by Holly Hood
“So tell me about you,” he told her, throwing an arm around the back of his couch to get comfortable. He stared at the side of her head, enjoying her soft brown hair and how it draped down her shoulders so effortlessly, waiting to hear whatever she was about to spill. Girls were unpredictable and sometimes he liked to hear all the inane stories they came up with to try and impress a man.
Her name was Abree. She was Latin, with the yummiest honey kissed skin, a tight little body with just enough to grab onto—just how he liked them. What could he say he was an ass man—and also a boob man. He eyed her tiny little waist that was decorated with a silver belly chain.
“I am a waitress by day and I attend college at night,” she said, giving a mischievous nod. She kept a connection between Frankie and herself at all times, subtly resting her hand on his thigh or little by little playing with the ridge of his jeans.
Frankie nodded his head. “What kind of things are you into, Abree?”
She smiled, enjoying Frankie’s spellbinding blue eyes. “Karaoke. Tattoos. Partying.”
Frankie gave her a high-five. “I think tattoos are hot.”
“But you don’t have any.” She noted, her eyes wandering over the length of his body. All the way down his hairless torso.
“I’ve never been a fan. Call it tradition. In my family we do not ever violate our temples.” He leaned in for a quick kiss. “But I would love to violate your temple.”
Abree giggled, falling back on the sofa. She kicked off her black pumps in a rush to get down to business.
Frankie trailed a single finger mischievously down her nude body. “Such a perfect body, why waste it with such insignificant things like belly rings and chains,” he muttered, winding his finger little by little around the delicate metal. He held his smile as to not frighten her. And with a swift tug he ripped the belly chain and ring clean out, tossing it across the room. Abree let out an agonizing screech, fighting to get away from Frankie.
“Shh. Don’t fight me. Nobody can hear you anyways.” He kissed her forehead, guiding her gaze to his. Her thrashing slowly ceased and she eagerly kissed Frankie back returning to normal. Frankie too had the capability to calm a person right down whenever he wanted. It was one of the really amazing powers he possessed. One he couldn’t live without. It made taking what he wanted so much easier.
“What are you?” Abree gushed in between passionate kisses. Her once drunken stupor was replaced with a fleeting euphoric haze, one that would last as long as the sex did. But little did she know the longer she selfishly took all the pleasure Frankie was giving to her, the quicker she would die. It was a matter of Frankie doing it for her or her maybe making it halfway into the apartment parking lot before she dropped dead on her own, just one of the perks of being an incubus. Frankie didn’t have to worry about pesky love or any of those bothersome feelings. Because the moment he wanted to love a woman was the moment he knew he would end up destroying her anyway. He wasn’t stupid like his brother. There were very few women that could survive what they were.
“They call me an Incubus. Others say demon.” He kissed her neck, licking her earlobe. “My kind survives on sex. Now how cool is that?”
Abree hesitated. “I thought that was some legend. We learned about it in college. My professor said incubus prey on woman in the night when their asleep, to have sex with them.” She had some facts sure, but nothing in a book was going to be as good as the real thing.
“Maybe back then they were lazy enough to wait until they were sleeping, but not anymore.” He grabbed her by the throat, a sick premeditated grin on his face. “Now, we take whatever we want, whenever we want. And right now I want you.”
An earsplitting scream filled the apartment. At last after a moment of struggle Abree’s body dropped on the floor bumping into the coffee table, motionless. Frankie stood, totally naked and satisfied. He moved about his apartment looking for trash bags.
“This shall do.” He smiled, shaking one open, throwing her personal items in. He heaved the body over his shoulder. “Down the incinerator you go, sweetie. I must say you were an animal in the sack. Such a shame it had to go to waste.”
Brotherly Loathe
Sam finished off his coffee, sitting in the booth on a dreary morning, unaccompanied. He busily read down the newspaper, making a mental note of the shocking amount of missing woman in the area.
Frankie sauntered in the diner, arousing attention from every female nearby. He gave a loud stretch and yawn combo, stopping at his brother’s booth. This brought Sam’s attention to him. “Hey there, Sam. Or is it Vance? You haven’t clued me in on what you’re going by nowadays.” Frankie pulled the menu from in between the ketchup and napkin dispenser.
“Vance. Sam was the other state.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, studying his brother’s healthy looking glow. One he himself was lacking. He had awoken with dark circles under his eyes and a nasty headache.
“It’s sort of like River. I used to use it all the time years ago. But now I have a backbone and don’t give two shits what anyone thinks about me.” He grinned, but it was overlooked by his brother who was now blocking him with the diner menu.
The busty redheaded waitress approached the table. Pad of paper in hand. “Can I get you something to drink, sir?”
Frankie scooted toward her. “Do I look like an old man to you?” He winked, causing her cheeks to warm.
“I’m sorry. They tell us to address all patrons as sir and ma’am.” She swatted her bangs from her eyes timidly and stayed eyes glued to her pad of paper, waiting for Frankie to offer up his order.
