and in my bed for most of it.”

“Not like this. Demon bodies are different in ways I can’t hide. If I skip this part, if we just go at each other like a man and woman, one of these differences is going to frighten you. I’ve seen it too many times. The passion stops, you retreat into the next room, and I spend the rest of our night explaining myself and trying to calm you down. Easier to do it this way. We’ll go through the little differences, one at a time, and end our evening with what you already know how to do.”

“If you say so.”

And then something changed. “Wait, there it is again. Did you put on magic perfume or something? I swear I didn’t smell anything from you until that night I kissed you. That’s why I thought you were a projection for so long. What changed?”

“I have to be careful with what parts of myself I allow in the physical world at any one time, partly to avoid detection, partly for defense. I can vanish very quickly, for example, if a visitor peeks in or enters your home while I’m here. I’m also very strict with the contract before we get to this point. If you can smell me, then tiny parts of my body are entering yours. I interpret that as touching, and I don’t allow it until you’re ready. It wasn’t a literal violation of your contract, but it was sloppy of me to let you catch my scent that first time, when I was… distracted.”

I leaned forward and smelled her hair. I took too long to speak, so she said, “Well? Do you like the scent? I suppose I could change it, but this is an important part of me.”

“I’m just trying to place… Okay, I give up. What is it?”

“Roses from Xavier’s garden, and a little something you won’t find on Earth. That was one of my first tasks, maintaining Xavier’s garden. At first, this was the only way I could make him smile, to smell like these roses when I came back in.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

* * *

“I hope you’ll forgive a little ritual,” she said, “here at the beginning. If we were just going to share bodies tonight, we’d already be doing it, but this is the beginning of a bonding process, physical, mental, and magical. Our bond will start tonight, and get stronger, until I can share magic with you over long distances and feel what you’re feeling. I’ll always know where you are, and I’ll always be able to come to you. Once we have this, I’m yours, for the rest of your life. You’ll be able to feel me, day or night, and hear my voice, no matter where we go.”

And there it was. The kind of connection men would kill for. Everybody thinks we fall for the demon stuff, but what price would you pay to never feel lonely again? What price would you pay for a lover who could not die? What price would you pay for a companion who would never grow old? And what price would you pay to have a tender, loving voice in your head forever, keeping all the other monsters away? Is that the confession you were waiting for, you smug son of a bitch?

And then I kissed her. Not quite as hot as the first time, but as I was warming up to the task, about to let my hands start roaming, my fingertips brushed two long, hard ridges on her back. She froze, and I realized I was probing them, gently running my fingers up and down two scars.

“You’ve been hiding these,” I said, “but not tonight. It’s not all good news, is it? When you said you had to show me everything.”

Lydia lowered her head, and I gently turned her around so I could see.

“This is where your wings attached, and these are not cuts. These are tears. Oh Lydia, what did they do to you?”

She didn’t answer, and I realized I couldn’t fix anything. I couldn’t even comprehend the magnitude of a crime like this. I couldn’t turn the clock back, and I couldn’t heal these scars. All I could do was kiss them, and hold her while she shook.

* * *

“For this next part,” she said, “please sit on your hands.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m about to do a magic trick, and you might be tempted to touch something you shouldn’t. Ready?”

I nodded, feeling slightly foolish.

Lydia held her hands up and twiddled her fingers. “Watch closely. Fingers. Claws. Fingers. Claws.” Her nails were changing length and shape each time she said that, growing a few inches and shrinking back again, as fast as she could say the word. “I can even do individual fingers. One, two, three, four… And here’s the important part. I’m going to stab these claws into myself, but retract them, just before they reach my skin. Watch.”

And she did, faster and faster until I could hardly see.

“I have precise control over these, Timothy. Jacob said I could do surgery. And yes, I have killed with them. But you need to see that I will never, ever hurt you. I would never hurt you intentionally, and I have never cut one of my partners by accident.”

“And before you get that look on your face,” she frowned at me, “I do not consider pain to be fun or funny. I believe there is a clear line between pain and pleasure, and to think otherwise is the sign of a broken mind. I do not play games with pain, and there will be no blood in my bedroom. The trust between us must be absolute. I would never harm you. My Master cannot order me to harm you. He uses other servants when discipline is required. My role is to teach you, protect you, and heal your wounds.

“And Timothy, please. You will not impress me by showing me how fast you can throw your back out. You want to impress your succubus in bed? Give me more nights with you in it, and give me some memories to keep, for the nights when you don’t come home.”

* * *

“You didn’t need to do the claw thing,” I said. “I’ve already seen you go full demon on a guy, and that should bother me way more than it does.”

“Yes, but it’s different when those fingers are about to be touching you. The first few times we’re together, you’ll think of those claws every time I touch you, but that demonstration should help you get used to them.”

Lydia bowed her head. “These are my horns. Too small for any useful purpose; all they do is ruin brushes. Anything particularly frightening about these?”

I shook my head. Lydia changed horns the same way she changed clothes, but her real horns were tiny things. At first glance, they were black, but up close, they were dark red - black at the base, translucent red at the tips. Strange and lovely. When I touched them, they were hard, but mercifully blunt, a good ten degrees hotter than the rest of her. Her hair was magnificent - soft and clingy and full of curls. I could play with it for hours, watching those curls twist in my fingers.

Lydia closed her eyes when I touched her face and made a little noise when I flattened my palm on her cheek. She laughed when I wiggled her ears and smiled when I tweaked her nose. Her tongue came out, just a bit, as I traced her lips. She took the tiniest, most fleeting taste of my fingertip, just to watch the look on my face.

