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The succubus purses her lips before drawing a sip from the stein. “Suit yourself.” She takes her beer and heads back to her seat, her naked breasts swaying as she saunters across the floor.
She doesn’t need me—or anyone—right now. Her energy has been newly restored, if the mix of bodily fluids coating the insides of her thighs is any indication.
The scent of her and her partner’s release is a heady thing.
It’s a familiar scent—one that once would have stirred things in me. In the past, I would have happily accompanied the succubus to a private room—or even have her ride me right here on the couch.
I could sink my fangs into her breast—maybe bend her over the arm and thrust into her from behind… I frown down at my lap. Even fantasizing about it does nothing for me.
These days, I feel nothing.
Not a fucking thing.
It’s not just the succubus I’ve lost interest in—it’s all of them: succubus, human, vampire, demon.
Everyone.
Ever since the severing of my unity bond, that piece of me has lost all life. Fucking witches.
This is their curse.
Fuck their claims that they were trying to create harmony. This is what they planned when they created that damned unity ritual. It’s pure torture. Torture with no end.
I’ve tried to get past their magic and get my rocks off—gods know I’ve tried—but that particular part of me is broken.
They don’t make Vampire Viagra.
If they did, I’d own stock in the company.
No… there is no magical or medicinal substitute for feeding from a unity bonded witch. It is pure euphoric bliss. And once you’re bound and have tasted ambrosia, there’s no going back to the way things were.
My world has been drained of the entire spectrum of colors, leaving me nothing but shades of gray.
Not even the titillation of watching others in the act does it for me anymore. Though that doesn’t mean I don’t still watch. There is never a lack of voyeuristic entertainment within the club.
Like the couple I have my eye on now.
Arlo and Hannah—sitting at the table closest to me—are a hot and heavy peepshow of pleasure. Arlo has been one of my horde for a half century now, and Hannah, the leather-clad woman kneeling at Arlo’s feet, has been his bonded Sun Witch since the beginning. Her magic is just as potent as the succubus’ scent, and even more impossible to ignore.
In the early days of their bond, Hannah was resistant to the connection—as all witches were. It took time, and patience, but the spell worked its magic and now the two of them are genuine lovers—the completion of each of their needs.
Hannah gazes up at him with glazed-over adoration. Her hands are clasped lightly behind her back, pushing her chest out as she waits for her master’s command, half lost in the euphoric bliss of a recent feeding.
Arlo is lucky to have found a unity bond that works well.
I am happy for him—and fucking jealous.
My mate wanted nothing to do with me. Most Sun Witches are reluctant to the forced bond. Some vampires too, at first. Until they get their first taste of the sweet nectar that is the blood of a unity bound mate.
It is an entirely different experience than tapping into the vein of any common witch. The only way I know how to describe drinking from a Unity Witch is more.
Everything about it is more.
It is like consuming only fast-food burgers—only knowing fast-food burgers—and then being treated to the finest, most luxurious cut of Wagyu beef, prepared so delicately that it melts on your tongue.
There is no going back to bland fast-food burgers after such a heavenly experience.
I had that once… briefly.
