Incubus

by Janet Elizabeth Jones

  She’d probably wake up in a moment or two and struggle to remember these things for her dream journal. Back to reality, with her fear, pain and one good leg. But not yet.

  Caroline looked Meical up and down again, as boldly as she pleased, and watched his body respond beneath the close-fitting pants he wore. A shock of excitement licked over her erogenous zones and made her face burn. She didn’t know how to put it into words, this thing she wanted. She’d shunned the very thought of it for so long.

  Meical looked pretty clueless. He just stood there looking around with a smile that was pleasant and unknowing. It made her want him more.

  He ran his hand over the bed curtains and laughed softly. “Empaths have vivid dreams, to be sure.”

  She reached up and touched his smooth cheek. “I want to find out how vivid.”

  He looked confused for a moment, then smiled slowly and pressed her hand to his chest. Caroline felt his heart pounding under his soft white shirt.

  “You did say,” he cautioned, “that this isn’t what I need. It’s possible it isn’t what you need either.”

  She moved closer to him, wanting to see what he felt like in her arms. It had been so long since she’d held anyone. “Yes, but nothing’s real here. It’s all make-believe. I probably won’t remember half of it.”

  He bent his head toward hers, drawing her closer. His arms felt so sure and strong. Closer. Closer. “No, no. Anything worth doing…” His mouth was a breath away from hers. “…is worth making memorable.”

  Caroline rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. He closed his hands over hers and pulled her arms down to her sides. Catching the ribbon at the collar of her nightgown between his thumb and forefinger, he slowly pulled it loose from its petite bow and eased the garment off her shoulders. He bent to kiss her throat as he slid the nightgown down to her waist.

  Caroline drew a shuddering breath.

  “Don’t be frightened, Caroline,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re in control here. I’m just a part of the background.”

  He sank gracefully to his knees before her. With a soft exclamation, he took her breast in his mouth, first one and then the other. He rolled the flat of his tongue over her nipple and caught her close when she bucked away from him.

  “Meical…” she breathed, closing her eyes, “…how can this not be real?”

  “It isn’t. That is one thing you must not question.”

  His big hands circled her hips and tugged the nightgown down to her knees. Wrapping one arm around her, he lifted her, drew it away and looked at her as though he had put her on a plate and was sharpening the cutlery.

  “Caroline, you are so beautiful.” He looked up at her. “Not that you need me to tell you that. You surely know it’s so.”

  Tears burned her eyes, as real as anything else here. Beautiful, yes—on the inside, as a person, as a whole person inside. But physically? How long had it been since she’d let herself feel beautiful in that way? She had allowed all thoughts of her physical beauty to slip away in her trauma and rage.

  She wanted it back, everything she’d felt about herself before the attack.

  Caroline swept a hand through Meical’s hair. She’d wanted to do that from the moment she met him. “You can’t make me feel beautiful, you know. I have to do that for myself.”

  “But I can help, can I not?”

  He stood up and leaned close to her face to lick a tear from her cheek and rolled it around in his exquisite mouth as though it were sugar.

  “There are sweeter things to make you cry, Caroline,” he whispered. He drew his shirt off, keeping his gaze fixed on her. “I think we both know why you brought me here. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  Caroline watched, mesmerized, as he dropped his shirt on the floor. When he reached for the broad black belt he wore, she could scarcely breathe. He unfastened it slowly and slid it out with a whirring sound. His fingers closed over the button fly of his breeches. By the time he was unclothed, her breath came in gasps, and she shook all over. He was so big and beautiful.

  Meical caught her hand and drew her into a kiss that was no more than a tease. She moaned, wanting to devour him. He backed them into the bed and drew her down on top of him.

  Yes, this was exactly what she wanted, what she had wanted the moment she pulled him out of the snow. Ears roaring, head spinning, drugged by arousal, Caroline kissed him again and then knelt between his knees. She just wanted to look at him, take in his long, muscular body with her gaze. A field of riches. All hers.

