Pheromoan

Chapter 3

I sat in the garage for at least two hours now, debating going into the house. I was home early from work. The captain felt that it was best I took a paid leave for "mental health" reasons. I knew it was because of the countless complaints by the officers about my attitude and the short fuse I'd been having with the people at the station due to the lack of sleep I've been getting ever since my sleepwalking incident two weeks ago. I have only gotten about five hours of sleep combined. I tried everything—I've taken sleeping pills, tried every home remedy known to man, and I even hired a local hypnotist. Nothing. I am completely drained.

Monica and Shadow kept their distance from me as much as they could; hell, if it was possible for them to blend into the wallpaper, they would. My presence felt like a burden to everyone, including myself. I grew the nerve to go inside, every step towards the house felt like exhaustion stabbing at every muscle.I spot Monica in the corner of my eye, curled up on the couch watching TV. She turned it off when she saw I was there, smiling softly at me before glancing at the clock above the TV. "Why are you back so early?"

I shrugged, feeling too drained to explain. She rolled her eyes, nodding, before making her way over to me. Her eyes scanned my face with sadness. She placed her hands on my face, rubbing my heavy eyes gently. I kissed her palm, stopping her hands. Her eyebrows scrunched together.

"Did you think about going back to Dr. Desir? Her office called again to see if you would like to schedule another appointment."

I shook my head, stepping away and going upstairs. I feel her on my back, following me to our room. I sat on the bed, and she sat next to me. "I said I would go to therapy for my sleepwalking. I haven't been sleepwalking, so there's no need to." She groaned loudly before standing and pacing the room.

"Yeah, of course, you're not f*****g sleepwalking, Tarot. You're also not sleeping. Now, you will go to this therapist. If not, I will take Shadow to my mother's, and I will file for divorce. My son and I will not be walking on eggshells in our home, so tomorrow morning, 8 AM, f*****g sharp—be there or get left. Pick one.

" I looked down at the floor, giving her a little nod. She huffed, exiting the room and slamming the door behind her. I ran my hands over my face. What was wrong with me? I collapsed on the bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, my body felt so dense, it felt as if I was sinking into the bed. With every blink, my eyes grew heavier. I prayed silently that I was going to stay asleep this time, surrendering to my exhaustion.

"You miss me? Because I sure missed you, Tarot."

My eyes shot open. She smiled at me, baring her pointed teeth in a wicked grin. She sat on a wooden desk this time. I still wasn't able to move or talk. I groaned inwardly, my eyes greedily taking in her appearance. She wore a button-up shirt with the smallest skirt that covered nothing, really, her hair in a bun over her horns with glasses on. I was confused as to why she had clothes on this time.

"What? You don't like the outfit? Why do you humans get all the fun? Us demons like to role-play too."

She hopped off the desk. It disappeared, and a chalkboard appeared in its place.

"How rude of me. I didn't introduce myself. My name is Akila—or Mrs. Akila to you right now. I'm a s*x demon, or succubus. I like succubus better; it sounds sexier."

The chalk wrote on the board on its own as she pulled each article of clothing off agonizingly slowly.

"I am a newly reformed ex-serial killer of Cypress Hallow."

She smiled, finished undressing, standing fully naked once again before walking over to me and sitting on my lap. Her scent kissed my nose. I breathed in hard, hoping to get the scent to stay with me forever. She waved her hand over my face.

"You can talk now." Relief washed over me. "Serial killer? It was you killing all those men?"

She shrugged, pressing her pelvis down on me, grinding her wet center on my lap. I felt the wetness on the head of my throbbing member, almost as if I was planted inside her already. My next words were swallowed by the sensation. She watched my face with her black eyes, hungrily taking in my every expression.

"f**k, what are you doing to me?" She grinned before getting up from my lap.

"I can make you c*m with a snap of the fingers if I wanted to, but I like to play with my food. But yes, I was a 'serial killer.' It was fun while it lasted. It fed my hunger and got the dirtbags off the streets. You're welcome, by the way. I helped you idiots—a win-win for me."

The desk appeared again. She walked painfully slow and sat on it again, spreading her legs so I had a view of her dripping core. I swallowed, hungry for a taste. She ran her tongue over her teeth.

"You wanna feel it?"

I hummed softly, afraid to admit it out loud. She laughed, waving me over, releasing me from my paralysis. I got up hesitantly, closing the gap between us. Before I got my hands on her, she froze me again, her core dripping onto the desk.

"Tarot, if I let you do this, I want you to know I do not share at all. If we do this, you are mine. If you touch that b***h Monica once you wake up, I will slaughter her in front of you. Do you understand me?"

Lust took over my logical mind. It was a wet dream—what could she possibly do, really?

"Yes, I understand."