Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!

{Melistair}

The sun was setting by the time Melistair finished his shift at the construction site, his muscles aching from a day of heavy lifting.

[You know... It's been a while since any of the human workers have complained about having to work with nim,] he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. [Amazing what your daughter saving the king can do for workplace relations, eh?]

"Oi! Mel!"

Rax, his fellow nim and drinking buddy of fifteen years, waved him over. The other nim's purple skin was covered in dust, but his grin was as bright as ever.

"Ready for that drink? Those new girls have been asking about you~"

"I don't know," Melistair sighed. "Last time I 'got to know' any new girls, I could hardly walk for a week."

"That's the best part, isn't it?" Rax grinned.

[... Got me there.]

So, Melistair agreed.

---

The nondescript building that housed their favorite bar was already buzzing when they arrived, the usual crowd of nim workers from all over the city seeking relief after a long day. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of cheap alcohol, and Melistair almost felt light-headed just being in this space.

[Margaret would love it here,] he thought, not for the first time. [She'd probably already have half these girls in her lap by now. You know what? I'll invite her next time.]

Sure enough, as soon as they sat down, two nim women practically materialized beside them. One of them, a curvaceous beauty with striking red eyes, pressed herself against Melistair's arm.

"Hey handsome," she purred. "Want some company?"

"Sorry ladies," he laughed. "Got to head home soon. My wife would be furious if I had all the fun without her here."

"Bring her over next time!" the woman suggested, trailing her fingers up his arm. "We'd love to meet the woman who caught such a fine specimen~"

"Maybe someday," Melistair chuckled. "But tonight, I really can't stay late."

The women pouted but moved on to more promising prospects. Melistair settled in with his drink, watching Rax flirt shamelessly with a group that had gathered around him.

One drink turned into three, then five. The night grew deeper, the crowd rowdier. Someone started playing music on an old piano in the corner, the slightly off-key notes adding to the general chaos.

[Margaret really would love it here,] Melistair thought, his mind pleasantly fuzzy. [She'd probably have half these girls eating out of her hand by now. Literally.]

"Another round!" Rax called out, now surrounded by admirers. "Come on, Mel, live a little!"

Time blurred. More drinks appeared. More nim came and went, some stopping to chat, others just passing through on their way to the back rooms for some "private entertainment."

[Should probably head home soon,] Melistair thought, checking the time. [Though Margaret's probably "entertaining" herself just fine without me. Javir's absolutely making sure of that...]

That's when he heard it. A commotion from the back rooms caught his attention. It sounded like...

[Is that fighting?]

"Be right back," he told Rax, who was thoroughly distracted by the remaining woman. Following the sounds, he found himself near the storage area.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Three nim had a human nobleman cornered, magic crackling around their fists as they took turns hitting him. The man's fine clothes were torn and bloody.

"Not so high and mighty now, are you?" one of them sneered, landing another punch.

[Oh gods.]

"Please," the noble gasped. "I'll pay-"

"We don't want your money," another nim snarled.

Melistair stumbled back to the bar, his mind racing.

[What...]

He blinked multiple times. Had he really just seen this?

[What the fuck was that?]

Rax was still there, now alone, nursing his drink. Melistair made a beeline for him, needing answers.

"Did you know?" Melistair demanded, keeping his voice low. "About what they do in the back rooms?"

Rax didn't meet his eyes, shrugging.

"Course I did. Been happening for years."

"Years!?"

"Keep your voice down," Rax hissed. "Look, where do you think all those 'missing' nobles end up? The ones who treat nim like dirt? That's justice," Rax's eyes hardened. "Or what passes for it these days. You think your daughter's the only one trying to change things? She does it her way, we do it ours."

Melistair felt sick.

"By becoming exactly what they think we are? Violent animals?"

"Sometimes violence is the only language people understand." Rax took another drink. "Besides, most of them survive. Usually. Just go home, Mel. Forget what you saw."

---

The walk home felt longer than usual, each step heavier than the last. Melistair kept his head down, trying not to make eye contact with anyone he passed. His boots scuffed against the cobblestones, each step echoing his troubled thoughts.

That image kept playing in his mind. The nobleman, bloodied and beaten. The hatred in those nim's eyes. The casual way Rax had dismissed it all.

[What if it had been Javir?] The thought made him sick. [Or Jaylin? Gods, what did those humans do to deserve... No, no, don't try to justify it. Don't even start.]

But he knew exactly what they might have done. Nine years of construction work had shown him plenty of examples of human cruelty. The sneers, the "accidental" drops of heavy materials near nim workers, the way some of them still spat when nim walked by.

Still...

[What happens if I say something? What happens to me? To Margaret? To... No. Better not to think about what they might do to my family.]

He shook his head, trying to clear it. The alcohol wasn't helping, making his thoughts swim and spiral.

[No. Don't think about it. Just... don't. Think about Margaret instead. Think about home.]

Javir's manor came into view, its windows glowing warmly in the night. The sight should have been comforting, but all Melistair could think about was how quickly that warmth could turn cold if the wrong people found out they were living here. Nine years of sanctuary, gone in an instant if those nim decided Javir was their next target.

The front door creaked as he entered. From somewhere upstairs, he could hear Jaylin practicing her spells. The familiar sound of magical mishaps almost made him smile.

He found Margaret in the sitting room, curled up on the couch with a book. Her grey hair fell loose around her shoulders, and the lamplight made her purple skin glow softly. She'd changed into one of her silky nightgowns, the kind that always made his mouth go dry.

"You're still up?" he asked, his voice rougher than intended.

She looked up, smiling. "Couldn't sleep. How was the bar?"

[Do I tell her? Should I? About the violence, about Rax, about those girls who wanted to meet her...]

Instead of answering, Melistair pulled off his shirt, revealing the muscles that years of construction work had carved into his purple skin. His broad chest rose and fell with each breath, still slightly unsteady from the night's revelations. Sweat glistened on his abs, catching the lamplight.

He felt Margaret's arms wrap around him from behind, her soft breasts pressing against his back. Her nightgown was thin enough that he could feel everything.

"Something's bothering you," she murmured, pressing kisses between his shoulder blades. Her hands traced the defined muscles of his stomach. "Want to talk about it?"

[Everything's bothering me. The violence, the hatred, the way everything could fall apart...]

"It's nothing," he lied, turning to face her. Her red eyes searched his face, concerned. "Just tired."

"Mmhmm," she didn't believe him, but her hands were already wandering lower. "Want me to help you relax?"

[Yes. Please. Make me forget everything I saw tonight. Make me forget about the blood, the screams, the way Rax looked at me...]

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck. Maybe tomorrow he'd figure out what to do about what he'd witnessed. Maybe tomorrow he'd find the courage to speak up, to do something.

But tonight? Tonight he'd let his wife chase away his demons the best way she knew how.

So, he sighed, trying to get his mind to stop being so damn annoying for a bit.

"The girls at the bar asked about you," he murmured against her skin, trying to focus on the good parts of the evening. "They want to meet the woman who tamed me."

"Oh?" Her hands slipped beneath his waistband, making him gasp. "Tell me all about them while I remind you why you come home to me~"

[At least some things never change,] he thought as Margaret pulled him toward their bedroom, her nightgown already slipping off one shoulder. [Even if the whole world's going mad around us, at least I still have this. At least I still have her.]

Behind them, somewhere in the house, he heard Jaylin curse at another failed spell. The normal sounds of their borrowed home.

[Please,] he thought as Margaret's door clicked shut behind them, [let me keep this. Let me protect this.]