Naia’s tail thrashed delectably around her. This was it: she’d scoped out her first target.

The other succubi had all mocked her for her inexperience, taunting her that she’d never manage to capture sorcerous seed. “Our job is to capture the seed of men and bring it back,” they’d said, “but that of men with magical talent is prized over all else.” Then they’d laugh at her from behind their hands. “But poor Naia probably won’t even be able to get the seed of a normal man.”

The thought still made her rankle. But she would show them; she’d show them all.

When she returned for the first time, she’d come carrying a veritable bucketload of ensorcelled seed. That would shut them all.

She’d scoped out her target carefully on her first venture to the mortal world, flitting about by night and using her magic to peer into dreams, walking in the daytime under a disguise spell. Figuring out which men had magic power and which didn’t, writing off those with hardly any power of their own or those who would be too dangerous to attempt to take from. All of it was carefully done.

And now she was ready. She’d finally found the right target.

Shaun Jaxon was a young college student attending a prestigious university. Lithe and leanly muscled from track practice, he was a good student when he could muster the energy—but he’d rather be back home consuming anime and other passions.

Sometimes, in the evenings, he dabbled in sorcery. From everything Naia had seen, he was a total beginner, which was fine by her. He had activated his power, which meant that the magic would be strong and present in his seed, a top-tier treat to drag back to the girls back home; however, his inexperience meant that he was unlikely to pose a danger if he cottoned onto what she was doing.

But the best part of all was his physicality. His youth meant a vigor in sexual energy and drive—a tremendous bonus to a succubus—and, as a bonus, his physique. Naia had to admit, she liked them tall and lean.

She’d hovered outside his dorm window, incorporeal like the mist, until half past midnight—the witching hour, the time when dark magic was at its peak. Shaun had returned to his room and was now drowsy in bed. Naia slowly watched him drift off to sleep with a knowing smile on her face. Eventually, Shaun’s chest rose and fell with the regular rhythm of the dreamer.

Perfect.

She slid into his room, easily dispelling the warding enchantment he’d set up around his window and slipping through the cracks in the form of smoke. Materializing over his slumbering form, Naia rubbed her hands together. “Alright,” she purred, “let’s get this started, shall we?” And with a whispered spell under her breath and a small exercise of power, she peered into his dreams.