Her nipples were ready when I got there, and I lingered on them a bit too long. I stroked her belly and her ribs, wiggling my finger to test the integrity of her belly button, making a mental note to ask some questions about that later. Then I put my hands on her hips and tested her weight. After weeks of being insubstantial, the real Lydia was a solid female figure, a bit heavier than Judy.

Then I thought of something and put my hand on her chest again. Her skin was warm, but she had no heartbeat and no discernible pulse. Lydia had a hundred pounds of something inside her, but it might as well be clay.

I copped another gratuitous feel and got distracted by her tail. It emerged smoothly from the base of her spine. Pale pink at the base, fading through red, dark red, and black, to end in that arrowhead tip. I reached for it, and she stopped me again. “Wait! Please. Not yet.” More of a gasp than a sentence.

I didn’t understand her urgency, but I respected it. Her legs were lovely, if not terribly long. I rubbed her feet and tickled her toes, evoking a musical laugh. Baalphezar’s mark on her ankle was cold, much colder than the rest of her. In my mind, I could hear the rattle of chains.

Lydia sat up and slung her tail around her waist. It wavered like a pet snake. “Now,” she said. “Do the tail.”

It was softer than it looked. Lydia unraveled as I traced it with my finger. The texture was obscene. I realized I was stroking it, mesmerized by the way it curled around my fingers. I heard a deep breath and looked up. Lydia’s eyes were closed, and her lips were slightly apart. Her breathing was slow and heavy. When I rubbed it, she whimpered and bit her lip. I realized what I was doing and decided that was all the go signal I needed at this point.

I reached for my shorts, but she stopped me. “No. No shortcuts. You’ll know when it’s time.”

She kept the tail at eye level, watching my face as I watched it sway. “In the Garden, all women had tails. It was a gift from God. Ornament, tool, and weapon. God gave us this limb to balance the gifts of men, but Adam didn’t want an equal. Lilith rebelled and Eve lost her tail. That’s why women have to work so hard in your world. They were robbed of their birthright, cheated by a man who resented the first woman. That’s the legend they tell us when we ask about our tails. Satan didn’t deform us when he made us demons; he gave us back what we lost.”

* * *

I was a mess. I grabbed my water and finished it in one gulp. “Lydia, I can’t take much more of this. Shit, I can’t believe I’ve held out this long.”

“You’re still a bit scared of me. It helps.” Her tail whizzed over my shoulder as she hit the switch on my lamp with it, plunging us into darkness. “Are you ready for the magic?” She was already starting to glow, a faint glimmer of gold peeking through her skin like dawn. The light spread out and washed over me, my own personal sunrise. Lydia gave me her hands and said, “One more time.”

I touched her and the world went gray. She wasn’t using much power - a trickle to tempt me, I think. I could taste it, creeping somewhere behind my tongue. Lydia’s power was very strange, tangy like I’d bitten into some kind of fruit. I thought it was an apple or a pear, but that wasn’t quite right. How could something so evil taste so good?

Lydia gave me her power, and I answered, feeding back a trickle of my own. Somewhere in the distance, she moaned. I think I shocked her, broke her concentration or something, because I wasn’t supposed to know how to do this yet. It was penetration, of a sort, and I gave her no warning.

It was easy to forget, as long as it had been for me, it had been a lot longer for her. She had been planning a slow exchange of magic, an escalating spiral, like everything else we’d done tonight. Instead, Lydia convulsed and gave me everything - all she had, all she was - all at once. It was like the chair or the rift, or the duel with Denise - magnified and multiplied and flavored with this sweet maddening thing that I couldn’t get enough of. My body took it all, blooming like a flower in her hands. Something inside me stretched and I was drinking her.

I gave her power, and she gave it back, caught in this magnificent loop. It was an old ritual. Older than my contract, older than the book - the ancient dance of mage and demon - sweet, forbidden, and divine.

I didn’t notice right away, but Lydia was healing me. Sore muscles trembled fresh, a dozen cuts vanished, and two of my fillings popped out, replaced with brand new teeth. I felt like a living hurricane. I felt like a god.

Lydia grabbed my face and echoed in my mind, “Do you see it now? Do you see what you are?”

I yanked her hands off and broke contact, watching the light from our auras mingle on the wall. We were quite a pair, panting and sweating like we’d just been having sex for real. Lydia smoothed her hair back and stared at me. I’ll remember that expression forever, that new gleam in her eye.

“Look at you,” she said. “Sitting there taking in magic, getting stronger every minute, just because you’re happy. I have never seen a Kovach mage draw power from joy before. I never even imagined…”

She turned her head away and stared at the floor with her hand over her mouth, like she was trying to make herself believe something. Then she grabbed my face with both hands.

“I will not fail you, Timothy. I will not waste this chance. I know you still think I’m a monster. I can’t defend the things I’ve done or the things I still have to do. There’s so much I can’t tell you, so much I can’t say. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope, at the end, you’ll understand, and you’ll finally believe me, when I say I love you.”

Lydia cut my clothes away with two swift strokes, and it was time to be a man again.

* * *

And no, I’m not gonna relive this part. I’m not gonna turn my life into porn for angels. They want me to replay it, to make me agonize over what I’ve lost. They want to turn my happiest memory into a weapon and drive me to despair.

Not today, motherfuckers. Not today.