by Shona Husk
He was going to lift Tavor’s ban on socializing with other Metas and Humans. They’d all be amazed that he’d chosen a human host.
“That orgy was all over the news.”
He knew that. But the Climintra didn’t know which Incubus it had been, so they could do nothing. Plus, no one had been hurt. But there had been a lot of bad publicity about the Incubi after that. People liked to call them a danger because they could strip self-control. Tavor had known, though, and he’d made sure that Kearn was severely punished. Tavor was a Climintra officer and could have turned him in. Instead, he’d chosen to dish out the punishment personally.
“I was separated from the others for a week. I wasn’t allowed to do anything but go to work. No touch. No feeding. When I got hungry, I had to eat food. And every evening I had to show up and take ten lashes in front of the others. When well fed, my pain threshold is high and I heal fast, but by the end of the week I was a mess.” Knowing that it would end after seven days was all that had kept him alive for day six and seven. By the time the last lash fell, he had been sobbing with relief.
Levit had been the first to touch him. They’d shared a bed for several nights after. But even after that, he could only feed with supervision for another month. That had been when he’d fought and lost the first time. He’d fought out of anger and a need to prove he wasn’t the screw-up they thought he was. He’d only proven them right. This year, he’d fought with a plan and been calm. Now he needed a plan that would carry him through the year. He would be a good leader. He’d be better than Tavor.
Phoebe’s hand traced up his arm. “That part was never in the news.”
“It wouldn’t be. We don’t let people in.” Which meant that no one got to know them. “Now you know why I didn’t want to talk about it. It’s embarrassing.”
“I’m sorry.” She leaned in and put her arms around him, her head resting over his heart.
He returned the embrace. His body was not done. Thoughts of sex filled his brain. While memories of the orgy he’d created were usually painful, tonight they stirred his blood. “Don’t you ever find sex distracting?”
“No. Maybe. Sometimes.” She smiled, but he wasn’t sure if it was for him or for past lovers. “Do you get lonely?”
He frowned at her. He was never lonely. “No. I have friends. Just because I don’t want sex doesn’t mean I’m alone.”
“But now you’ve had it, will you miss it?”
“I don’t know.” No one had ever mentioned it. Unless the need to feel lust again was the reason leaders kept fighting. They wanted that feeling again and again, and it was worth risking the loss of status if they lost. He glanced at their linked hands. “Touch is important. Connections to people are more important than mating.”
She tried not to laugh, but it escaped. “That sounds so weird when you call it breeding or mating.”
“That’s what it is. What would you call it?”
She shrugged. “Fucking…”
He wrinkled his nose. “That makes it seem like nothing. This wasn’t nothing, not to me.” But then she wasn’t like him. She wanted and could do it all year round. For a moment he was jealous of that ability, but then it was gone. He didn’t want to not know his own body…although he would get used to the changes, he supposed.
“It wasn’t nothing to me. You were my first Meta. And it was fun…you had fun, right?”
“I did have fun, and I think I could manage some more fun before the hormonal urge is completely gone.” That was all it was, but while it was there, hardening his flesh, he might as well enjoy it and make the most of the lust while he could.
She nodded. “Are you sure you want to do it with me again? If I only had a limited time, I think I’d do it with lots of people. I’d want to do it all.”
What else was there to do? He’d had his choice of women at the club, but he hadn’t wanted them. “I chose you to breed with.”
Her lips curved, then the smile faltered. “There will be no breeding. I can’t get pregnant.”
Kearn stared at her for a moment. If she couldn’t get pregnant, then he had just wasted what would be his only chance of becoming a father. Of passing on his genetic material so his line would carry on. He wouldn’t be able to fight next year. Tavor would, and there was a chance that he’d win and they’d be stuck under his rule as the exited the Complex. They’d leave the same way they had when they’d entered and nothing would’ve changed.
“What do you mean you can’t get pregnant?” He was sure that Humans mated and bred like other Metas. She didn’t smell sick or weak—no one liked to feed off them, as so little could be taken.
He hadn’t planned on winning and mating tonight, but now that he had, he wanted all that entailed. Phoebe had just tossed it all out the window and into free fall. It hurt like he’d been starved of touch, his body hollow and bruised.
Kearn looked stricken. His embrace had become wooden. She untangled herself and pushed away. She needed space. Space and clothes. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she needed to know. “When you said you chose me, you literally mean you chose me to bear your kid?”
“Yes.”
“Who does that? Why didn’t you say? I would have said no, for the record.” She wasn’t going to have some stranger’s baby.
“You said you can’t get pregnant.”
“Well, I would’ve told you that at the bar.” Then he would’ve picked someone else and she wouldn’t have got this night with him.
“I thought you knew. You knew it was Incubi breeding night.”
“Some Selkie woman told me it was your one night to have sex.” Phoebe paused. The Selkie hadn’t just been looking for a good time. “She wanted your baby.”
Kearn grunted. “More likely she wanted the money.”
