Incubus

by Celia Aaron

  “You sure are innocent for a…” The words died in my mouth before I could wedge my foot between my teeth.

  Anne didn’t miss a beat. “My mom was a nymph.” She shrugged, her breasts bouncing jauntily with the movement. As if that explained it all. And it kinda did. Nymphs were known for being extremely open with their bodies and sexuality. It was like breathing for them. “I’m not exactly innocent, but I am fresh from the Underworld. Once my immortality set in, I got the itch to explore life with mortals, so I came to Paris. Then I met Corinne and Roth. They’ve been great. I’ve never been happier.”

  I examined my feet. “And you don’t feel like Corinne and Roth, you know? Like they sort of—”

  “Take advantage of me?”

  Anne caught on quick. She rested her dainty hand on my elbow. “Trust me. I’m here because I want to be here. Roth hasn’t laid a hand on me, though I wouldn’t have minded.” Her eyes went dreamy at the admission. “I’m mainly here for Corinne. She’s got some tricks a girl like me can appreciate, I can tell you. And since she’s a succubus, she needs more than Roth’s sexual energy to feed from. They could never only be with each other. They need an infusion of fresh heat sometimes, if you know what I mean. And I’m just the kitten to give it to them.”

  Corinne was a succubus? It made perfect sense. No wonder Roth kept her around. They could give each other a dose of the sexual energy that was necessary for them to live—like rechargeable batteries. Which meant what? That he was trying to stop banging everyone in town and stick with one female? Yeah, right. And he’d chosen Corinne? Of course he had. She was the yin to his yang. They were a perfect pair. A jealous twinge sparked in my breast, and I cursed myself for even thinking of Roth as more than the manipulative sex fiend he was. Weren’t you the one groping him a second ago? Shut up, inner voice of reason!

  “Hit it and quit it, huh? I’m definitely gonna start using that.” Anne tweaked one of her own nipples.

  I recovered enough to pick the conversation back up. “Well, you’ll learn the slang in no time. I’ve been engrossed in the mortal world for the last hundred years or so. They tend to rub off, you know? I’ve become rather fond of pop culture.” It felt odd to admit, but I’d become somewhat comfortable with my life away from the slopes of Olympus. There were things I would miss once I returned to Artemis and my sisters. The impermanence of human life made them prone to greater flights of imagination and ability than many immortals seemed to possess, which gained my admiration. “Besides, it can be kind of fun. Down here, the world’s always changing. Not like living with Artemis on Olympus.”

  During my time on earth, I had traveled quite a bit, seeing things I never could have imagined while living among my sisters. Devouring great literary works that were written after I was transported to Olympus was one of my favorite pastimes. I read plenty of the deep stuff, but had to admit my love of the Brontës was fierce. Even though their stories were about torrid romance, something I hardily eschewed. Sure, there had been men who showed interest in me—mortals and immortals I met during my work or when I was out and about—but I quickly rebuffed their advances. I became known as something of a spinster in Underworld circles, but that never bothered me. It was better that males avoided me, because I never had any interest in them.

  Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t made a single friend in the century I’d been in the mortal world, preferring my solitary life over sharing it with others. Not even when I was encamped at Desmerada’s castle, surrounded by Underworlders and immortals like myself, did I ever open up to anyone or seek out companionship. Looking back, I realized all my time and effort spent on getting back to Artemis had closed me off from any sort of real connection to the world. But why would I want to make connections on earth or in the Underworld when I would leave them and never return, ever to be in the service of Artemis in the Forgotten Forest? It would be a waste of time, that’s why. Right? I shook off the troublesome thoughts. No one would stop me from getting back to my sisters—not Roth or Anne or anyone else.

  Anne’s next question jarred me from my musings. “Wow. You lived with Artemis?” Anne’s eyes had grown wide with wonder.

  I barely stopped myself from doing a wicked palm-to-forehead. I’d let my guard down and just given away more information in ten seconds than I had during my entire exile. Way to go.

  “Anne, could you do me a favor and keep that info to yourself?” I said it all in a rush.

