THE ALPHA'S SUCCUBUS

007

By the time I heard the grind of tires in the driveway, I had already tucked away the photo box beneath my bed. Today’s prints slid neatly beneath old polaroids from middle school field trips and summer pool days, snapshots of a simpler version of me. My mother didn’t need one more reason to worry.

Dinner was warm and quiet. Too quiet.

Mom smiled a little too brightly as she set down the tray of roasted vegetables, her questions about my day halfhearted at best. Her eyes flicked toward the window more times than I could count.

The kitchen felt tight under the pendant lights, like the room itself was holding its breath. I poked at my food, trying to seem casual.

“Have you ever gone downtown?” she asked suddenly, like the words had slipped out before she could catch them.

I choked. Literally. I had to take a sip of water and everything.

Her hand hovered over the table, then slowly withdrew. I caught something in her face, quick, uncertain. But she schooled it back into that usual calm, like nothing had happened.

“Don’t lie to me,” she added, gently. The way someone might warn you not to touch a hot stove.

I didn’t plan to. I couldn’t blow my cover. “No, Momma,” I said, sweet and still. “Have you?”

“Not in a long time,” she murmured. Nothing down there but old ghosts. Better to stay on this side of town. Safer.”

There it was again. Safer. That word people use when they mean don’t ask. My brow arched before I could stop it.

“I’m sorry I asked like that last night,” I said. But there was a bite in my voice I couldn’t dull.

She pivoted quickly, like a dancer used to sidestepping traps. School. Grades. Senior year. Prom. All things that were supposed to matter.

My phone buzzed under the table.

Kaia:

I’ve got something for you tonight.

Downtown. That club on Oak & 3rd. Let’s go wild before you turn ancient.

I smirked down at the screen. Oak & 3rd. Right in the place my mother wouldn’t even say out loud.

I mumbled an excuse and slipped away before dessert.

Upstairs, my room glowed with twilight, shadows bleeding into soft reds and fading golds. I locked the door and leaned against it, my heart fluttering like I was standing on the edge of something bigger than me. The photos were forgotten for now. All I could think about was what to wear.

I tugged off my nightdress and let it puddle at my feet. That’s when I saw it, my reflection.

I stepped closer to the mirror. My body… it had changed. My hips looked fuller. My waist, narrower. My breasts are taut beneath the lace, more curved than they were this morning. My skin was porcelain, glowing with a strange inner light. And my lips were rich as plums, flushed like I’d just kissed someone and liked it.

“What the hell…” I whispered.

I backed away fast, grabbing my robe, and dashed to the bathroom, flipping on the overhead light like it could exorcise what I saw.

In that mirror, I looked… normal. Still me. Still beautiful, but not otherworldly.

I touched my face. Nothing different. Nothing magic.

“It’s just ovulation,” I muttered. Or stress. Or maybe I was just finally glowing up. Right?

But it didn’t feel like that. It felt like my reflection had lied. Like something inside me was waking up and didn’t want to be quiet about it anymore.

And worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The man. The one in the photo. The one I couldn’t remember seeing but somehow knew.

I should’ve told Kaia to meet me at Central Park. That place was always full of life. This… this night felt like the edge of a ghost story.

In my closet, I ran my hands along familiar fabrics, then stopped at something I’d forgotten.

A dress. No, a velvet jumpsuit. Bloodred. Low back. Long sleeves. Short hem. It shimmered like it dared me to wear it.

I laid it on my bed. Picked out my thigh-high boots. Silver rings. The whole look felt like it belonged to someone else. Or maybe someone I was becoming.

I locked my windows, lay beside my outfit, and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow I turn eighteen.

My phone buzzed again.

Kaia:

Outfit check? You had better be slaying tonight.

I smiled and snapped a picture of the jumpsuit.

Me: Let’s set the town on fire.

And maybe… I already have.

Downstairs, Isolde stood at the kitchen sink, water running over a single dirty glass.

Her jaw clenched as she watched it overflow, her reflection fractured in the rippling surface. The hum of the house was too quiet. The silence wasn’t peaceful, it was a warning.

