The hallway lights were blindingly bright, so stark they seemed to strip the air of warmth. They buzzed faintly, an electric hum that set my teeth on edge, though not as much as the silence between footsteps. The succubus lagged half a step behind me, her hooves clicking on the ground, her steps hesitant.

I glanced back to check on her. She wasn’t looking at me—her pink eyes darted to every corner of the corridor, her pupils narrow and sharp. Her tail whipped behind her in jerky, anxious movements, her claws flexing as though she were preparing to fight. Her breathing was shallow, but her expression was fierce, defiant. She looked like she was holding herself together by a thread, and the thread was fraying fast.

“Almost there,” I said softly, my voice barely carrying over the sterile hum of the hallway. She didn’t respond, but her tail snapped against the wall with a loud crack that made the tech ahead of us flinch.

“You’re sure about this?” the medic asked as we reached the door to the medbay. He turned, his clipboard tucked under one arm, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between me and her. “Because most people would’ve just walked away.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not most people,” I said, my voice tight. “Let’s just get this done.”

The med bay hummed with the quiet efficiency of people who had done this a million times before. Like out in the hall, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, washing the room in sterile white. Everything smelled like antiseptic—a sharp, almost biting tang that clung to my nostrils.

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the medical team circle the succubus like vultures. She sat on the padded exam table, her wrists and ankles loosely cuffed to keep her from bolting. Not that she had the strength to try—her skeletal frame and glazed pink eyes told me that much.

She hadn’t stopped trembling since we’d brought her in.

Her crimson hair hung in matted, filthy strands over her face, and her pink eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal’s, never lingering on one thing for too long. The horns curving from her head were the only part of her that seemed unyielding.

“You’re sure it’s alive?” one of the medics muttered to his colleague, squinting at the gaunt figure slumped before them.

“She’s breathing, isn’t she?” one of the medics said, squinting at her gaunt figure like she was a fascinating specimen.

“Barely,” his colleague replied, leaning in with a penlight. The bright beam flashed across her eyes, and she flinched violently, letting out a low, guttural growl.

“Careful,” I warned from my spot by the wall.

Both medics jumped, as if realizing for the first time that I was still there. One of them straightened, his tablet clutched to his chest. “Of course. We’re just running basic diagnostics. Nothing invasive.”

The examination was grueling, even with the medic and techs working quickly.

They scanned her body with handheld devices, cataloging every scar, every burn, every jagged rune carved into her flesh. She flinched at every touch, her claws twitching against her cuffs, her tail lashing intermittently against the cot.

“She’s been through a lot,” one of the techs muttered, their voice soft. “These sigils... they’re not all summoning runes. Some are for control. They were carving commands into her.”

“She’s been starved for weeks,” another added. “Both physically and emotionally. I’m surprised she hasn’t collapsed.”

“She’s surviving,” I said sharply. “That’s what matters.”

The medic frowned, gesturing toward the stumps where her wings had been severed. “Not unscathed. These are bad. Whoever did this wasn’t just trying to hurt her—they were trying to punish, maybe even destroy her.”

My chest tightened as I glanced at her back. The wounds were raw and jagged, the skin around them swollen and angry. Her breathing hitched as the medic reached for the stumps, her tail snapping hard against the cot.

“Don’t,” I said quickly, stepping forward. I placed a hand on her arm, meeting her gaze. “You’re okay. They’re just looking.”

Her pink eyes locked on mine, wary and distrustful, but she didn’t pull away.

“Make it fast,” I said, turning back to the medic. “She’s had enough.”

“We’re doing our best,” the medic continued, his tone defensive. “But there’s only so much we can do here. Succubi aren’t exactly considered people under the law. We’re obligated to find a handler for her, and considering you brought her in…”

“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“You brought her in,” the other medic said with a shrug. “So she’s yours to handle. She needs regular feeding and monitoring, and without that, she’ll die. If you’re not up for it, we can put her down—”

“No.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. Both medics flinched.

The one with the tablet held up his hands. “Hey, just stating the options. But since you’re taking responsibility, we’ll process the paperwork for you to fill out. In the meantime, she needs to be cleaned up. She’s, uh...” He wrinkled his nose. “Ripe.”

“Be careful with her,” I said firmly.

The medics didn’t answer. Instead, they moved to undo her cuffs, and the second they touched her restraints, the succubus exploded into motion. She lunged forward as much as the cuffs allowed, baring her teeth and letting out a feral snarl that echoed through the med bay.

“Easy, easy,” one of them said, raising his hands as if calming a cornered dog.

She didn’t calm. Her pink eyes flared with panic, and her breathing grew ragged as she tried to press herself further into the table, away from their hands. Her growling deepened into something guttural, almost primal.

