Little Love | Chapter IX (Patreon)

Tristan clutched his knees to his chest, tucked inside one of the many armchairs spread around Lilith’s house. This one was royal purple with silver accents, set beside a fireplace in a room he’d never been inside before.

This was stupid. Useless. He couldn’t hide from Lilith in her own house. He knew that. He knew that, and still he’d wriggled away from her without another word, slid the bunny tail out, redressed, and went searching for somewhere far, far away from her.

The house was enormous. Like a circus maze. Even breaking into a run, reaching one of the final rooms in the hallway took him a solid ten seconds.

He’d slammed the door like a petulant child and searched for a lock before remembering that none of the doors had them. So instead, he dragged his armchair’s twin to block her entrance.

Part of him was waiting for her to phase through the wall. She’d probably had to hunt down other men in the past when they realized what was happening.

She’s a monster.

The thought curled Tristan’s toes, and he shivered.

‘You’d already be dead.’ Lilith’s words went round and round in his head, taunting him, teasing him. Mocking him. Why else would such a beautiful woman be interested in him? Why would she waste two sentences on him, let alone take him to bed?

Leaning his forehead against his knees, he hugged his shins tighter to his chest and tried to remember anything he’d ever read about succubi. Assuming the information was even true, of course. But what else did he have to work with?

You could ask her.

No. She’d lied to him enough already. He didn’t want to hear any more.

So, as he did whenever he felt cornered, he closed his eyes and cleared his head.

A memory of playing an older video game title resurfaced. Succubi with giant bat wings, purple skin, and black hair. They flew around the player in maddening circles while shooting volleys of fire and energy beams. He really hoped that Lilith wouldn’t burn down the wall to get to him.

Pushing the thought aside, he vaguely recalled a woman named Lilith mentioned in a religious sense. Where or why was too blurry to pull from. Abandoning the thought, he moved on.

A silver miniature in his hand. Surfing for information on the school’s computer. That’s right. This memory felt ancient. He’d done some research for a tabletop game with a succubus enemy type. A dungeon master could use them to give his players salacious dreams, tempt them, and potentially draw on their health or mana pools.

As ridiculous as it sounded, it was the most likely answer. Almost every time they’d been intimate together, the whole room would grow unbearably hot, and he would fall back asleep after climaxing. It was the first time in his life that he’d been so tired so often. Before Lilith, there were countless nights when he’d go to work, then finish his homework, only to catch two hours of sleep and do it all over again. Even when he was sick, he didn’t need more than a few hours of extra rest.

Another tremor slid down his spine. How would drinking from his ‘health points’ translate in a literal sense? Maybe it was as simple as he needed more sleep or required more food. He’d eaten more in Lilith’s care than ever and he hadn’t gained a pound.

He buried the balls of his feet deeper into the velvet cushion as he considered the alternative: the chilling possibility that she was actually stealing away his life.

Turning his head to the side, Tristan stared into the vacant fireplace. A silver grate with sharp, arrow-shaped tips pointed upward, cradling a fresh log that he wished he could ignite. It was so cold. He couldn’t stop shivering, and tears were beginning to cloud his vision. No. Don’t cry. Men don’t cry. His father’s voice gripped his chest and shook away the blur. The same demand had stopped Tristan from crying when the very man who said it had vanished, and he wasn’t about to give in now.

It was just…would he always have to be so damn alone?

One tear fell. He quickly wiped it away on the palm of his hand and sniffed against his knee.

“Tristan?”

Despite the gentleness of Lilith’s call, the sound startled him. Tristan receded farther back inside the chair.

A delicate sigh. “I assume an apology is painfully belated.”

“You can say that again,” he grumbled so only his legs could hear.

“While the anger you feel is justified, I hope there is some part of you that can understand why I would not reveal my true form to you sooner,” Lilith continued. “You see…traditionally, when I bring a man to my domain, our relationship lasts less than a fortnight.”

Two weeks?! That information wasn’t comforting at all. Goosebumps sprouted across Tristan’s arms, legs, and back.