  She winked. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thank you.” Thankfully, my stomach let out an angry rumble before I could screw up any further.

  After listening to the woeful growl, Anne began shooing me out the door. “What am I thinking? You must be starved after being so badly injured, and I’m here talking your ear off. Go ahead and eat. I’m sure Bart has something ready for you downstairs.”

  “Um, thanks.” I took my chance to escape and continued my way down the stairs and into the dining room. Bart had outdone himself, because the second my foot hit the bottom stair, a delicious aroma wafted to my nose. I did my best to walk nonchalantly into the room but faltered at the sight of roasted lamb chops with rosemary potatoes.

  “Do sit down, madam.” Bart arranged fresh rolls in an overflowing bread basket.

  He didn’t have to ask twice. I took the closest chair and began filling my plate. Anne was right. I was more ravenous than I could remember being in my life. After demolishing what was on my plate and finishing a second helping, my appetite was finally sated. Bart was kind enough to pretend not to notice my horrible table manners as I downed the meal. It was only then I understood how much better I felt. The fury venom was a powerful toxin; I was lucky I hadn’t died. After daintily wiping the crumbs from my mouth in an effort to regain some of my ladylike-ness, I rose from the table and thanked Bart for the delicious meal.

  He positively glowed with pride at my compliment. “But of course, madam.”

  I needed to return upstairs and start work on the first chapter of the book. Roth had to believe I was serious about turning his life into a work of Underworld pop fiction. But, if I were being honest with myself, now that I was learning more about him, I truly wanted to record the story of his life and death that I found so remarkable. The ruse was working almost too well.

  Instead of heading for the stairs, I decided to take a turn in the garden. I needed some fresh air to try and clear the cobwebs from my head and regain my focus. Once I was outside, the twilight had come and gone, and night covered the grounds. I crossed the open pathway and spied a padded bench beneath an arbor covered with roses. Reclining beneath the fragrant petals and looking up into the stars that twinkled through the open patches of sky, I tried to get my thoughts in order.

  Instead of concentrating on crafting my opening chapter, my thoughts kept straying back to Roth the man, instead of Roth the immortal. The image of his sacrifice so many years ago on the ancient Parisian streets struck a chord deep within me. He wasn’t just a Casanova out to seduce women for sheer sport, but a man who’d been unwillingly transformed into the incubus. My new view of him didn’t figure into my initial plan of turning him over to Ares. And wasn’t that a kick in the lady bits.

  I shifted on the bench, putting one hand behind my head as I continued perusing the stars and petals. I was on a path just like the stars, one that never changed. It didn’t matter how much I liked Roth, I couldn’t stop now. I hadn’t come this far to quit. And if I did, my life would be forfeit. But not only that, my body and soul would belong to Ares, for him to do with as he pleased. I shuddered in the warm night air at the thought of him touching me.

  “Cold?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. The voice had come from beside my elbow, where no one had been only a moment before. I sat up in a hurry, scraping my arm against one of the thorny canes as I went. A young man stood next to me, suave in appearance with gelled hair and a well-fitted Armani suit. He had a smile that would have been even more dazzling if it weren’t
for the sharp canines jutting from his mouth. His eyes, a lustrous blue, stared at the trickle of blood that flowed across my forearm.

  “Paris, I presume?” I hastily wiped the blood onto the side of my jeans.

  “Such a waste.” He sat beside me, uninvited.

  I moved to rise, but Paris put a firm hand on my knee to keep me in place.

  “Let me go.” I surreptitiously edged a hand down to the dagger stowed in my boot, but the vampire was on me quicker than my eye could follow. He deftly slid the blade from its hiding place, his hand lingering on my thigh for a moment before he took his seat again. Disarmed in an instant, I could do nothing but sit and wait for the handsome devil to strike.

  “I’m not here to harm you.” He offered me the blade, hilt first. Though not trusting him for a second, I took the peace offering, holding it at the ready should he change his mind.

  “Then what do you want?”

