Emilia Featherstone-Willet crept along the second floor gallery. The slight rustle of her clothing seemed very loud to her nervous ears. The servants had long since retired and the thick walls blocked the outside night sounds. The contrast with the moonlight pouring in the windows made the darkness beyond the railing seem endless.

It also silhouetted her body through the thin material of her gown. Her breasts were of modest size but high and well rounded. Her legs were long and graceful. She loved to dance but didn’t often find the opportunity. Her hair was dark, her eyes brown, and complexion slightly darker than was fashionable. Altogether she was an attractive though not extraordinary young woman of three and twenty.

The silence was past creepy and well into ominous. The silver and ebony dagger she held hidden in a fold of her skirt was the only comforting thing about the situation.

Experience and education had taught her that her goal was either high or low. Tonight she’d try the tower and then tomorrow the cellars if necessary. Hopefully, her cover as a dilettante architectural historian would provide her with enough time and access.

She was regretting her decision to dress in character. Barefoot, wearing only a thin nightgown, an Egyptian scarab on a velvet choker and her hair loosely braided and tied with a ribbon, she certainly appeared innocent and nonthreatening but if things went sideways.

She tried to push that uncomfortable thought aside and concentrate on her job. The arched opening of the tower stairs loomed out of the dark. The circular staircase climbed into the gloom lit only by the old slit windows. Gingerly she placed a foot on the first step and began her ascent.

Beyond the inner edge of the steps was a lightless void that opened directly to the foundation of the tower. The long fall would be an ignominious end to her mission. Carefully, she held her hem above tripping level and brushed her right hand along the wall as a guide. The arcane dagger stayed in her left where she’d been explicitly and repeatedly told it must.

The stones were cold against her feet and hands. The chill raised goosebumps on her bare arms and crinkled her nipples. The brush of the silky fabric covering them was pleasant but distracting. Emilia paused to listen and catch her breath. Nerves and the climb were making her pulse rapid.

The deep silence remained but a faint musky smell came to her. Not pleasant or unpleasant, she struggled for a word to describe the odor. Disturbing, she thought, that’s the best I can do.

The door at the top of the stair was open just a crack and she cautiously peered into the room. The bright light streaming through the large windows made the shadows impenetrably dark. She regarded them with suspicion.

Slowly she swung the door open enough to let her slip inside. Just as she stepped into the room two gloved hands seized her upper arms from behind and hustled her forward. Strands of hair escaped from her plait and drifted across her face. She wanted to try a quick thrust with the dagger but her arms dangled unresponsive at her sides.

A well-bred voice spoke against her ear. “It would perhaps have been better, for you, if you had remained in your room. I am, however, delighted to find you here. I am Lord Damon.”

Emilia tried to casually pull loose but her captor’s grip tightened. Her arms still refused to obey her.

She tried a lie, “I’m so sorry to intrude but I was hoping to view the moon lit gardens from above.” Her voice quivered slightly but not unnaturally.

“Ah, a pretty lie delivered by a pretty package. Is this for protection from moon dancing faeries then?”

To her surprise her arm lifted of its own accord and displayed her dagger in the bright moonlight. The edge glittered and the point was needle sharp. She watched nervously as it moved toward her and stopped nestled intimately against her throat. Teasingly it slid across her skin, not cutting but reminding how sharp the blade was. Gliding lower it reached her neckline and severed the ribbon holding her gown closed with one slow stroke. Her hand opened and the knife fell clattering to the floor where it missed her foot by an inch.

Lord Damon shifted his left hand to her neck and stroked her hair with the other. Though she again tried to pull away, no part of her body below her chin was obeying her.

“Delicious”, he breathed in her ear. She was afraid he wasn’t being figurative.

Her gown slipped down exposing most of her chest before snagging precariously on her erect nipples. Without intending to, she found herself walking slowly toward a low platform in the middle of the room. Damon maintained his grip as he guided her forward. Her clothing slithered to the ground as she reached the dais.

With surprising gentleness, he laid her on her back and positioned her outstretched limbs to the corners. Something rustled out of the dark and loops coiled around her ankles and wrists. Only then did he release his grip and step back into the shadow. She had regained control of her body but a brief test of her bonds convinced her of their strength.

So she was naked and helpless. At the mercy of someone, something, that stood in the dim and examined her. None of this was really according to plan.

“Shall we begin?” Damon’s voice asked.

The moonlight dazzled her eyes making it difficult to see into the shadows but her captor seemed to be changing. The edges of his form were becoming vague and misty. Only the reflections in his eyes remained the same. Damon’s new form bowed out of the dark and draped across her body. A huge centipede dragged its cold body across her sex and belly. Tiny clawed feet pinched her skin and poked at her breasts. The ends of its feet flicked her nipples as it skittered up her body.

