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    Summary

    It was a cold, cloudless night. The moon's eye cast its gaze upon the succubus, having climbed atop one of the large trees near a cracked window of a manor he'd spotted. It looked a bit run down – if a noble lived in it, they ought to be from a house in decline. Good. Less guard dogs to sneak around, less chance of a butler storming in.

    Veritas swallowed, the fatigue of not having been satiated in far too long laying heavy upon his limbs. Black, clawed nails dug into the branch he was squatting on, kept him stable as a rush of wind whipped dark hair onto his face.

    The only sign of life was the smoke steadily rising from the chimney on the roof; not a single lantern had been lit, and most of the windows were tightly shut, heavy curtains keeping Veritas from looking in.

    Veritas, a starved succubus, seeks his next sustainer and ends up somewhere he never would've expected.

    Kinktober Day 23: Biting

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