Succubus Diaries: 5. Surrender in the House

The brothel breathed at night.

Candles burned low in iron sconces, their shadows dripping across velvet wallpaper and polished mahogany. Perfume lingered in the air like memory—amber, rose, sweat, wine. The women had all retired, their rooms shut and silent. Only the new mistress walked the halls.

Her heels clicked softly on the carpeted floor, echoing in a rhythm that wasn’t entirely her own. The House wanted her awake, wanted her roaming. Ever since she had fed for the first time—God, that taste still burned on her tongue—something had shifted. Her hunger was sharper, but so was her sense of power.

Now, she felt that she could do anything, face anything and damn the consequences. She was radiating from her recent feeding, and though she was a young girl already, her skin looked more translucent, making her look far younger with an almost ethereal kind of beauty. 

She stopped before the mirror in the main parlor. Gilt frame, tall enough to show her enti