“Coffee black,” Frankie said, raising an eyebrow. He grinned, watching her walk away in a daze. He loved toying with woman it was a lot of fun.
“Don’t waste your time,” Sam told him, setting his menu on the table. “She’s a young girl who clearly has no experience dealing with a guy like you.” Frankie’s gaze immediately gravitated back to the redhead at his brother’s words.
“Aren’t those the best kind? Besides, I don’t think any of these women have experience with the likes of either of us.” He smirked.
Sam wasn’t amused. He shoved the paper across the table. “Fourteen women are missing in this area alone. And you’re just running around with that shit eating grin on your face. This is going to catch up to you.”
“Oh, come on, Vance.” Frankie leaned back, a devious smirk evading his expression. His light blue eyes twinkling with sick intentions that Sam could read a mile away. He knew his brother inside and out.
“You really need to get a hobby,” Sam muttered as the waitress returned. He noticed her hair was now swept up, revealing her neck. He rolled his eyes, watching Frankie take off on the easy chase.
“When’s your lunch break?” Frankie whispered, fiddling with the napkins.
She blushed. “Whenever I want, I mean, I could ask.”
Frankie took a quick swig of the hot coffee. “Let’s go.”
Sam watched Frankie lead the red head to her death. Knowing she wouldn’t be back to finish serving coffee. An unexpected rush of anxiety fluttered over him. The diner brought back memories of Rose. The one that got away.
Rose was a mistake he made back when he ran on pure animal instinct. He had whipped himself into such a frenzy—much like Frankie did on a daily basis. That he twisted sex into something more. Incubus didn’t take kindly to rejection of any kind, most times their victims didn’t get a chance to reject or even want to. But Rose had a conscience and she did just that. He felt bad for what he did to her, but he never imagined she would stick around after to make him feel even worse. He never expected her to live.
He pressed the button on his cell phone. Delaney’s perfect image stared back at him. He had no idea how to get out of this situation. He didn’t even know if he would make it past the wedding with Rose on his heels. One slipup and she could open up the past and show him for who he really was. Rose didn’t know he was part incubus, but she did know he was a b
rutal violent man. She saw him as an animal who tried to kill her. He was surprised she hadn’t told Delaney already about her fiancé’s dark past.
He returned his phone to his pocket. Frankie appeared in the doorway adjusting his shirt and fiddling with his belt. He took a seat across from his brother.
“How’d that go for you?” Sam asked, even though he didn’t want to hear any of the grisly details.
Frankie studied his hands closely, wiping off some blood with a napkin. “We had a nice time. And then she said she just had to go for a swim. I told her it was cold outside, but she didn’t care.” He lifted his coffee mug in a form of cheers before he brought it to his lips.
The Plan
Delaney collected her books, class was over. She took her usual spot outside of her college campus. Sitting on her favorite bench parked neatly between the water fountain and a large cactus. She pulled a book from her purse, getting comfortable as she plunged herself deep into an old French novel. Manon Lescaut. A book suggested to her by Vance. She remembered his exact words—that the book was near and dear to him.
She wished there was a better meaning in the story, for the book wasn’t one she would call her favorite. It had bad qualities written all over it. Delaney couldn’t figure out why her fiancé fancied a story where the hero was a crook and the female protagonist a whore. But she immersed herself in the book for weeks trying to get inside the mind of her fiancé.
Her brown hair fluttered against her face as the wind blew. She pressed two fingers against the pages of the book to hold them in place, intensely engrossed. Not aware that just behind her was Vance’s brother, Frankie, lost in deep focus on none other than her.
Frankie had to admit Delaney was something to look at. Her fair complexion fitted with her dark auburn hair was a bit breathtaking. The poise the girl exuded caused him excitement in places other than just the groin area.
He little by little crept up behind her, getting close enough to make out the soft honey brown her hair emitted in the sunlight. And the silver necklace she was wearing around her neck. He watched her sleek finger skim without a sound across the book as she read silently.
“Hello,” Frankie said all of a sudden. She drew up her shoulders startled, before she finally rested the book next to her and craned her neck to see who was behind her. He noted her uncertainty for a few brief seconds. She had only met him one time. Sam would have settled on none at all if he had it his way. He wanted Delaney far away from him. And now as he looked into her green eyes he knew exactly why.
“You’re beautiful,” Frankie blurted. Delaney dropped her gaze, throwing up an instant wall. Frankie stepped closer, extending his hand. “I’m Frankie. We met a little while back. Vance’s brother.”
She cautiously dropped her hand into Frankie’s palm, his fingers enclosing slowly around hers. “I thought so. Frankie, how are you?” She held his gaze, as his hand held on a little too strongly to hers.
“I’m great. Nothing better than an afternoon stroll through campus.” He smirked, taking an uninvited seat next to her. His thigh pressing into hers and this was making her uncomfortable.
