Content warning: internalized transphobia, transphobia, parental abuse, self-harm (eating disorders), abuse, excessive violence
Selene sipped on her Pepper Bloody and thought twice about not getting food, as the waitress brought Amelia’s brisket hash and set it on the table, still sizzling. The sunny-side egg dribbling over the smoked brisket, as they melted into one another, smothered in garlic, shallots and ketchup.
Selene nearly swallowed her tongue as she gazed at the meal, almost having a hard time deciding which was more delectable: her girlfriend or the brisket. When Amelia asked for a second plate and began to spread butter onto her sourdough roll and placed the brisket on Selene’s plate, she could have sworn her girlfriend was glowing.
And the way she looked at her. Drinking her in. She almost felt herself go lightheaded.
The cacophony surrounding them barely seemed to break the moment in which the brisket found its home on her plate. She barely remembered shoveling it into her stomach, at first trying to savor the taste as it melted in her mouth, creamy with just the right amount of tang and salt. The brisket basked in the egg’s glow, as the warmth slid down her tongue and the garlic peaked after.
Her girlfriend eyed her dangerously and she realized that Amelia was far more delectable even if this meal was far more satisfying than anything her parents could cook up under the Aydin Boc name. She grimaced, not wanting to think about that right now. How she was turned away for being a failure, for not being enough. For.
They rejected you, Simone!
The words had hummed over in her ears. She had said that, to her sister no less.
As if reading her thoughts, Amelia reached for her hand, not caring who saw. It was still Brooklyn but this was on the rich part of town, not Upper East Side but still neither was dressed for the occasion.
Neither spoke of vampires, or her sisters, or even Amelia’s lost job. This moment was entirely for them. It reminded Selene when they first met, how easy the conversation flowed, but now they each ate in silence, still knowing the other, sneaking a look here and there. It didn’t feel like Selene was trying to catch Amelia anymore. It just felt comfortable.
Or it could have been the subtle buzz of the Bloody as well. Could she actually see a future with her girlfriend?
None of her relationships had lasted this long which wasn’t that long. But still. And what if she did make her into a succubus?
“Selene? You’re staring.”
“I was just thinking about how my girlfriend is so amazing that she decided to take me here.” She couldn’t help it. She was beaming.
“I’d figured after I made you beg that you deserved something for your troubles,” and then to add insult to injury she winked!
And the Bloody went down the wrong pipe. She started coughing, cursing at herself for letting her get under her skin so easily. She was a succubus for goddess’s sake! And yet, she wondered what kind succubus Amelia would make. A very dangerous succubus no doubt. She found herself blushing even harder.
“I think I was the one making you beg, Amelia!”
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Sure you didn’t?” Now it was her turn for her girlfriend to blush. Goddess, that was delectable on her. She wanted to leap across the table and smother her in kisses, but she should behave herself. For now. How was it that she wanted to jump her bones so easily?
Maybe it was Amelia who had the pheromones after all. And then a nagging thought toiled in the back of her mind. How could Amelia afford this meal? She had been fired because of her. Succubus didn't have to eat, they were supposed to be satisfied on souls, and Selene could be around Amelia's soul and never be satisfied just once, or twice, or...she felt dizzy. And yet, Amelia had taken her to this nice restaurant, treated her to a meal that surpassed her parents' name for what? And I was too afraid to order.
"Selene! You can order more if you'd like. It's my treat, honest."
Selene thought of the intense training she had went through, to maintain the body that she was supposed to have. Supposed to make before it was ready for her. All of the binge eating she had done in secret. All of the times she was forced to run right after a meal or forced to eat more to...she swallowed hard and felt sick. Sure succubus could shapeshift parts of their body, but first they had to make it desirable in all facets to the male gaze. In all types of ways.
Fuck that. Selene shuddered, eying the brisket. She would eat it and not feel guilty, not feel as if she needed to...
"If it's too much right now we can get a box. I was thinking we could Carroll Gardens. And then we can share it."
But Selene was hungry, really hungry. Goddess she could have devoured Amelia right then and there.
Selene wolfed down the rest of the brisket, trying not to inhale it, trying not to think about inhaling something else. Goddamn it. Selene! Control yourself. You’ve been in public before. She sighed.
"Aw you could have saved some for me?" Amelia said.
"We'll get ice cream."
"Love it."
Maybe it was time to postpone Amelia’s transformation. If one succubus in a relationship was dangerous enough, than who knew how much dangerous it would be to have two in a relationship. And what would that look like.
***
Deep within St. Patrick’s Cathedral, beneath the catacombs, Simone Aydian Boc slipped into a narrow bath only she could see, ignoring the steam curling around her as the murmurs begged for her old name. She muttered her old name under her breath so the steam relinquished and she stepped out of the pool. Give to the hells to adopt human policies. Not that her family could anything about it. Even though they were Keepers of the Tally they were not even close to being nearest to the oligarchy.
