Confessions of a Teenage Succubus Two - The Hunted

Aftermath

I woke up with Blake's name on my lips and a nightmare about the night before haunting me. Every muscle, every bone and inch of me ached and cramped.  My arms and legs were still taped together and I could feel my clothes in disarray. I listened carefully, afraid to open my eyes.  Hearing nothing but bird and insect sounds I tensed and opened them.

The brightness of the sun blinded me for a few moments and a piercing pain shot through my head as I struggled into a sitting position.  Jeff and his car were gone. Blake lay a jumbled bloody heap still unconscious and our backpacks lay near by.

The struggle the night before had loosed and stretched the tape enough that I could finally free my hands. I found the blade in the seam of my pants and quickly cut through the tape holding my ankles and knees. I straightened my clothes and  went to Blake and cut him free as well. I checked him for breathing and a heart beat. He was still alive but barely and running a fever. 

I carried him to the shade of a tree that wasn't too far off and went back for our back packs. The contents hadn't been disturbed. Blake was out of water but I had a few bottles left. I cracked one open and poured some over his lips. I watched carefully in case he tried to breath it. His swallow reflex was still working and he took it but slowly. I was relieved and  took my time getting the rest of the bottle into him. I didn't want him to puke.

I looked around. I had healed during the night, one of the advantages to being a succubus. I still hurt but the worst of the damage had repaired itself and I was left only with  aches and pains and a few bruises. I had no idea where we were and no clue as to which direction in which help might be found. I did my best to keep Blake comfortable while we waited out the heat of the day.  I tried  a few times but Blake wouldn't wake up. He was in no condition to walk anyway. When the sun got lower, I picked him up and draped him over my shoulders. I grabbed our backpacks and picked a direction to go.

I walked what seemed like forever but was probably an hour or maybe two at most. I stopped now and then to listen for traffic noises or any sound of civilization. I heard nothing but the birds in the trees and the insects in the grass. I had never felt so alone and desperate before. Finally, near night fall I stumbled into a copse of trees. There was a spring of cold clean water to drink and  a clear spot where I could put up our small tent if it rained. The trees would provide fuel for a fire and protection from the sun. I lay Blake gently in the clear spot and sat to rest.

Blake's fever was higher and he was still bleeding. His pants and underwear were caked in blood. I changed him and did my best to get him cleaned up. I rinsed his bloody clothes, hanging them on a nearby bush to dry. His eyes and face were bruised and  swollen from the beating. When I lifted his shirt I saw the ugly blue and distended belly.  He was probably bleeding inside.

I didn't know what to do. Blake was dying slowly and painfully. He was bleeding out inside and from the fever I knew he was fighting and infection. Now and then he whimpered in his sleep but he still refused to wake up. I took a quick trip into his mind. His dreams were a jumbled mess, scrambled by sickness. I felt helpless.

As the sun went down I lit a fire against the coming chill of night and as I sat feeding it, I stared  into the flames hoping something would come to me. Some idea about what to do, how to keep my baby alive and how to get us out of this mess my carelessness had gotten us into. It was all my fault. I had let my attention and suspicion lapse  and now my Blake was going to die because of it.

It was a dark moonless night and  the faint starlight was absorbed by the trees. The fire was dying and I was too tired to gather more wood. I just sat there thinking. In a flash it came to me.  Maybe Blake didn't have to die. 

I remembered that last night I spent with my family. The attack in the darkness, the terror of the assault the succubus had made on me. She had tried to feed but I was a girl, like her and she couldn't. Instead of feeding it had worked the opposite way. The harder she had tried to take from me the more I got from her. She had given me her life and  her essence. It had  depleted her. She had been left a dead empty shell and I had survived. I had become the succubus and she the prey.

I thought it over. It was possible then, or was it? Could I do the same with Blake? Could I give to him instead of taking away? I loved him. He was my life and it was my fault he was dying. It could easily cost my own life if I tried to save his. It most assuredly would if I was successful. It came down to who I valued more. Blake or myself. To save Blake I had to give him up.  I would have to  give myself, my life,  and pray I could make it work. 

A bible verse came to mind. It crept out of the far past, from a time when life was simple. A time when my family and I sat together at night around the lantern as my father read his favorite verses from the bible.

Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.  John 15:13

So my life had come to this moment in time. I had to choose between my life as an abomination and a freak that lives by taking from others, or the life of my Angel, innocent, loving and pure. It wasn't  a difficult decision to make. 

I slid my fingers across his chest, touched his mind and found the corner I needed to stir into wakefulness. I watched him sleep for what was probably the last time.  My cheeks were wet from my tears and my chest  ached. I reached up and rubbed them from my eyes so I could see. I couldn't  remember the last time I had cried.  Blake's body stirred to life in response to my probing and my gentle touch.  I mounted him. I moved slowly and carefully,  trying hard to keep my hunger in control. I played with his mind, bringing him to the brink of release to match my own building passion and then I pushed him over the edge into climax.

I was fighting to hold my hunger in check, fearful that I would lose control, pushing all of me that I could scrape up from what ever I had left, feeding it to him, trying desperately to fill him up.  I needed to finish before losing control and taking it all back and more. The ultimate sacrifice was mine to make and I  made it.  For the second time in as many evenings the  darkness over took me. I felt myself finally  fade into blackness dropping down into the void.