The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting the room in muted gold. I blinked awake, my head heavy against the headboard. The stiffness in my neck reminded me I hadn’t slept well, but the faint warmth against my side made me hesitate before shifting.

She was still asleep.

She lay curled on her side, her tail draped over her legs. Her face, relaxed and unguarded, was turned toward me, her eyes closed. The light caught her horns, polished black and curving gently upward, and I felt a faint, dull pressure where one nudged my ribs. Her hair, smooth and wild all at once, brushed against my arm.

Her claws, which had so often scraped against wood, metal, and anything else within reach, were nowhere to be seen. Her hands rested lightly on the blanket, fingers half-curled, relaxed in a way that almost made her look... human.

I glanced toward the nightstand and carefully reached for my datapad. My arm brushed her shoulder as I moved, and she stirred slightly, her head shifting to rest more fully against me. I froze as the pressure of her horns shifted against my ribs, poking me more insistently. Her warmth seeped through the thin blanket separating us, and her breath came soft and steady against my side.

I exhaled slowly, settling back into place and opening the datapad. Moving her would have felt wrong, and besides, she looked peaceful. For her, maybe this was progress.

Flipping through my search tabs, I went back to my notes. Everything I’d found on succubi was fragmented, written more like rumors than fact. Some texts emphasized their reliance on feeding, which wasn’t just about raw energy—it tied to pleasure, closeness, even intimacy. Others noted their heightened senses during times of vulnerability and how their claws retracted when they felt less threatened.

I glanced at her hands. No claws. At least in that regard the document was on point.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, a faint murmur escaping her lips as her tail twitched. I let my gaze linger on her face for a moment before returning to the datapad. The idea that she might actually be starting to feel safe here was... satisfying, even if she’d never admit it.

Time passed slowly, marked by the faint hum of the city beyond the walls. My datapad slipped into idle mode, but I barely noticed. Her horns nudged me again as she shifted, her head pressing more firmly against my side.

She stirred, her breathing hitching, and her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she didn’t move, her gaze hazy and unfocused as she took in her surroundings. Then her eyes locked on me, and she froze.

“Morning,” I said softly, keeping my voice light.

Her tail flicked against the blanket as she sat up, her hands gripping the fabric. She didn’t growl, but her gaze darted away, sharp and uncertain.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded faintly, her claws twitching once before retracting again. She refused to meet my eyes, maybe embarrassed? I didn't know.

“Good. You hungry?”

Her ears twitched, and her gaze flicked back to me, her expression softening slightly.

“Stay here if you want. I’ll prepare something and call you when I'm ready,” I said, standing and stretching. Her eyes tracked me as I moved toward the door, but she didn’t immediately move to follow. Progress.

Breakfast was quiet. I kept it simple—toast, leftover pizza, and some fruit I wasn’t sure she’d eat. All we had left, really. She sat across from me, her tail wrapped loosely around the chair leg. Her hands were steadier now, her claws retracted as she picked at the toast with delicate movements.

She didn’t say anything—not that she could—but she didn’t need to. The tension in her shoulders was lighter, her movements less rigid. When she caught me watching her claws, she paused for a moment, flexing her fingers as though testing them.

“You don’t always need claws to defend yourself,” I said, biting into my toast. “But I think you’re starting to figure that out.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t growl or look away.

Later, back in the bedroom, the faint grime clinging to my skin caught up with me. I glanced at her as I grabbed a fresh shirt and boxers from the dresser. “I’m going to shower,” I said. “Won’t be long. You’ll be fine here.”

Her ears twitched, and her tail curled tighter around her leg, but she didn’t follow as I walked to the bathroom.

I let the hot water wash over me, scrubbing away the sweat and dirt that still clung to me from the mission. The familiar routine of showering brought a small comfort, a chance to reset my mind and body.

The sound of claws against wood made me freeze.

The scratching came again, rhythmic and frantic, followed by a faint, almost guttural whimper. My chest tightened as I reached for the towel. “Hold on,” I called, shutting off the water and wrapping the towel loosely around my torso.