Not that her family would do anything about it. She dug her fingers into her knuckles and for a second marveled at her nails. If there was one thing humans knew how to do it was nails.
Her ladies in waiting helped her to her feet avoiding looking at her nude body, a body she was mostly proud of, that she had crafted from feeding off so many. Swelling boobs, thick thighs, strong shoulders, lithe legs, and curves in almost all the right places. For demons they sure were embarrassed so quickly by seeing her.
They were of course distracted by her heady scent, still sweet, almost too sweet. Even with the right pheromones in her system, the right hormones, she could still see exhaustion in her victim’s eyes. You’re supposed to be correct. No son of—
She rolled her eyes, brushing away her father’s words haunting her. Afterall, she had her sisters.
Her ladies held her up, still almost afraid of her body. They were supposed to be her wives but she wanted nothing to do with them. In passing they gave her looks of disgust as if what she’d done with her body as her mother put it was completely unnatural.
Sometimes she wished she could be as brave as her sister Nyssa, as clever as Lila, or as loving as Selene. And yet here she was hiding from her parents, pretending to win their favor like some spoiled, petulant, bitch. And this hand, this hand had wrapped around her sister’s neck.
“Are you well?”
They never gendered her correctly. In fact, they didn't gender her at all which was funny. Without a second thought, she swiped the saber from her lady’s belt and in one motion severed her hand. She yelled out, grimacing, not caring that her voice had dropped, even as she held her hand, the pain like fire burning through her. Good. She needed this. She had hurt her sister. She needed this.
Her ladies backed away horrifying. None stumbling forward to help. Never again.
She left the bathhouse without looking back, barely feeling the pain screaming in her hand. All she could think about was Selene's mate as she closed her hand around her throat like a monster. She needed this.
“You desperately need therapy, Simone. Unbelievable. Though after what you mentioned, I’m not surprised that you did what you did.” The shapemaster said as he formed the new hand, not ignoring her like her ladies. “What would you possess you to attack your sister. Let me guess, you wanted to scare her off? So she would never come back here.”
She swore that the shapemaster's incredulous cursing could almost echo from within their hollow, and be heard all throughout Trailless Verlanz. The Trail, one of the few, was nearly cast in the shadow of Peerless Doubt, her mother and father's eye that detected all places where there was arid soil for planting. However, Trailless Verlanz belonged to the Fae so the Aydian Boc Family dared not venture for it.
“You’re almost on the mark,” Simone grimaced as she eyed the shapemaster tending to her arm. His gaze was gentle. His skin was withered, old; he always snarled with disgust at the prospect of being perceived as young. What’s going to benefit me if my body is merely a vanity piece, my body should reflect the toil of work? He would grumble.
That statement was ridiculous considering that his hair was long and well-tended too and considering all the trips he took to Garden Aresi to be pampered. She called him the Wrinkled Peacock to his face. He thought it was funny.
“Your hand will grow back eventually but this should be a fine substitute. Shame for the nails though.”
“I…attacked her because I thought selfishly that what Selene and her mate were planning to do would compete with our interests. Perhaps even draw attention to our cause. I was worried about us.”
He snorted. “That’s not why. You were worried about her.”
“Incredibly so,” there was no point in hiding it now. “I meant to scare her off, but I—it was too much. I could not take her mate from her. She would never forgive me.”
Forgiveness in the hells. What a nuanced concept.
“You’re worried about the committee? That’s crazy, Simone. They wouldn’t go to the surface lands just to interfere even if your sister was involved.”
“It would give them any excuse to go after the Aydin Boc name and my parents would gladly turn her over. They would make an example out of her. They already hate people like me.”
“There,” he said fastening the vanity piece around her hand. “The skin will sculpt over and it will feel good as new. Lamia skin.”
“You’re a monster.”
“You love me.”
“Sometimes,” she said, not looking at her new hand, that she did not deserve.
Are you scared of rocking the boat. She imagined the shapemaster saying but it never came.
“And your sister, Lila?”
“What about her,” she snapped. “She means to unleash the miasma on the surface lands.”
He seemed unsurprised as if he wanted that.
“Does it still bother you that she is married to that man?” he asked.
“He took my name. Is that not trust enough.”
“I would think you would be upset because she is not his first chosen.”
Simone rolled her eyes. “He loves his wives equally. Lila is too wise to enter a relationship without any benefit. But what she plans to do with the miasma is still frightening. Does she not consider all the humans she will affect, even in the name of utopia?”
Are you scared to rock the boat?
“The committee will never let change happen in the hells, might as well create opportunities for our kind."
“You don’t believe in us?” Simone raised an eyebrow.
“I think they’re separate interests.”
“And yet you’ve seen how humans make monsters out of their own kind.”
“The sentiment is familiar,” Simone said glancing at a svan uestra as it flew, its lift unsteady, nearly Fae, but far enough from the surface lands that it no longer mattered how it flew.
“And you think the hells are capable of more?” the shapemaster yawned.
“So much more.”
"I hope you're right."