Succubus Diaries: 7. The Market Shame and the Witch

The marketplace was louder today.

Stalls clattered open, merchants barked their prices, women in shawls jostled past with baskets brimming, children darted underfoot. To anyone else it was noise, bustle, ordinary life. But to her? It was unbearable.

Every voice was a moan. Every body was a pulse. Every brush of a sleeve against hers sent sparks racing between her thighs. She had thought the alley incident yesterday was the worst of it, but this—this was torment.

The hunger wasn’t creeping anymore. It was roaring.

She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, head down, pretending she could blend. But it didn’t help. Her nipples were stiff beneath her bodice, her thighs slick, and every step left a wet trail between her legs.

People noticed.

A man selling apples paused mid-shout, eyes snagging on her flushed cheeks, the way her mouth parted as if she were gasping. A woman carrying bread glanced down, following the dark patch spreading on her