The other medic sighed. “She’s not going to cooperate. Just hose her down.”

My stomach turned. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s standard procedure for hostile non-humans,” the medic said with a shrug. “She’s more animal than person right now. This isn’t exactly new territory for us.”

“She’s not an animal,” I said, stepping forward.

“She’s not cooperating,” he shot back.

“Back off,” I snapped, my voice echoing off the walls.

The medics hesitated, glancing at each other. When I didn’t move, they relented, stepping aside with muttered complaints.

I approached the succubus cautiously, keeping my hands visible. Her growling softened slightly, but her claws twitched at her sides, and her pink eyes tracked my every movement.

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“Hey,” I said softly, keeping my voice low. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out of here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Her pink eyes darted to mine, sharp and mistrustful.

“I’m going to take these off,” I said, gesturing to the cuffs. “Slowly.”

Her growling softened slightly, though her posture remained rigid.

One by one, I undid the restraints, letting the cuffs clatter to the floor. The moment she was free, she curled into herself, pressing her back against the exam table like a cornered animal.

“You’re okay,” I murmured, holding out a hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Just you and me. No restraints, no medics. Promise.”

Her gaze flicked to the door, then back to me. Slowly, she slid off the table, her knees buckling under her weight. I caught her before she hit the floor, her skin cold and clammy against mine.

“Take your time,” I said, steadying her.

The walk to the showers was even slower than I expected.

Every step was an ordeal for her, her thin legs trembling under the effort. She clung to my arm like a lifeline, her claws digging into my sleeve with surprising strength. Her head hung low, her shoulders hunched, and every sound in the facility made her flinch.

The shower room was quieter, the light softer, the air thick with steam. It was a relief after the clinical harshness of the medbay, though her tension lingered like a shadow. She hovered in the doorway, her hooves clicking faintly against the tile as she shifted her weight. Her claws flexed against her cuffs, and her pink eyes darted toward the stream of water hissing from the showerhead.

“It’s just water,” I said gently, turning to face her. “Warm, gentle. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Her tail flicked behind her, brushing lightly against the frame of the door. She sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling slightly, but she didn’t move closer.

“It’ll help,” I added, stepping aside so she could see the water cascading over the tiles. “You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”

She didn’t respond, but her claws stopped flexing. Her gaze lingered on the water, cautious and calculating, as though trying to decipher some hidden threat. Then, slowly, she took a step forward, her hooves clicking against the tile with a faint metallic ring.

When the spray hit her arm, she flinched violently, letting out a sharp, guttural snarl. Her claws snapped upward, slashing at the air, but there was nothing to fight.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said quickly, holding up my hands. “It’s just water. See?”

I stepped under the stream, letting the warm water soak into my clothes. The fabric clung uncomfortably to my skin, but I stayed where I was, turning slightly to show her the water running over my arms.

“See?” I said again. “It’s safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

She stared at me, her pink eyes narrowing. Then, cautiously, she extended her arm into the stream. Her claws twitched as the water trickled over her skin, and her tail lashed once, but she didn’t pull back.

“That’s it,” I murmured, stepping aside to give her more space. “You’re doing great.”

She stepped fully under the water, her body trembling as the warmth seeped into her skin. Her hair, matted and tangled, darkened under the spray, clinging to her shoulders. The water streamed over her scars, tracing the jagged lines of the runes carved into her flesh, and for a moment, she just stood there, her breathing slow and uneven.

I grabbed the soap, lathering it carefully in my hands. “Can I help?” I asked softly. “Just to get the worst of it?”

Her gaze flicked to me, sharp and wary. For a moment, I thought she might lash out again, but she didn’t. She stayed where she was, her claws curling slightly as if bracing herself.

I started with her arms, working slowly and gently. Her skin was rough beneath my fingers, the scars raised and uneven, the runes gleaming faintly as the soap washed over them. When I reached her shoulders, she flinched, her tail snapping against the wall.

“You can tell me to stop,” I said quietly. “If you want me to stop, just pull away.”

She didn’t move, though the tension in her body remained. I continued carefully, avoiding the raw, jagged stumps where her wings had been severed. The sight of them made my chest tighten, but I kept my expression neutral.

“You’re safe,” I murmured, rinsing the soap away. “Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

I moved to her hair next, running water through the matted strands until they began to loosen. The tangles were stubborn, and every pull made her flinch and bare her teeth.

“Sorry,” I said softly. “I know it hurts.”

She growled faintly, a sound that might have been agreement.

“Almost done,” I promised, rinsing the last of the soap from her hair. The deep red strands gleamed faintly in the light, their natural luster starting to return.