“Money?” This just got better and better. She pulled down her shirt so she was at least covered instead of baring all.
“Centuries ago, we started a fund to compensate the surrogates who bear our children. Did you not wonder why I’m a parasite?”
“You feed on people.”
“So do energy feeders and Vampires. Incubi need a host to grow our young.”
None of her thoughts were pretty. Was it multiples like kittens, or one? Or did it start off as many, and the strongest fed on the weakest in the womb until it was the only one left? “The host survives?”
Not that it affected her. Her uterus was a cemetery and nothing lived in there. Nothing had ever grown. Barren. It was the word that had killed her marriage. And now it was killing her one night stand. His ley lines dimmed.
“Of course. We aren’t killers, and never have been. Some women volunteer, for the money.”
“Then why didn’t you find one of them?” Why had he chosen her? Why had she chosen him as her first Meta? Because a night of sex with a man who could only do it once a year had been too tempting.
“Because there isn’t a registry in the Complex.” He sat on the arm of the sofa and rubbed his thighs. The movement seemed to calm him. “No Incubus has ever been with a human. I saw you, and I didn’t want anyone else.”
She’d enjoyed an evening of sex with an Incubus—which she didn’t regret. He, on the other hand, was clearly regretting ever setting eyes on her. “You really need to be more upfront about what you want out of a one night stand.”
He glanced up. “I’m kind of new to this. When I woke up this morning, my only goal was to make it through the first few fights and gain some status.”
“But you won.”
“Yeah, I won. I took the leadership from the man who’s made my life hellish for several years.”
“Before you moved here?”
“Before. He didn’t like the way I kept studying. He thought it was a waste of time as we will never be respected. He’s been leader for six years. Because of the size of our clan, we were told to volunteer. Here he’s an officer in the Climintra. He thinks power means respect. He hates that I earn more and that I’m respect
ed in my field.”
“Then you go home after work and you’re treated like the lowest.”
“I was the lowest. I got knocked out in the first round of the fights last year.”
“Oh.” Their society was so different. “Why do you stay?”
“Because Incubi live together,” he said as though there was no other option.
“Like a hive.”
“But without a queen.”
Her hand moved over her belly. They chose a new queen each year. It should’ve been her. She’d wanted kids once, but had resigned herself to having none. “I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s not too late to find someone who can give you what you need.”
Why was she apologizing? He should’ve said he was looking for a womb not a lover.
Kearn shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I did have fun.”
He smiled, but some of the light had gone out of it. Something had changed between them, and it wasn’t just the loss of lust. She’d do anything to take back her admission and take him to bed for round two.
She shivered, cold after the heat they’d shared. Should she ask him to stay or tell him to leave so he could find someone else? “What are you going to do?”
He was still, as though made of stone. “I don’t know.”
6
After the adrenaline of the fights, then the rush of lust, dawn left Kearn strangely numb. He knew he needed to get home. He had to go to work, and then this evening he’d have to call a meeting and do something leaderish.
He walked, not caring where he was going, before finally getting on a zipper. It was blessedly empty. He couldn’t deal with people right now, Human or Meta. He wanted to be alone.
That was terrifying.
How was he ever going to tell his people that he’d failed?
He’d liked Phoebe, she’d been friendly and interesting and interested in him—the other Humans he’d met were more wary. And he’d enjoyed the time they’d spent together. But instead of staying and using up the last drops of the hormone surge that made him want her he’d dressed and walked out.
Maybe it had just been the hormones, and if he ever saw her again he’d feel nothing.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the window. Winning sucked. But there was no way he could’ve faced Tavor and let him win.
When the zipper stopped, he wasn’t ready to get out.
Maybe this was the crash after yesterday’s high. That was all. He wished that was all it was. But it wasn’t. He’d screwed up, not just with his people, but with Phoebe. He shouldn’t have left her like that. They could’ve been friends if nothing else. That was one of the things he wanted other Incubi to try, having friends outside of the clan, and he wasn’t setting a very good example.
Incubi needed to stop hiding and be part of the experiment. People were watching the Complex to see what was happening. They would be making notes and writing things about the Incubi that weren’t necessarily true because they weren’t seeing or hearing anything to the contrary. The Incubi didn’t keep to themselves because they were awful people who couldn’t control themselves, they did it out of self-preservation. Centuries of distrust didn’t vanish overnight.
The zippper’s doors were open, waiting for him to get out. Kearn forced himself to move. He didn’t want to go in and see his clan looking like he was wounded. He took a moment to stretch as he exited and pasted a smile on his face. If anyone was watching him, they would think he was just fine.
In six months’ time when there was no baby, he’d have to deal with that problem. They’d decide that Humans didn’t make good hosts unless he admitted to making a bad choice. Maybe by then he’d be able to do that. He’d be established as leader and no one would care, and a few months after his rule ended, this experiment would be over. Then what? Then they went back to how it had been.
The idea wasn’t appealing. Being here had opened his eyes to new possibilities.
