The succubus blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Her gaze swept over Damon from head to toe again, as if waiting for the image to fail, to dissolve, to reveal the lie.
"…No," she finally said, her voice low, almost a disbelieving whisper. "You're not."
Damon raised an eyebrow.
Aria rested her sword on her shoulder, amused in silence.
Esther merely watched, arms crossed, expression neutral—but attentive.
The succubus shook her head slowly.
"I would feel it," she insisted. "I would feel another like me. I always do. Incubi, succubi… the resonance is impossible to hide." Her fingers closed on the torn fabric of her own clothing. "And you… you have none of that."
Damon let out a short laugh.
"Fair enough," he said. "Technically, you're right."
She frowned.
"Technically?"
He placed his hand on his right wrist.
There, a discreet black bracelet, marked with runes so fine they seemed like mere decorative lines, pulsed with an almost nonexistent glow.