  Though his suit was as dark as the night itself, I could tell he had a towering frame that promised speed and agility. His face was beautiful, almost too handsome to be believed. Yet there beneath the perfection was something that hinted at sadness. It was written in the lines around his eyes, ones that spoke of a time when he was happy, but no more. His appearance belied his true nature, for everyone in the Underworld and on earth knew the stories about Paris, his lust for blood and conquest. He’d killed so many—humans and immortals—that no one was keeping score anymore.

  He was ruthlessly hunted by his own kind, and I well knew Desmerada’s spies were ever watchful for signs of him. He was marked for death the instant she gained enough power to become queen, for he was the true king of the vampires. Desmerada was only a pretender to his throne, the one he swore he would never claim. But he had outlived numerous assassins, still bringing death to any who crossed him. He was the most dangerous immortal alive, and he was sitting next to me and considering me with a hungry gaze.

  “I just want to talk with you.”

  “About what?”

  He could easily kill me, blade or no, and I trusted him about as far as I could throw him.

  He leaned forward, sparing a glance at the runes on my neck. “I’m curious why a servant of Artemis is here instead of in the company of the goddess.”

  The blood drained from my face. If he knew my secret, it was only a matter of time before Roth found out, and I’d already let the cat out of the bag to Anne. Even so, I refused to be intimidated. “I’m no longer in her service, and my reasons are my own.”

  The bastard smirked at me. “Tell me, how long ago was it that she cast you out?” The question hit me like a slap to the face.

  “Wha-what makes you think I was cast out?” I tried my best to seem nonchalant.

  “Oh, I know quite a few things. Now, answer my question.” He placed his hand on my knee, gripping it tightly and making me want to cry out from the sharp pain. He watched me closely, trying to learn my secrets. But why should he care about my past with Artemis?

  “Tell me!” His fangs lengthened to terrifying points as he leaned in close. I flinched at his harsh tone but still would not give in. Paris likely hadn’t been refused anything by anyone in quite some time, but I wasn’t about to divulge any of my secrets to him.

  “No! Now get your hand off me.” I tried to wrench my knee from his grasp but it was like struggling against an iron manacle. I looked him squarely in the eye with a bravado I didn’t feel. The intensity of his gaze was beginning to make me feel light-headed. I tried to look away, fearing he was going to enthrall me and then—

  Come to think about it, Paris was an obscenely handsome man. His blue eyes were tantalizing, hypnotic. The “why” of being here wasn’t important. I needed him. The blade dropped from my hand as I straddled him, overcome with my need to feel his body pressing into mine. Was I actually thinking of using the dagger on him? Ludicrous.

  “That’s it.” He gave me a rakish smile and settled his hands on my hips, bringing me in close to his strong body. I relished it, loved the feel of being so close to him. I couldn’t wait another second and brought my lips to his. Oh, gods.

  “Wait, wait.” He pulled back. “Now tell me. When did you leave Artemis’s service?”

  “A century ago.” Why was he asking questions? I needed him on top of me right now. My answer made him look the slightest bit crestfallen, but I took the opportunity to claim his delicious mouth. He answered with a firm kiss that made me melt for him, so all I could think of was having him inside me, pronto. It was an agony tearing myself away from him, but I needed to lose my clothes and his as soon as possible. I leaned back and stripped off my shirt but couldn’t go another second without his kiss.

  He gripped my shoulders and held me back. “Hold on. Just a few more questions.” He wanted me to keep my clothes on? Surely not. “Was there another sister of yours, a warrior with powerful magic?”

  Why would he want to know about anyone else but me? I batted the thought away, intent on tasting him again.

  “With golden hair and green eyes?” His eyes darkened. “Perhaps a mark on her neck? Just here.” He stroked across my throat with his fingertips.

  “Elena.” My closest sister was a knockout, by mortal or godly standards, and she had a red birthmark on her neck just as he’d described.

  His eyes lit at my words. He was no doubt pleased with me, pleased enough to take me here, under the stars. Surely.