I opened the door to find her standing there, her claws pressed against the wood. Her tail lashed sharply behind her, and her eyes burned brightly with panic. She froze as soon as she saw me, her claws retracting slightly.

“I was just showering,” I said gently, stepping back to give her space. “I told you I’d be back.”

Her breathing hitched, and her gaze darted to the floor.

“You thought I’d left,” I said, the realization sinking in. “I wasn’t leaving. I told you—you’re safe here. That doesn’t change if I’m in another room.”

Her claws flexed once but stayed retracted after as she took a step back, her tail curling against her leg. She looked away, but her shoulders slumped, the tension easing just slightly.

“Go back to the bedroom,” I said, my voice soft. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking back to mine before she turned and padded toward the bedroom.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind me, I barely had time to process her expression before I noticed where her gaze had locked.

Her eyes, sharp and focused, weren’t on my face. They were lower, fixed on my cleavage. The towel slung loosely around my shoulders left me bare from the waist up, and the weight of her stare felt almost tangible.

She tilted her head slightly, her lips parting just enough to reveal a flash of her fangs. Her tail swished behind her, slow and deliberate, and though her hands remained on the bed, I noticed her claws flex, faintly retracting again.

“Hey,” I said softly, leaning against the doorframe. Her gaze didn’t shift. I cleared my throat. “My face is up here, you know.”

Her eyes flicked upward briefly, meeting mine with an expression that wasn’t quite defiant but wasn’t apologetic either.

The lingering heat in her gaze made something click in my mind. She wasn’t ogling—at least, not entirely. This was hunger, the same kind I’d seen before, tempered now by something more deliberate. I remembered what I’d read earlier: feeding wasn’t just about energy; it thrived on pleasure, desire, and the intimacy of it.

Her tail twitched again, curling slightly as her eyes drifted downward once more. She wasn’t moving closer, didn't even make a sound, but I could feel the weight of her need, her instincts pushing against the fragile line we’d drawn.

“Not this way,” I said quietly, wrapping the towel more securely around my shoulders. “Not yet.”

Her ears twitched at my words, her gaze narrowing as though measuring my tone.

“You need to feed, I get it. But for now...” I crossed the room, grabbing the shirt I’d left draped over the chair. “We’re keeping it simple. Energy only.”

Her claws twitched faintly against the bedspread, her tail flicking sharply once before stilling. I pulled the shirt over my head, feeling her gaze track every movement. When I turned back to face her, her expression was guarded, conflicted, but not angry. Her claws hadn’t extended again, and her breathing was slow, steady.

“I’m not saying no,” I added carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But this is new—for both of us. We’ll take it one step at a time.” I didn't think going to the more... extreme measures of feeding a succubus were something I could stomach just yet. I couldn't even stomach truly thinking about it.

She tilted her head again, her eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. But instead, she leaned back slightly, her tail curling loosely around her leg.

“Come here,” I said gently, tilting my head and flaring the faint glow of the runes etched into my skin.

Her gaze lingered on my neck, her claws retracting completely now as she shifted closer. The air between us felt heavier as she leaned in, her breath warm against my skin. Her magic stirred faintly, brushing against mine in a hesitant, cautious motion.

“That’s it,” I murmured, closing my eyes as the pull began. "Just like before."

The connection was softer this time, less desperate. Her hands rested lightly on my arm, and her tail draped across the bed, its restless flicking finally stilled. She wasn’t taking much, just enough to sate the edge of her hunger.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes met mine, quieter now, though the hunger hadn’t entirely faded.

“You’re okay,” I said, leaning back slightly. “Better?”

She nodded, her lips parting as though to speak, but no sound came other than a small huff. Instead, she sat back on the bed, her hands resting lightly in her lap. I didn't notice at the time how much more human that nod looked compared to barely a day earlier.

I reached for the towel to finish drying my hair, pretending not to notice the way her gaze lingered on me again. I wasn’t sure where this path would lead, but for now, it was enough that we’d kept things steady.

“Let’s try to make it through the rest of the day without clawing at doors or each other,” I said lightly, earning a faint flick of her tail.