The thing’s face paused inches from hers and regarded her with shiny black eyes. The musty scent she’d noted before filled her nose making her head spin. Emilia was acutely aware of its restless movements against her naked body, especially between her legs. She wanted to scream or throw up. Damon’s voice spoke from the creature matter-of-factly.

“You are going to die. Your choice, your last choice in life, is a question of prolonged or expeditiously. Lick the venom from my mandibles and you will rapidly fall unconscious and I’ll proceed with my meal. Refuse and you will endure an interesting, albeit somewhat painful, end to your existence. I await your response with interest.”

The inches long fangs hovered over her face. They shone wetly in the moonlight. Stubbornly, Emilia pressed her lips together and shook her head. The sound of pleased laughter mocked her.

“Ah, splendid!” purred the voice. “Dinner and an entertainment.”

Damon shifted restlessly. His many legs pinched and tickled her skin. She jerked reflexively at restraints. The creature’s head settled against her naked shoulder. The needle sharp fangs barely broke the skin but a wave of warmth spread from the puncture. Emilia felt her cheeks turning pink and worse, her thoughts getting fuzzy.

The centipede crawled further down her body. Another shallow bite penetrated her right breast. The wave of heat was accompanied by a ripple of pleasure as it swept through her. She reacted with a sharp intake of breath and an arching of her back. The musty smell of her attacker seemed much more pleasant, even arousing, now.

The feel of its body scraping over her flesh made Emilia writhe on the hard surface. It slid between her out stretched legs and pressed its fangs into her groin. A wave of hot pleasure filled her. She moaned as her sex dripped in response.

A small orgasm shudder through her as her captor wriggled back up her body. Each touch of the many legs gave a tingle of pleasure. She lifted her hips in invitation as her arousal overtopped her rational thoughts. Something hard and cold pressed into her gaping cunt and triggered another orgasm. Damon thrust hard and she had yet another climax as he filled her.

Emilia fought her bindings eager to take part in her violation. She was acutely aware of the cold cock pressing against her inner walls. His thrusts pounded into her. A series of short climaxes rattled through her. Her breathing was ragged and her heart was pounding. The vague idea he would fuck her to death formed.

The creature flooded her with a fluid cold and acid. She screamed from the pain and a final mind crushing orgasm. Emilia lost consciousness as his fangs reached for her vulnerable throat. A flare of bright white light was the last thing she remembered.

Emilia blinked her eyes open. The angle of the moon told her she’d been out several hours. The Damon thing was lying on top of her. That was bad. It wasn’t moving and she wasn’t dead so that was good. She tugged at her bindings and was pleased when her joints slipped free. The will which had animated them was gone. She pushed and kicked until the bug flopped off of her. It slithered over the platform’s edge and landed with a prolonged rattle.

The bites throbbed in time to her heartbeat. A slight pleasure accompanied each beat. She wondered if Damon’s venom had permanently altered her. The room turned and rocked under her. Suddenly she rolled on her side and spewed spectacularly. Shivering in the chill air she sat up, pulled her legs to her chest and leaned her forehead on her knees until her head stopped spinning.

When she felt steadier the naked woman scooted to the edge of the dais and stepped over the carcass of the monster she’d been sent to deal with. The scarab pulsed with waves of fear and anger but the malevolent spirit trapped inside was impotent. Damon must have touched it when he went for her throat. Rachael Cohen, professional monster hunter, she thought. It often seemed more like professional monster bait. Her family had hunted the dark creatures, more or less successfully, since their servitude in ancient Egypt. Those ancients had known a great deal about the dark.

She bent to gather up her nightgown and had to drag it from beneath Damon’s body. Shape-shifters were the worst in her opinion. They always started out something lovely and bed-able then turned fanged or oozy or having far too many limbs. She’d once mentioned this to her handler but had simply gotten a lecture about the importance of their work. Frankly, she’d rather had a good schtupping without the concern of being murdered afterward.

Rachael padded across the floor and scooped up her dagger. She turned to look at the room a last time. Nothing of hers remained. The centipede would be dust by dawn. Emilia Featherstone-Willet would make a last appearance to wonder with the servants about the disappearance of her host. After departing she would never be heard of again. The building would eventually be deserted as the staff drifted away. Watch would be kept to prevent something else murderous from reoccupying the site but that wasn’t her department. Naked except for her choker and the ruined nightgown draped over her shoulder, Rachael/Emilia passed out the door.

THE END