  Already, I felt on the edge of letting go, the pressure building inside me until—

  “Paris!” Roth’s voice boomed through the night, and in an instant, I was shoved aside.

  My heart broke into a million jagged pieces. “Paris.” I was already on the verge of tears for being separated from him. Roth had tackled my precious Paris and was tussling with him on the ground.

  “Stop! You’ll hurt him!” I looked around for the blade I’d had only seconds ago that my beloved Paris had handed me. I would take the blade and kill Roth for hurting my sweet Paris.

  No. Wait. I shook my head to try and clear it as the males rolled and punched on the ground before me. Something wasn’t right. But what? I sat back down on the bench and, looking up at the arbor, tried to remember what just happened. I was lying here, looking at the roses, and then… Things began to come into sharp focus, and my ears began ringing as if I were shell-shocked. Giving my head another hard shake, I felt the fog lift. It was replaced with sharp rage.

  “You son of a bitch!” I redoubled my efforts to find the blade, but now for an altogether different purpose.

  Roth had gotten the better of Paris and was on top of him, his hands wrapped around Paris’s throat. With a powerful kick, Paris sent Roth flying backward into the koi fountain. I readied my dagger, but Paris blew me a kiss and was gone.

  The fanged bastard had skipped, a power only vampires possessed, which allowed them to travel short distances in the blink of an eye.

  Roth flew out of the water and howled with rage when he saw his quarry had disappeared. He yelled into the night, “Paris, I know you can hear me. If you ever touch her again, I’ll send you to Hades myself!”

  I thought I could detect a diabolical laugh on the wind in response but couldn’t be sure.

  One look at Roth made me take a breath. He stood, drenched from the fountain, his shirt clinging to his muscled body, and his hair hanging in wet ropes. The embers in his eyes were smoldering pits of pure anger that made me hold my ground, not wanting to raise his ire further. But when his gaze alighted on me, there was something else radiating from him.

  He rushed to me and kissed me roughly, staking a claim that I belonged only to him. Being swept up in his arms and captive to his sensuous mouth sent my every nerve ending tingling. He was demanding yet gentle as he cradled my face with one hand and pulled me to him with the other. I should have pushed him away, but my body answered his call, yielding to his powerful touch. His tongue explored my mouth, taunting and teasing in a way that made me desperate for more. No one had ever had this effec
t on me—not in my time on Olympus or on earth. Not even Farrow. It was as if Roth answered a question I never knew I’d asked. I wrapped my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes and loving the feel of my hands in his wet hair.

  The wind blew by again, a violent swirl of chilly air, and this time it carried a definite voice.

  “Tick tock, Lilah.” The cruel whisper made my blood run cold. The threat was implicit, and it came not from Paris, but Ares.

  29

  Roth

  I knew she was burning for me, wanting my touch and more, but then she turned cold again, backing away from my embrace and ending the passionate kiss I would dream about for centuries to come. Why?

  She stood away from me, needing a second to steady herself before turning her back to search for the shirt she’d removed for Paris. The very thought made me let out a growl, the incubus growling right along with me. But what had turned her from a blaze of heat and sensuality into the walled fortress I now saw before me?

  Before I could even ask, she had pulled the shirt over her head and said evenly, “This is just business. That’s all. It has to stay that way. We can’t get involved like this.”

  “Which one of us are you trying to convince, carissima?”

  She ignored me, then hurried past and into the house, leaving me unsatisfied on a multitude of fronts.

  I took a seat on the arbor bench, still intoxicated from the taste of her on my lips. She’d had me under her spell until something spooked her. Could it have been the incubus? The demon seemed to scratch its claws down the inside of my chest at the very thought. Its denial was palpable. If not it, then what? I wasn’t certain, but I did know one thing for sure. She would answer my every question, and soon. I couldn’t enthrall her like Paris had—the very thought of the vamp made me tense into a ball of unspent fury—but I had ways of making her talk, though I was more inclined to make her moan. Either way, I’d get the information from her, even if she wasn’t inclined to give it. It’s only a matter of time.