“I didn’t see you at the engagement party.” She pointed out; fingering the French novel he was confident his brother had convinced her to read. It was Sam’s way of silently confessing his sins. Frankie thought it was ridiculous. It was a lot like their life in some ways, and that got under his skin.
Frankie shrugged. “Yeah, that brother of mine must have forgotten my invite.” He turned, giving her a grin, his eyes meeting up with hers. He held back the urge to make her bend in his favor. He knew with just enough effort he could have his way with her. But he held back. “But I wish the two of you much happiness.”
Delaney smiled. “So what brings you to campus? Are you taking classes?”
Frankie wasn’t about to explain that he knew way more than any college professor could share with him. “I took a friend to lunch. You might know her. Alison Cramer.”
He watched Delaney roll the name around in her head. She knew no one by the name. It was merely someone his brother had savagely ended years before her. It gave him a bit of pleasure to toy with the beautiful girl without her even knowing.
“I can’t say that I do know her. But, I got to be going. I am going to meet some friends for lunch.” She lifted her book, resting it in her lap. Frankie could tell by her pause she had something more to say to him. “I just had an idea.”
Frankie raised his eyebrow, his light blue eyes scanning hers.
“You should come for dinner. I think it would be good for Vance to spend time with family. He is so far away from home.” She touched his forearm, silently begging him to oblige.
Frankie nodded. “Should I bring anything?”
***
Sam scanned the grocery store for the list of ingredients Delaney had sent him out for. She promised that she has a pleasant surprise in store for him. He didn’t like surprises. And he knew this meant something was going on that more than likely wasn’t going to be wonderful to him.
And besides that he was feeling rather hungover for lack of a better word. He knew he shouldn’t have caved and fed on a woman, let alone used one and then let her get away. Sure she almost certainly was dead somewhere. But to him it was a waste and now it was wearing on his conscious and body.
It made it very hard to fight the urge to make love to Delaney as he watched her bound around his kitchen in a peach colored sun dress. The way her breast looked in the gauze fabric—he almost broke.
He rubbed his temple with one hand, pushing the cart along with the other. He stopped in front of produce staring down at the red peppers. The overhead lighting making them glow with a warm aura. He picked one up, breathing in the unsullied odor.
An older woman across the way eyeing her own pepper smiled at him. She was probably early forties, short brown hair, red lipstick, tone and trim, wearing a nice pantsuit.
“Aren’t these just beautiful?” she asked him, sliding her finger seductively across the skin of the dazzling red pepper. Sam ran his tongue along his bottom lip. The aching in his head, coupled with the arousal in his pants was close to incapacitating him. His finger broke through the pepper. He tossed it on the ground. She was already making it over to him. And he was already shaking his head in disdain at yet another big mistake that was about to transpire.
The older woman shoved the bathroom door open, letting out cheerful giggles that she was about to be manhandled by the likes of Sam. He was sure she probably had a middle aged husband at home. So to her this was probably an escape.
Sam bit at her neck, pressing her face into the mirror. He tore the button off her dress pants, sliding the zipper down with just his index finger. She moaned noisily as Sam pressed his arousal into her from behind. Freeing his arm from her greedy clutch, he locked the bathroom door. He didn’t want any unforeseen guest bolting in. He was going to get exactly what he needed to feel healthy—even if it was only for a few hours.
Sam slid his hand down the front of her pants, watching her expression in the mirror. He turned her to face him, quickly looking away as she tried to plant a kiss on his lips.
“No kissing,” he breathed, offering his neck.
He gripped the back of her head, wincing at her over eager teeth nipping at his flesh. He had enough, he lifted her against the sink, and took control. Giving her what she wanted the whole time. Her screams were grating on his nerves, he covered her mouth with his hand as he let go, his bother shuddering under the release of energy. The intoxicating high that ran through all his extremities was wonderful and just what he needed. He kept going, his body not wanting the sensation to stop.
“More.” She managed to get out from behind his hand. He tightened his grip, covering her nose as well this time. Her fight was no match for Sam. And there was barely any part of him remaining that cared she was slowly suffocating under his clutch. He worked his hips faster and faster, letting out a low growl of pleasure as he relea
sed again and again, his headache a thing of the past.
Her body fell limp against the mirror and ceramic sink. The woman’s legs the only thing still swaying from Sam’s momentum. Sam zipped his pants, out of breath. He carefully slung the woman over his shoulder, unlocking and peering out the bathroom door. There was no one in sight. Making a quick turn in the wrong direction, he wandered out behind the grocery store to the dumpster. Swearing he was just as big of an idiot as Frankie. He tossed the lady in the trash. His phone vibrating in his pocket the instant her body thudded against the trash and the lid slammed shut.
“Hey Love. Just seeing if you were on your way home,” Delaney said sweetly.
Sam adjusted himself, the moment in the restroom between him and the woman was still lingering down below. His eyes darted around the alleyway in hopes of staying discreet.
