'And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.'- Mathew 6:13
Dahlia's heart stuttered in her chest. The perverse and imaginary creature from her dreams was very much in front of her and eyeing her as if she was its prey. Her skin raised with the awareness of its proximity to her. All she could do was stare at his predatory, sleek, sublime frame.
She could not help it. Despite its fear-inducing presence, she felt the raw sexuality it exuded. It was palpable and left a phenolic taste at the back of her throat. The taste was heavy and heady and begged her to writhe on silk sheets at his behest. It reminded her of the whiskey she stole from the Husband's cabinet on her twenty-first birthday. Just as how the first sip had served as a catalyst and amplifier for her libido, the creature's closeness to her left her weak with salacious want.
She was ready to be touched as she imagined him doing in her dream and he had only said six words to her.
Dahlia was unfamiliar with this woman who took over her body. The wanton, sexually needy thing, that inhabited her shell, was not her. She hadn't the propensity for it. And she was extremely bothered that it was making her react to this thing in a manner that betrayed her Christian nature.
Gathering her righteous outrage, she summoned the courage to ask,
"Who are you?"
"Ashemdai" the creature's gravelly voice responded, punctuated by his sardonic half smirk.
Her ire increasing with his nonchalant behaviour, Dahlia amended her question with arms akimbo and a heaving chest that begged the creature's eyes to follow its movement.
"What are you?"
"I am a demon, vashti. A succubus of royal blood, borne to Lilith and Lucifer in the year 7."
As the word 'demon' left the creature's mouth, Dahlia turned ashen under her chocolate tone. A demon was in her house. Her sanctified and hallowed home. It was not possible. The wards on the wall and the talisman by the door, both provided by the community's priest, should have ensured that this was not conceivable.
She didn't dwell on it too much. Rather, she lunged for the cross on the wall and one of the many King James's Version Bibles in the house.
She began to recite the exorcism taught to her as she learned her ABCs.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare... Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis... Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt... Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."
Despite the dramatic fanfare she had expected. The creature simply strolled over to the brown velvet sofa and settled, as best as he could with his height, into the plus cushions. Like a cat bored with admonishment, he levelled his gaze at her and replied,
"Let me know when you're finished with your... whatever that is."
Dahlia was stupefied. Why had it not worked? Was it because her vessel was unclean? Had she been defiled because of that dream? She could not seem to get anything right. But she has to rid her house of the vermin.
So she tried again.
And again.
And once more for good measure.
"Are you done? You seem winded, maybe you should sit, vashti."
Breathless and angry, Dahlia collapsed into the couch beside the creature.
"My name is not Vashti. I am Dahlia."
The creature smiled. She noticed the fangs from her dream was absent and that he looked human. She should stop that thought, this was no man. It was a creature from the pits of Hell, and she should treat it as such. But she was so terribly confused and curious about it. Plus, she was in fact tired. She had performed the exorcism recital with so much vigour and it had drained her.
"I know that, Dahlia. It was simply a nickname." He replied with a secretive smile. Like the one her old cat, Adam, had when he ate her mother's goldfish.
It should not have pleased her that he had given her a nickname. She should not have felt a warmth spread in her lower belly. But she did. Her morality struggled with the conundrum before her, but her body was simply delighted in this new attention it was receiving. It was ready for more.
"Are you here to kill me?"
The creature fell into a fit of laughter. It was a loud, full barrelled, shake-the-foundation-of-the-house type of laugh. Dahlia found her lips curving upward before she caught herself and fixed the scowl that mirrored her mother's.
"I am not here to kill you, vashti. I am here to complete my mating with you. We have already done it on the metaphysical plane. I am ready to enact it on the physical."
For the second time in ten minutes, Dahlia was utterly speechless. She could not seem to compute the words that came from the creature's mouth.
Taking her silence as an incentive to go on, Ashemdai continued,
"You see, I am the first born of seven royal born succubae. My brothers and sisters have all taken lovers on earth over the centuries. I have not. Until you.
You summoned me somehow in your dream. And I answered. I was delightfully surprised at the outcome. You are an exceptional lover, Dahlia."
She noted that his last sentence ended on a deeper and darker octave. She couldn't help being drawn him as he complimented her on her non-existent skills. Dahlia took full stock of the demon again, seemingly committing him to memory before sending the aberrant thing on its way.
He looked exactly as she remembered him from her dream. The only exception was his dark brown leather tunic, that held attractively to the planes of his body, and his missing fangs and fiery halo. His eyes were the same black void, yet this time they looked deceptively calm, like a silent river than ran deep.
She was able to make note of his lips since, this time, they were not attached to her skin and sucking her to insanity. They were full, plump organs that were much unlike her Husband's thin ones.
At the thought of her marriage, Dahlia's rising sexual fever shut down. It seemed that the demon could feel it too as his half smirk soon transformed into a childish frown. She was a married Christian woman. She should not be entertaining whatever form of adultery this was. She wrapped her arms about her and sat ramrod straight in the chair.
The demon saw that she was distancing herself from him, both mentally and physically. He sighed internally, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. The fiery woman was replaced with a cold and insufferable statue, as she cast her eyes to the false painting of her god on the wall.
He could see the chains that tethered her to this house, and this make belief world she was in. He vowed to break them eventually. He would release the trappings on her spirit and let her fly free. And the sex would be phenomenal. His jaw flexed as he remembered her vice grip and the feel of her nipples in his mouth.
It would happen again.
There was no doubt about it.
But for now, he would give her space. His temporary stasis on her realm was up anyway.
He unfurled from the chair and with the royal dignity engrafted in him, he straightened his clothes and placed a lingering kiss on Dahlia's forehead.
"I am giving you a week, vashti. Then I shall be back, and we will finish what we should have today."
After one last glance at her frigid form, he climbed down her attic and phased back to the seventh circle of hell.
Dahlia was filled with the reminiscent heat that his lips had left on her forehead. Her mind still could not coherently process the events that had just transpired. She was left as turbulent as the look in his eyes when he reluctantly departed from her.
A glance at the clock told her it was hours after her dictated bedtime. Her Husband would be disappointed. Methodically, she rearranged the attic and hid her art supplies. She fluffed the pillows to erase the previous presence, while resisting the urge to sink into the spot and let his scent envelope her. Pleased with her restraint, she went to the shared bedroom and knelt at the door to say her nightly prayer.
As she lay in bed, willing sleep to claim her mind, her thoughts strayed to the demon. The sexual attraction she has to it was unholy and perverse. She put it out of her mind. All that mattered was that he left, and he would hopefully stay gone. She would wake up tomorrow and make breakfast for her Husband like the proper wife she was. Then she would make his dinner in the evening. And if he desired intercourse, she would lay there and let him take it, with a smile on her face. That was what her life was.
And that was what it was going to remain.