He shook his head. He was still messed up from yesterday. That was all. But the grating sense of dissatisfaction with his life was new. He hoped it disappeared fast.
It was still very early and he saw no one in the corridors, but his bedroom wasn’t empty. Levit was sleeping in Kearn’s bed.
He turned over at the sound of the door, then smiled. “I missed you.”
That was his simple reason for being there.
“I’m back now.” This was where he belonged, with the Incubi, not out there among other people.
“What was it like?”
Kearn got undressed without a word and slid into bed. He had an hour before the alarm went off. He snuggled up against Levit the way they had so many times before. But even the touch of another Incubus didn’t calm him. The unsettled tide of his thoughts followed him into his dreams and when the alarm went off, he felt worse than he had without the nap.
His body was heavy and he didn’t want to do anything but stay in bed and read.
Levit was watching him, however he didn’t ask any more questions.
Kearn knew he should ask one. “What happened here last night?”
It was the right question, as Levit’s face lit up. “Didn’t see Tavor all night. There were some murmurings about you not being suitable because of…well you know. But then Alroi was all, you’ve learned your lesson and proven that no one’s life or status is set in stone.”
At least the old man was publicly backing him.
“Everyone is looking forward to the gathering tonight. They all want to know what you’re going to say.”
Kearn would like to know that too. “I’m working on it.”
“No inside tips?”
He had nothing. “No.”
He knew that while it might be true that Levit had missed him, it was also true that by spending the night here, Levit had claimed the first place of friendship, lifting his status and also protecting Kearn from those who would try to get close.
Levit ruffled Kearn’s hair. “No matter what you say, some will hate it because you aren’t Tavor. But some will want to listen for the same reason.”
Kearn made it through the day. He’d almost convinced himself he was simply tired—which he was but it was something more. He didn’t like that his thoughts kept straying back to Phoebe. He shouldn’t be thinking of her at all, and yet given what they’d done, he’d probably be unable to forget her.
There was no way he was going to raise the issue with Tavor. He wasn’t sure that he even wanted to talk to Alroi about it. There was nothing that could be done anyway. It wasn’t like Phoebe was his host, so he had no need to ever see her again.
As he walked into the gathering twenty four hours after winning and becoming leader, he could feel the change. People were looking at him, not ignoring him.
Some of the older ones would be well aware of what he’d gotten up to. Some of the younger ones would be curious and be weighing their own chances of gaining leadership in a few years’ time. He glanced at Levit and then Alroi. Tavor was sitting close to the front. His status had barely dropped.
Kearn held Tavor’s stare until the other Incubus was forced to look away. He had to be strong and in control. While they all answered to the government, they had clung to their rituals and the need to have a leader.
They lived in their own little bubble. It was a problem, even though people had tried to study them over the years—socially and physically—they didn’t willingly share. Those who did tend to be open were often punished, shunned from the clan.
While moving to a different clan wasn’t uncommon, people did tend to ask why if there had been no trial period to see if the new member meshed well with others. This wasn’t Kearn’s original clan. He’d joined them to be closer to college years ago. If his father was here, he would’ve asked questions, but there was no way to contact him. There was meant to be no communication with those outside of the Complex, but everyone knew it could be done for a price.
He’d work this out. One day at a time.
Today he neede
d to say something about his past and about what he saw as their future—for the remainder of their time in the Complex. He would not talk about Phoebe until the time came. If the time came.
He wanted to be able to talk with Phoebe. He’d be able to learn more about the Humans, and that might be useful knowledge because she’d admitted that many Humans were keeping to themselves and they were wary of the Metas.
Gradually, the others stopped talking. Tavor had always ordered silence. Kearn was content to have them realize he was waiting. One of Tavor’s friends leaned over to whisper something—it wouldn’t be anything nice.
“Am I interrupting your conversation…please, we can all wait.” Kearn smiled, but there was no warmth or politeness.
Everyone looked Tavor, and not in the way he would’ve liked.
“Yesterday I was just as surprised as you that I would be standing here as leader. I know some of you think I don’t deserve it, or that I should have been banned from fighting in the first place. But I took my punishment, and I have learned. I have worked hard to be here.” He rocked on his heels and stared out at the faces. In a group, they blended together, their gray skin and ley lines confusing the eye. But to those who knew, everyone had different ley lines. They were how individual Incubi could be identified. Most Metas and Humans didn’t look beyond eye color and height. None would actually look hard at the ley lines. Would Phoebe be able to pick him from a crowd, or would she look at all the dark-haired, gray-skinned men and frown? He pushed that thought aside. It wasn’t relevant.
“I think we all need to work harder while we are in the Complex. We have wasted the first half of the experiment hiding away instead of mixing.”
“We don’t mix.” Tavor said.
There were murmurs of agreement.
“Actually, we did. Centuries ago, it wasn’t uncommon for a small number of Incubi to live in a town or village and pass as whatever Meta they were living as. Living openly in a clan is a much more modern thing. So when you talk tradition, you mean modern tradition.”
