Akasha grumbled as she stared at the mangled corpse of some unknown farmer, batlike wings folded behind her, though twitching annoyedly. The eyes of a dozen or so peasants were upon her moonlit form, all of them keeping a respectful distance from the demoness. Dark clouds slowly traversed the midnight sky, hiding the full moon above.
"Found 'im like this, we did, Your Royal Highness," said Hengled, the draper's assistant, a youth of no more than nineteen winters. He made sure to use the title she'd given herself when she took over the abandoned castle. "Corpse all shredded, seems like," he added, looking up briefly at the grey-skinned succubus, black hair flowing down to her fat, round rump barely hidden by the thong-like armor she wore.
The lad had some difficulty keeping his eyes from the vast expanse of grey cleavage before him, risking a few glances at those mountainous orbs even though he knew the punishment for such behavior.
"And no one has seen anything?" the demoness inquired, looking down at the young man briefly, her already impressive height accentuated by near-vertical stilettos. "Has living under my protection made you all stupid? Weak? Blind?" she asked, turning her commanding voice to those watching.
Hengled shook his head.
"Were it not for me, Rovistrad would have fallen and suffered the same fate as all those other villages in the Heidstadt. You all know the parameters of this arrangement," continued the curvaceous fiend, her tail swishing slowly behind her. "You allow me to feed every few days, and in turn, I keep the night creatures at bay. However, if none of you raise the alarm when one of them approaches, I can't do my job," she reminded them, trying desperately to calm herself.
The peasants in the village looked at each other and at the guardsmen holding their spears, eyes downcast in shame like children being scolded by their mother.
Akasha sighed. "I came down here to feed tonight, not to play detective."
The villagers had given her a title in recent years: the Queen of Pain. Those who were visited by her at night would tell tales of the torments they endured under her -- but also the indescribable pleasure. No one held any love for their fiendish protector, and she held as much love for them as one did cattle. They were a necessity, a source of food.
Unlike typical succubae, her feeding process did not require her to end her victim's life. Sometimes, if one of her meals proved more than adequate, she would bring them up to her castle for a few days at a time, locking them up in her dungeons or her room. Most of the time, however, she would simply swoop down and pick a target randomly, satisfying her urges with them until dawn.
"I saw a shadow," the trembling voice of an old woman said behind the crowd. The people around her parted. "It made its way North after its kill," the ancient woman added, pointing to a foggy street.
Before anyone could look back to Akasha, she had taken flight, intent on punishing the creature who'd harmed her flock.
Dried blood caked Balanar's mouth and claws as his midnight-blue form whipped past the dead trees of the valley, heading to his lair where he could wait out the sunlight. The sun weakened him to such a degree that it could very much kill him if he weren't careful. Here, however, even the midday sun remained hidden behind a permanent grey sky. Still, he was unfamiliar with this new world. Until he had properly assessed the humans' defenses, chances were not to be taken.
The cave he had chosen as his lair proved sufficient for the time being and allowed him to store any kills he made to feast on later. The villager he'd recently slain, however, could not have been brought. The presence of another force, similar to his, had prompted him to abandon the corpse and seek shelter.
Risking a fight when the first rays of dawn were near was not something he could do.
His violent urges kept him awake during that day and the soft light that bounced off the damp walls of the cave burned his eyes.
Just when the sun's rays weakened, he heard the flapping of wings outside his lair. A silhouette approached. A woman.
Balanar hissed, unable to make out the details of this unknown being but sensing her power, nonetheless. This winged individual was the one he'd felt earlier in that pathetic human village. Their protector?
Barely had he thought of who this stranger was that he heard the whistling of a dagger and a sharp pain at his side. A wild cackling erupted from the woman, and he could now see her clearly. Like him, her wings were bat-like, but that's where the similarities began and ended. Though her curvaceous form sported a few demonic traits, her face was undoubtedly human in nature.
Glancing at her overly generous bust and wide hips, he felt a stirring in his loins, but the sight of another dagger materializing in her palm triggered his flight response. He beat his wings once and pushed against the stone of the cavern, powerful leg muscles flexing as he moved past her. Not as fast as he'd hoped, and the sting of metal penetrated his flesh.
A burning in his veins accompanied the laughter of the woman as he dashed out of the cave and into the woods. Could it have been the humiliation of the moment or something else?
It took little time for him to figure out the answer to that question when his muscles began tensing. Every movement became labored, as though iron chains held his every limb. Balanar found that he could no longer move, frozen in place like a statue. While other creatures would turn to ash or stone when exposed to sunlight, Balanar's flesh held no such weaknesses. Then why was he stuck in place, unable to move a single muscle?
Poison, thought the hunter, his ears picking up the slow, deliberate steps of the unknown woman behind him. He could not call out to her, could not reply to her amused laughter. Her presence radiated pure lust and sadism.
"Now, why would a handsome devil like yourself run away from little old me?" the taunting Akasha said, wings flapping excitedly behind her. Her full lips curled into a devious smile as she inspected his muscular form. Only his lower half was covered by any semblance of armor, reddish metallic plates linked together to protect his form.
The blue-skinned night creature's glowing green eyes wandered downwards at the enormous, jiggling masses of grey titmeat, only a few feet from him now.
