Soldier or Saint

Can he resist her or she him?

She is there, in a side room off the chapel. Consecrated ground, crosses and holy water mean nothing to her; she is from a time before the monastery’s religion was born.

“Alexandre Francis. Are you a soldier or a saint?” She steps towards me, the black satin dress slipping a little further off her shoulders until it seems to cling to the round swellings of her breasts as if clutching at her nipples.

“I used to be a soldier but I don’t think I was ever a saint.” I hold her gaze and feel myself being drawn into her dark eyes. I blink hard, freeing myself for a moment from her allure. She is closer. In the second my eyes had been hidden she had covered perhaps twenty paces across the floor without making a sound.

“So, are you a protector of the people?” her voice is syrupy smooth.

She lifts her hand, her fingers topped by sharp, perfectly manicured red nails stretching out towards me. “Can you even protect yourself from me?” she hisses.

Her fingers brush my cheek whilst her other hand claws at my robe, pulling it up until, slipping under the hem it grasps at hard flesh. I sigh, her magic is potent, it turns men’s fear into lust, draining the energy from their limbs and channelling it into one single organ.

I focus my mind and, my hands cupping her buttocks push her back against the wall. She offers no resistance, confident that her prey is succumbing to her.

I enter her, my solid flesh sliding easily into her. She gasps, her head jerks back as if an electric shock has pulsed through her. “You are one of us,” she brings her fingers up to her lips as if tasting the scent of my flesh.

“No,” I thrust deeper into her as if impaling her on a sword. “A long time ago one of your kind and one of mine mated. I am human but the blood still runs in me.”

Now she is the prey and I am the predator. I concentrate my mind, see the maelstrom swirling inside her like a fast moving galaxy. I suck at it. She is powerful but as I draw her toward me one of the tails snakes out like smoke in the wind, pulling from her into me. She screams light pulsing from her body as the energy drains from her, then, in a cloud of falling embers, she is gone.

I feel lightheaded and stagger across the floor. Not through weakness, the power I have absorbed courses through my body. I feel that, if I ignited the seething energy in me I would shoot into the heavens like a human firework. I grasp at the metal chain and wind it tightly around my wrist until it bites into my skin. Dark red blood coats the rings. I whisper the words taught to me by the old monk many years ago and release the power. The chain jerks as it arcs down to earth. Absorbed back into nature, it leaves me feeling drained but at least I am human again.

I smooth down my robe and pull the hood over my head.

“Strange life for a monk, don’t you think?” a voice says from the shadows of the doorway. “Fucking women to banish their demons.”

I walk past the monk without replying and head down the passageway.

“How do we know she won’t be back?” the monk calls after me.

I stop and turn. “I am not a monk, that was not a woman, and she will return. If you are lucky it will take her a century to regain the power I have taken from her and you will be dead before she hunts again.”

We may hear more from Alexandre. He is an elusive character who appears in several of my succubus stories. There will be more about him next week.

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