  Meical reached over his head and clasped the headboard with both hands. His voice was as hypnotic as the dose of adrenaline running rampant in her bloodstream. “You have nothing to fear. You’re the one in control. You cannot be hurt. You may do as you please. I will do only what you tell me to do. And if you’re frightened, we’ll stop.”

  Whoa. Meical seemed considerably less clueless suddenly. Was she really in control?

  A schism opened beneath Caroline. The sunshine dimmed a little and the colors in the room faded. The room itself seemed to tremble as though it might crumble and blow away.

  Caroline reached out quickly and flattened her hand on Meical’s taut abdomen, like reaching for a lifesaver, and the room became bright and colorful again.

  No darkness. No pain. No fear.

  She slid her fingers downward, following a line of chestnut hair down to his shaft. Her need intensified with the smooth, soft feel of him in her hands, hardness beneath smoothness, heat and throbbing life that made her long to have him inside her.

  “I think my imagination got carried away,” she whispered, running both her hands up, then down. “You’re very well endowed for a dream.”

  Meical laughed softly, but the laugh ended in a grunt in the back of his throat. She closed one hand over the head of his erection and with the other hand sought the sensitive place beneath his scrotum. She watched his mouth part and listened to his breath come faster. He liked that. Yes, he did. How awesome to feel this power, the power to please and not be afraid.

  She bent and nuzzled that hidden spot she’d found underneath, and he gasped her name. She ran her tongue across his belly, nipping as she went, until she crouched above him and looked him in the eyes. He ground his teeth together. A flood of heat poured out of him, as tangible as the taste of him on her tongue. His hunger wove around her, embraced and welcomed her.

  Mindless with need, Caroline held her breath as she climbed up his body and sheathed him inside of her, dying from the pleasure of it. She moved slowly at first.

  “Tell me what you want,” he murmured.

  “Push.”

  He lifted her with his hips.

  “Oh, yes,” she moaned.

  Caroline caught his arms and held on. He hardened deliciously when she bore down on him, pushing her closer to release. Tears sprang to her eyes when Meical changed his rhythm, undulating between slow, deep thrusts to circling his hips beneath her. Meical locked an arm beneath her good leg and lifted, opening her more so he could stroke her in front.

  “Come out of that silent, dark place you’ve been keeping yourself, Caroline Bengal. Let me hear you.”

  As though made to order, a half cry broke from deep inside Caroline’s soul, followed by a litany of moans she couldn’t hold back. No more silence inside her now. She couldn’t stop crying. The first flutter shot through her core, draining the strength from her arms and legs. Her lungs heaved for air. The enormity of what waited, just beyond the precipice, overwhelmed her. She felt it sweep upward inside her, spilling into his body and back into hers again, his ecstasy feeding her own.

  Meical caught her hips and thrust hard, holding her down on him while she sobbed and bucked in the onslaught of their combined hunger. She peaked again and felt him turn to concrete inside her. Seconds later he gasped and moved beneath her like an ocean wave, filling her with the creamy warmth she longed for.

  He drew her down to him and held her close, slowing his movements until she
lay limp. She was sure she’d never move again. No strength. No muscles or bones. Just flesh, joined to his, warm and wet and safe in his arms. He ran his hand down her wet back, murmuring something sweet about sleeping late.

  And sleep she did.

  Chapter 7

  Talisen approached Ellory from behind just as the moon slipped behind a cloud, and a light rain began to turn the sand underfoot to mush. In the distance, somewhere down shore from the deserted beach on which they waited, the inhabitants of sleepy Camden were going to bed.

  And some of Ellory’s fledglings were just beginning their night’s hunt.

  Talisen rose up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Don’t give up. Maybe he’ll show up this time.”

  He shook his head. “Three nights in a row and still he hasn’t shown. We made our request clear. Everyone knows we’re looking for Meical.”

  “But we’ll wait anyway. We won’t give up on finding him.”

  Ellory drew her around from behind him and pulled her close. “Assuming there’s anything left of him to find.”