She knew.

She thought she had more time.

More time before the dreams started.

Before the instincts kicked in.

Before they noticed.

Lilith was changing. Not just physically; no, this wasn’t puberty. It wasn’t hormones or teen rebellion. It was blood. It was the mark.

The scent of her daughter’s awakening was already in the air. Sweet and wrong. Dangerous and divine.

Isolde turned off the tap, dried her hands slowly, and checked the back door. Twice.

The moon was almost full.

Outside, the night rustled like a warning. Shadows clung too tightly to the trees.

Isolde didn’t bother with the main roads. She took a long way. The forgotten way.

She needed to speak with someone she swore she’d never see again.

Someone who might know how to keep them away a little longer.

But first she would pick her friend Alia, Kaia’s mother.

She wasn’t running.

She was preparing for war.

____

I crept to my window. I hadn’t drawn the curtains all the way.

There, under the silver spill of moonlight, my Mom climbed into her car. No bags. No coat. Just her keys. She looked up once, right toward the house, like she felt me watching. Then pulled out of the driveway, swallowed by the shadows.

I crouched, breath caught in my throat. Where was she going? And why hadn’t she told me?

I pulled out my phone fast and texted Kaia.

Me:

The universe is on our side. My mom just left.

I’m coming to get you. Club night’s on.

Three minutes passed. Then Kaia replied.

Kaia:

Went out? Are you sure?

I’m dressed.

Me:

Yeah. She didn’t even say goodnight. Just drove off.

Kaia:

…Lilith.

Your mom’s here.

Like, just pulled up. She’s outside talking to my mom.

My fingers froze.

Me:

Well, she could’ve told me.

I’m coming anyway.

Kaia:

You had better bring holy water.

And the camera.

I’m waiting down the road.

Me:

On my way.

I was already halfway into my outfit. Light makeup done. I shoved my phone in my little bag, pulled on my jacket, and headed for the door with my heart pounding, not just from the thrill, but from the pull. I slid my boots on.

Something in the dark was calling me, and I was ready to meet it halfway.

I coasted my bike down the cracked asphalt, the engine growling low and mean between my thighs.

The air was thick with the syrupy weight of midsummer night, honeysuckle and asphalt heat clinging to my skin. Just past the bend, where the old willow clawed at the road like a witch’s hand, I saw her.

Kaia.

A pale smudge against the dark, arms wrapped tight around herself. I slowed, tires hissing over loose gravel. Kaia practically bounced in place as I rolled to a stop, her eyes going wide when the streetlight hit the dark red velvet of my jumpsuit.

“Holy smokes,” she gasped. “You look like you’re about to eat hearts and break souls.”

I swung one leg off the bike, smirking as I tossed my hair over one shoulder, sin and invitation. “That’s the whole point,” I said as I helped her out on her helmet.

Kaia laughed, cracking the thick air. She tugged at her corset’s hem. “Please. I look like a Hot Topic sacrifice left at a Lana Del Rey altar.”

I gave a low whistle, circling her slowly. “Hot. Tragic. Perfect.”

She struck a mock-serious pose. “My aesthetic.”

Then she fished something from her jacket pocket and held it up between two fingers, a tiny, baby pink canister. She flicked it open and squeezed. A pitiful puff of mist floated out.

“Pepper spray?” I laughed.

“You’re dragging us into downtown Mordor,” she said, voicing all mock outrage. “I’m not getting sacrificed without a fight.”

I leaned in, lowering my voice to a velvet murmur. “I brought a knife.”

Kaia’s eyebrows shot up. “Stop.”

I didn’t blink. I just tapped the inside of my boot with two fingers. A flash of steel gleamed under the leather.

Kaia whooped and threw her arms around my neck. “Ride or die, b***h. Let’s go!”

The bike roared back to life beneath us, a snarling beast between my legs. I gunned it hard, the tires spitting gravel.

The night swallowed us whole as we plunged toward the bleeding neon of the city, leaving nothing behind but the scent of wild girls and gasoline.