I stepped back to let her stand fully under the spray, the water cascading over her face and shoulders. She tilted her head back slightly, her pink eyes closing as if savoring the sensation.

For a moment, the tension in her body melted away, her rigid posture softening.

Then I turned off the water, and she tensed immediately, her claws scraping against the tiled wall.

“Easy,” I said, holding up a hand. “We’re done. See? All clean.”

She blinked at me, water dripping from her hair and horns. Her lips parted slightly, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. There was barely a shift in her posture before she lunged.

Her claws raked over my skin, her breath hot and ragged against my neck. Her movements were frantic, her hands clumsy as they clutched at my chest, trying to pull me closer.

“Hey,” I said, catching her wrists gently but firmly. “What are you doing?”

She growled softly, twisting against my grip, her claws scraping faintly against my skin. Her pink eyes burned with desperation, and I could feel the hunger radiating off her in waves. It was raw, primal, and overwhelming. She pressed closer, her movements growing more frantic, and I knew she wasn’t going to stop on her own as her hands fumbled with my waistband.

“Okay,” I said softly, tilting my head to expose the curve of my neck. “Not like that. Here. I know you can feed on my energy reserves as well.”

Her movements stilled and her gaze flicked to my neck, the glow in her eyes flickering faintly. She hesitated, her breath warm against my skin, before leaning in.

Her lips brushed my neck, soft and trembling. The pull was faint at first, a gentle tug that sent a shiver down my spine. My runes flared faintly in response, their edges warming under her touch. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, but it left me lightheaded, as though she were unraveling something deep inside me, thread by thread.

Her claws rested lightly against my arms now, her grip no longer frantic but steady. Her breathing slowed, the desperation easing as she fed.

“That’s enough,” I murmured after a moment when I started getting light-headed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay now.”

She pulled back slowly, her lips parting from my neck with a soft, shuddering sigh. Her pink eyes met mine, the glow dimmer now but still intense. There was no trust there, not yet, but there was something else. Recognition, perhaps. Fragile understanding.

“You did great,” I said softly, guiding her out of the stream. “Let’s get you dry.”

I draped the towel over her shoulders, careful not to move too quickly. She flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away, her claws twitching as I patted her hair dry.

The silence stretched as I worked, broken only by the faint rustle of the towel and her uneven breathing.

When I finished, I stood in front of her, meeting her wary gaze. “Better?” I asked softly.

She didn’t answer, but her posture relaxed slightly, her claws retracting as she clutched the towel around herself.

As I reached to help with the towel, she flinched again, her claws twitching instinctively.

“It's okay” I said, stepping back to give her space. “You can do the rest yourself if you want.”

She stared at the towel around her shoulders for a long moment, her pink eyes flicking between it and me. Then, with a slow, almost mechanical motion, she retreated to the far wall.

I didn’t move, letting her work through the motions at her own pace. Her clawed hands gripped the towel awkwardly as she tried to dry herself, the fabric catching on the ridges of her horns and the jagged edges of her talons. She growled softly under her breath, her frustration palpable.

After a few minutes of fumbling, she froze, her claws flexing against the towel. Her gaze snapped to me, sharp and accusatory, as if daring me to step closer.

“Take your time,” I said, backing toward the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

The growling eased slightly as I put my shirt back on and stepped into the hallway, the door sliding shut behind me. I leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly.

She wasn’t just feral—she was terrified. Every movement, every sound seemed to set her on edge, her instincts screaming for fight or flight. And yet, beneath all that, there was something else.

She hadn’t lashed out badly. She could’ve, but she didn’t.

That had to count for something.

I gave her a few minutes before knocking lightly on the door. “You okay in there?”

No answer.

“Can I come in?”

There was a faint scraping sound, followed by a low huff. I took that as permission and stepped inside.

She was huddled in the corner, the towel draped over her shoulders like a makeshift cloak. Her hooves clattered softly against the tile as she shifted, her pink eyes glaring at me from beneath damp strands of crimson hair.

“Better?” I asked, crouching to meet her gaze.

Her lips curled slightly, not quite a snarl but close. She didn’t answer, but the tension in her shoulders seemed less pronounced.

“Good,” I said, standing. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, and get you something to wear as well.”

She hesitated as I gestured toward the door, her claws gripping the edge of the towel. For a moment, her pink eyes narrowed, darting between me and the hallway beyond.

“It’s safe,” I said gently. “Just me and you. No one else. I promise.”

Her claws twitched, the faint scraping sound of their tips against the towel filling the silence. Slowly, she stepped forward, her hooves clicking softly against the tile as she followed me out of the shower room.