“However, with you, I… I have enjoyed my time with you, Tristan. Immensely. Perhaps too much.” A soft tapping against the door suggested that Lilith had laid her hand against it, long nails caressing the wood. “You are free to remain angry with me. Hate me if you must.” The pain he’d seen on her face leaked into her words. “But I do not wish for you to fear me. Not when you have come so handsomely into your own confidence.”

Tristan worked at his lower lip with his teeth. He hated this. Outside of Ivy, Lilith had been the kindest person he’d ever met.

“I will not take your life, Tristan, and I will answer whatever questions you may have for me. Truthfully and entirely.” How was it that she could sound so distraught? It tore at Tristan’s chest and clawed at his heart. “I will wait for you. Find me when you are ready.”

Tristan’s legs moved before his mind could object. Lilith had bathed him, fed him, unearthed his deepest desires, and sated them. His bare feet slapped against the tile, and his shivering hands sank into the fabric of the armchair blocking the door. They’d spent every night together, watching movies and playing games and cuddling. The chair screeched across the floor as he pushed, and his palms burned pink with the effort. He’d felt safe with her and had been ready to give up on his dreams to stay.

Was she really a monster?

Throwing the door open, he found Lilith standing beneath the threshold, wide-eyed with surprise. She’d exchanged her leather outfit for a red dress with slits that cut high on her thighs and scooped low on her neck. Additional features had appeared outside of the horns. Black feathers far from the bat-like appendages he’d pictured emerged from her shoulders into magnificent wings, the tips of which brushed the floor. A long, slender tail that ended in a point not dissimilar to the fire grate curled over her hips and coiled around her thigh while she watched Tristan take in the full sight of her.

“Are you… Are you feeding off of me?” Tristan stammered.

“Yes.”

His throat clenched, and he closed his eyes. “Is it killing me?”

“I have applied great care to take only what I need from you,” Lilith said slowly. Tristan braced himself for the worst. “In total, four days have been removed from your lifespan.”

It was far better than he thought she’d say, but it still hurt to know that she’d stolen time away from him without his permission. “Do you know how long I’ll live?”

“Approximately, though that is information for me alone.” Lilith averted her gaze. “It is a good, long life.”

“You said I may grow to love you,” Tristan murmured.

“I did.”

The tears were back, threatening his vision once again. “Because it’s something you want? Or was it another way to manipulate me?”

Lilith smoothed her dress and unwrapped her tail from her leg. “It was a selfish thing to say—”

“No more lies.”

Lilith’s eyes lingered on his face for a time, then she nodded. “I have heard professions of love more times than I can count. However, love is a human emotion. One that I believe is far more complex than the shallow admirations layered upon me.” She reached forward and touched the line of his cheek with her fingertips. He didn’t pull away. “But you, Tristan… You are honest. Kind. You do not give yourself so freely. I…wish to see love through your eyes.”

“But you can never love me?” To his dismay, a tear escaped. Lilith caught it with her thumb.

“Perhaps not in a human sense. Yet, I feel drawn to you and dangerously protective of you. And I can say with complete sincerity, there is not a single word I have spoken with the intent of manipulating you.” She cupped his chin and stroked his face. Another tear fell, and she smiled. “In time, if you choose to stay, I believe I could love you in my own way.”

Tristan clasped his hand over hers, letting his cheek rest in her palm. There was no heat in the room. No weight to her words. He wanted to trust her so badly. Because if he didn’t, his truth would be much harder to swallow.

He was falling in love with her.

“I…I don’t know what to do.” Tristan whispered. When had his tears painted rivers down his face? Every nerve in his body urged him to let go. Give in. Ignore the wings, the horns, the tail. He could survive on her laugh and her lips and her lies as they pretended that this was all completely normal.

“You can take your time to decide.” Lilith stroked her fingers through his hair, catching more of his tears in the hand against his face. “Little love…do you fear me?”

Something about the way she said it—the vulnerable ache in her voice—broke him. Tristan closed the short distance that remained between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. Feathers tickled his forearms, and her satin dress was soft against his cheek. “No.”

Lilith enveloped him in a tight embrace, her wings encasing him like a soft cocoon.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Tristan cried.