Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!

Melisa pressed herself against the wagon wheel, holding her breath. Heavy footsteps approached.

"Probably just a rat," one of the darians said. "This place is crawling with them."

"Check anyway."

[Fuck fuck fuck.]

The footsteps got closer. Melisa's mind raced through spell options. She could try the invisibility spell, but it took too long to cast. Fire shield would give away her position. Maybe if she—

"Blood Sister returns!"

The shout echoed across the camp. The approaching footsteps stopped.

"Already? The patrol wasn't supposed to—"

"She's injured. Get the healers!"

All thoughts of investigating suspicious noises forgotten, the darians rushed away. Melisa stayed frozen for another heartbeat before scrambling out from behind the wagon.

[Injured? Who did they fight?]

Whatever the case, she was absolutely going to take the convenient timing.

She followed the flow of bodies toward the camp entrance. Warriors crowded around, making it hard to see. But she caught glimpses—armor splattered with blood, weapons being passed off to attendants.

Then she saw Sirah.

The darian warrior stood tall despite the gash across her shoulder, blood painting her armor in abstract patterns. Her red hair stuck to her face with sweat and gore. Those blue eyes found Melisa in the crowd immediately.

A slow smile spread across Sirah's face.

[Please don't be my friends' blood. Please don't be my friends' blood.]

"My prize," Sirah called out, her voice carrying over the noise. "Come."

It wasn't a request.

Melisa pushed through the crowd, trying to read something—anything—in Sirah's expression. Had they attacked the Syux camp? Was that Isabella's blood on her sword?

Inside Sirah's tent, the warrior started stripping off her armor without ceremony. Each piece hit the ground with a wet thud.

"Help me," Sirah said.

Melisa didn't move.

"I said help me." Sirah's voice dropped dangerously.

"Whose blood is that?"

Sirah paused, looking at Melisa with something between amusement and annoyance.

"Enemies."

"What enemies? Where?"

"You ask many questions for a concubine."

"I'm not your concubine."

Sirah laughed, wincing as the movement pulled at her shoulder wound.

"No? Then what are you?"

[Good question.]

"Someone who's not going to do anything for you until you tell me who you fought."

The tent fell silent. Sirah's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Bandits," she said finally. "On the eastern road. They thought to ambush us."

Relief flooded through Melisa so fast it made her dizzy. Not her friends. Not the Syux camp.

"Now," Sirah said, her voice low and dangerous. "Help me, or I'll find another use for you."

Melisa moved forward, helping Sirah out of the blood-soaked leather. The wound on her shoulder looked bad—deep but clean. It would scar.

"You need a healer," Melisa said.

"Later." Sirah grabbed Melisa's wrist, pulling her close. "First, I need you."

The kiss that followed was violent, all teeth and dominance. Melisa tasted copper—blood from a split lip. Sirah's hands were already working at Melisa's clothes.

"No," Melisa said, pulling back.

Sirah stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

"No?"

"You're injured. You need—"

"I need to fuck," Sirah growled. "Battle makes the blood sing. You will satisfy me."

"I won't."

The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Sirah's expression cycled through confusion, anger, and something else Melisa couldn't identify.

"You refuse me?"

"I do."

[Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me.]

Sirah released her, stepping back. For a moment, Melisa thought she might actually strike her. Instead, the darian laughed.

"Interesting." She sat heavily on the furs, pressing a hand to her wounded shoulder. "Very well. Send the healers when you leave."

Melisa blinked.

"That's... it?"

"Would you prefer I force you?" Sirah's smile was sharp. "I could. But where's the satisfaction in mounting an unwilling mate?"

"I assume most here wouldn't care."

"I'm not most." Sirah lay back on the furs, closing her eyes. "Go. Before I change my mind."

Melisa didn't need to be told twice. She ducked out of the tent, nearly colliding with a nim carrying medical supplies. It was funny, given that Melisa could obviously just heal Sirah herself, but, well, she didn't mind getting a little more alone time.

"She needs help," Melisa said.

The nim nodded and hurried inside. Melisa stood there for a moment, processing what just happened.

[Wow. She let me go. She actually let me say no.]

Strange.

---

{Raven}

Miles away, in the Syux military camp, Captain Fenris spread a map across the table.

"The darian camp is here," she said, marking the location. "Based on our scouts' reports, they have between eighty and a hundred warriors."

"Against our thirty," Armia said.

"Twenty-eight," Fenris corrected. "We lost two."

Isabella's tail swished anxiously.

"So when do we move?"

"We don't. Not yet."

"What?" Isabella's voice pitched high. "Every second we wait—"

"Every second we wait is a second they're not expecting us," Fenris interrupted. "Right now, they know we want her back. They'll have doubled the guards, tripled the patrols. We need to let them relax."

"How long?" Raven asked.

Captain Fenris took a moment to think about it.

"Three days. Maybe four."

"Four days?" Isabella looked ready to explode. "You want to leave Melisa with those brutes for four days?"

"I want to get her back alive," Fenris said. "Rushing in now is suicide. Regardless of the plan we go for."

Armia considered it and then sighed.

Raven, on the other hand, was considering whether she should just go get Melisa on her own.

"I guess you're not too wrong. We need them complacent."

"Besides," Fenris added, studying the map. "We need time to prepare. This distraction of yours—it needs to be perfect. One mistake and we're all dead."

Isabella deflated slightly.

"Fine. But if anything happens to her..."

"It won't," Captain Fenris replied. "Trust me."

Fenris rolled up the map.

"Get some rest. Tomorrow we start preparations. And remember—no one acts without my order. Understood?"

The three girls nodded reluctantly.

As they left the command tent, Isabella grabbed Raven's arm.

"You really think she's okay?"

Raven considered the question.

"She's alive, probably. That's what matters."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

They walked in silence back to their tents. Above them, stars glittered in the cold night sky.

[Hold on, Melisa,] Raven thought. [We're coming.]