  The pain Ellory exuded made Talisen wince. His emotions traveled like water drops on a wire, straight to her soul. She shook her head and kissed him again quickly. “If Meical was gone, wouldn’t you feel it? And if he was beyond saving, this vampire we’ve been waiting on wouldn’t put the word out that he knows where Meical is. Whoever it is we’re waiting on, he—”

  A wave of energy filled the night chill with a momentary heat, bathing the damp air with a scent Talisen couldn’t place. She gasped in the rush of power.

  Ellory tightened his arms around her. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “That’s no hapless wanderer,” she breathed. “He feels—”

  “Like an Ancient, yes. And he’s just announced himself without a bit of fear for his safety. He’s strong, this one.”

  Talisen probed with all her senses, as she had learned to do in her first few weeks as a revenant. “I can’t find him. Can’t get a fix on him.”

  “Don’t bother trying. He’s sizing us up,” Ellory added with a snort. “Typical of his generation.”

  She followed his gaze as he eyed the woodland behind them, the boiling clouds above and the rising ocean beyond. The wind fell still, and then everything else did, too.

  Suddenly, Ellory flew backward out of her arms and hit the sand about six feet away. An arm materialized from out of the dark to clasp her around the waist, and a hand caught her under the chin. The Ancient’s touch was gentle, but the fever in his skin stung her. It was the fever of severe hunger.

  She swallowed her scream and fixed her eyes on Ellory, who’d picked himself up and now stood with his exquisite mouth gaping at whoever had hold of her. He recovered his composure in a heartbeat and gave her a reassuring, if pained, look.

  “Don’t move, Talisen.”

  She drew a ragged breath. “Not planning on it.”

  She heard the sharp intake of breath from her assailant. He pressed his nose into her hair, and his chest expanded against her shoulder blades as though he were filling his lungs with her scent. A sigh, ending in a moan, filled her ears, made its way into her mind, into her very veins…

  “Talisen,” murmured Ellory. “Stay with me.”

  She shook off the lethargy that crowded out her awareness and nodded at him. Maybe you’d better do that dissolving thing to me you’re so good at.

  Ellory drew at his lip with his teeth. But you hate it.

  Turning to sand and slipping through his fingers is a lot better than being sucked dry.

  He shook his head. It’s too risky. He’s volatile. And…well…

  What?

  He knows you’re a revenant.

  Great. Everybody hates revenants. At his age, he’s bound to hate them more. Ellory winced. Actually, at his age, he’s more likely to feel exactly the opposite and think you’re my plaything.

  Talisen frowned at him. You’re not making me feel better.

  The Ancient nuzzled her neck with his stubbly chin.

  Ellory, do it.

  It could backfire on us. I could end up spending the rest of the night sifting bits and pieces of you out of this beach.

  I’ll take my chances on being Humpty Dumpty. Get me out of this. Now.

  Not like that.

  All right. What’s your plan?

  Keep your focus on me. He can mesmerize you, so if he speaks to you, don’t answer him.

  Ellory?

  Yes, love?

  I’m scared.

  I know.

  Ellory sidestepped in a half circle with his hands upturned in a gesture of peace, but Talisen took heart in the raw steel she heard in his voice. “The delicacy you’re holding in your arms is mine, blood and body. Release her.”

  The husky, youthful voice that answered Ellory shattered Talisen’s idea that she was in the grip of an old codger. He sounded like he was barely twenty. “You did good work on this one. Revenants make such a sweet feast. Human blood and that of our kind, all in one fountain…”

  The depth of his appreciation, backed by the raw power he exuded, was enough to make Talisen’s head pound. Ellory…

  Ellory stepped closer. The bite in his voice bore a promise of retribution. “She isn’t chattel. She’s my mate. Let her go.”

  The scent on the stranger’s skin flowered on the breeze again, clouding Talisen’s thoughts. Such an old aroma, so provocative. What was it? Patchouli? It was oddly familiar. Who did it remind her of?

  Ellory’s voice broke through her musing. Stop thinking about him. He’s trying to draw you in. Your only protection is our unity. Resist him.

  He smells really good.

  Talisen…please…

  But not as good as you do.

