I leaned towards Jonathon, inhaling his scent, but I wrinkled my nose, for unlike a human, he stank. Not physically, but metaphysically, the experimentation doing to him what only death does to humans-stripping his soul, his very aura. Without it, he smelt of decay, the sickly sweet scent of the grave even as his body appeared intact. And yet, even without his soul, my succubus powers worked on him, but in his case I’d feed on his very life, the spark that animated him-though not for much longer.

Bad smell or not, former brother in torture or not, he needed to die before he could tell others he’d seen me. I liked my new life and my friends, thank you very much. I wouldn’t let him and his covetous nature ruin it for me.

I pressed against him, my mouth opening and preparing to suck the life-putrid as it was-right out of him.

“Now,” Jonathon croaked, managing to force the word out through the enthralling spell I’d placed him under. That surprised me. Usually, once I had them under my spell, they couldn’t move until I released them. My brothers have grown stronger. Not a reassuring thought given the situation.

The sound of several thumps hitting the ground behind me forced my hand-and deprived me of dinner. With a quick slicing slash, I opened up Jonathon’s throat before he could raise a hand to defend himself-I’d lost my fear of violence after my escape when I realized it was kill or be killed. As Jonathon sagged to the ground, leaving the wall he leaned against bare, I whirled and pressed my back against the rough concrete.

It would seem I had miscalculated. Jonathon might have entered the club with only two lackeys, but facing me were a half dozen faces, of which I only recognized two.