  She grinned, caught the arm that held her and gave it a good shove—not that it made a difference—but it got her point across. “Look, Wonder Boy, let me make this clear without the flowery language you’re used to. I’m spoken for. If you don’t let me go in the next six seconds, Ellory’s going to do his best to rip your guts out. If he doesn’t manage it before you kill him, I will. Between the two of us, you’re not going to have a nice evening. So why don’t you stop wearing out your welcome and tell us what you know about Meical Grabian’s whereabouts?”

  She braced herself for the possible ramifications of her bluff. Ellory seemed frozen. He gaped at her as though she’d just sealed their fate.

  The vampire behind her was silent. That could mean he was going to break her neck, or it could mean he was considering making a show of patronizing mercy by letting her go.

  What she wasn’t prepared for was his laughter. It echoed off the woods and the waves and cliffs. He was laughing at her. In spite of her relief that he was capable of genuine amusement, it made her want to pull his arm hair out.

  “In all my three thousand years of night,” he said, “never have I been spoken to in this way. Certainly not by a revenant.”

  Three thousand years? Talisen felt the first bloom of panic in her chest. This Ancient was as powerful as the Alchemist.

  She caught another whiff of his signature scent, a dizzying mix of cool night breezes on thirsty desert sand, green rushes, musk, cypress, frankincense and…blood. He’d feasted very recently, but apparently, it hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy an appetite as old as his.

  She fidgeted again.

  Ellory edged closer. “Our revenants turn out a bit more modern than what you’re used to. She is, however, the sun in my sky. Let her go.”

  The vampire ran his hand through Talisen’s hair, and her fear turned dull and distant, like her thoughts. Dark velvet softness dragged her down to a place she didn’t belong.

  Talisen. Ellory’s voice jerked her back to the surface. She felt his love surround her, laden with a vampire’s stark possessiveness.

  The Ancient behind her laughed again, except this time he was inside her mind. Had she done that to herself by speaking to him? Ellory had warned her.

  He gives y
our leash a cosmic snap, he taunted, and you’re his again. I say again, he did very good work on you.

  Unexpectedly, Talisen was free. She swayed into Ellory’s arms. He caught her close, held her until she thought her ribs would mesh and then steadied her on her feet.

  Talisen turned to face the stranger. A world-weary soul returned her gaze, a soul as dark as the Alchemist’s and as dulcet as Freya’s, a soul steeped in the madness of hunger.

  He was an inch taller than she was, no more. Lithe and sinewy, with glossy, black curls that fell to his shoulder, he looked like a prince from another time and place. Just as his scent seemed familiar to her, so did his swarthy beauty and the intelligence in his gaze, the square jaw, the exotic mouth, the black-brown eyes that held an eternity of history, wisdom, life and death.

  “I am hunting the one you call the Alchemist,” he murmured.

  “Whatever business you have with Neshi is your own,” Ellory returned. “Do you or do you not have news of our friend?”

  “He has been ill-used by Benemerut, but he’s alive.”

  Who dared to address the Alchemist by his first name? Not even Freya, the queen.

  The Ancient lifted his chin, his eyes full of the kind of rage that revenge makes friends with. “Benemerut has done our kind a disservice we will rue for ages. I am the only one who can stop him.”

  “Great,” said Talisen. “We’ll help each other.”

  “I need no one’s help, sweetmeat. I am here because I wish to confirm what I have heard.”

  “Which is?”

  “I am told, she who calls herself your queen will applaud anyone’s efforts to rid you of Benemerut.”

  Ellory took another step closer, head-and-shoulders taller than the ancient vampire. His voice was breathy with menace. “You speak of Freya Bloodmoon, midget. She is our queen.”

  The Ancient fixed his gaze on Ellory, nostrils flaring, eyes glowing red with vehemence. His voice was as smooth as before, but his words came out in clipped, sharply enunciated English that barely masked an older tongue. “Queens I have known. True queens. In my time, our kind was not ruled by the children of our race.” He gave Talisen a stern glance. “And though our revenants were beloved by us, they understood their place.”