by Tiffany Dawn
Incubus Makes Three
Dorian Black is a nine-hundred-year-old Incubus born of a Master Demon father and a mortal mother. As a spawn of the demon realm he is immortal and without a soul. He longs to earn a soul and gain his mortality in hopes of being visible to God and eventually reuniting with his mother in heaven.
The demon masters use incubi to suck out the darkness that hides within some human souls. Dorian’s work through the last millennia has been to seduce mortals and pull this darkness from them, transporting it to his masters. Once he provides enough of this human nectar he will be rewarded with a soul from the well of souls.
Dorian has been busy seducing and being seduced by local Florida con artist Gabriel. Unfortunately, he is becoming attached to the attractive grifter. He’s supposed to be sucking an entire soul from him, thereby killing the sexy young man. Meanwhile, he becomes mesmerized by the purity of Shari Worth, local veterinary assistant and do-gooder. He courts her in hopes of both distracting him from his growing feelings toward Gabriel and finding the chink in her selfless decency.
Matters quickly grow complicated in the spirit of a Shakespearean farce. Dorian discovers Shari and Gabriel are step-siblings that share a secret and forbidden love. As his feelings for both mortals grow he must decide whether to hand over Gabriel’s life in exchange for his new soul or sacrifice his long held goal to save the hearts of two humans he no longer wants to be without.
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal
Length: 29,421 words
INCUBUS MAKES THREE
Tiffany Dawn
MENAGE AND MORE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage and More
INCUBUS MAKES THREE
Copyright © 2015 by Tiffany Dawn
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-795-3
First E-book Publication: October 2015
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
About the Author
INCUBUS MAKES THREE
TIFFANY DAWN
Copyright © 2015
Chapter 1
The woman moaned low in her throat, ecstasy pulsing through her veins with each thrust of Dorian’s well-formed cock. He circled his hips to grind against her pubic bone, and she let out another keening cry. She was coming in gasping waves. He could feel her contractions pulsing as her juices dribbled out. He slammed into her warm sheath one more time before sliding out of her soft body.
His work was done. She was just as ruined by him as if she had sold her soul to the devil. He had introduced her to sexual depravity so intense that she would never find such release with anyone else, and he would never be with her again. What could he say? He was a natural born fucker.
Dorian left her on the bed still trying to recover and went over to gather his clothing from the dresser top. He strode confidently into the bathroom, not at all fatigued by the intense bout of sex. He ran the shower until the water was steaming hot and then stepped in to quickly wash her scent and touch from him. He had desired her but did not care for her. Another victory for the demon realm, another notch he could check off toward his freedom. Fuck her—she’d be fine, perhaps better without her dark bits.
Dorian guiltily thought back over the couple of weeks he had been seducing her nightly. Some of it had been enjoyable, but she was a duty, not someone he chose for his own purposes. He shook it off. Then again, neither was his upcoming assignment, Gabriel.
Gabriel was beautifully conflicted. A man sinning but not out of innate evil—only sin born out of confusion and desperation. He did not enjoy consuming those who could be redeemed. Dorian rolled his eyes, frustrated by his traitorous thoughts. He was too close to emancipation to let pity derail him. Until he earned his release from the curse of service, he remained chained to duty—as he had for hundreds of years. Just one more job. He could almost taste his freedom.
He flicked a spider hanging from a line of web and watched the small creature circle down the drain with his soapy water. Focus on the job.
Dorian turned off the water and roughly toweled himself drying his dark wavy hair. He returned to the bedroom where the woman was still breathing deeply, her eyes shut. A slight smile formed on her gently parted lips. It was time to feed and that meant he could drop his façade and let her have a first and last glimpse of his true visage. With a little shake, his corporeal form changed. He morphed from an attractive gray-eyed man of about thirty t
o a demon. Once exposed in his natural state, he waited for the woman to open her eyes and gaze upon his soulless black ones. She let her eyes flutter open as if she knew he wanted her to see him.
He couldn’t use mind control, but he could do other special things. She blinked her vision clear before letting out a blood-curdling shriek. He sprawled onto the bed, moving closer, allowing her to get a really good look at him. She pushed away from him. Her head slammed against the leather-covered headboard in panic. He smiled widely, his sharp fangs flashing white in the faded light of the room. She caught her breath and started to push against his hairless, cold hard chest.
His dropped fangs could pierce the layer of dark energy people had and suck it out. He wouldn’t break the skin, just the ethereal band that surrounded the human body and housed the mortal soul. It was when he moved in to feed that his victims finally saw him as a reflection of their own evil in living form. In reality, as a demon, he had no certain shape. This one certain law was his Achilles’ heel. Humans had substance. They had souls and bodies and existed only in one realm. He was a pawn trapped between worlds.
With a quick pull, he absorbed what he needed from her.
“What are you?” she stammered, shock etched across her pale face.
“I’m an incubus,” he calmly replied, rolling back on his heels and giving her some more room. He didn’t worry about her running. She was in no condition to do so. Even if she did scurry away, he could easily overpower her.
“What? What do you want from me?” Her face drooped as she realized the significance of what was happening.
“Just the blackest part of your human soul. You’ll be a better person without such evil, and my masters have a use for energy.”
She let out a defeated wail; tears flowed down her cheeks. “Please don’t kill me. Please.” Her voice choked on a sob.
It was always the same at the end. Dorian would eventually get bored of preying upon the carnal desires of dark-souled mortals and want to end things and feed. He would allow them to see him without the mask. The humans could only see him as a reflection of their own malfeasant consciousness, so the sight was always horrific yet unique for each one. He enjoyed the shock, disgust, and finally terror that this image evoked. It was what he deserved as such an abomination of humanity. He sometimes resembled a statue of David come alive, hard as marble, pale as chalk, and eyes that were all black with no white to offset the pupil. Other victims saw him as a scaly-skinned monster with deformed facial features and long tangled black hair. It was a bit different for everyone depending on what they had inside them. Fortunately, he saw himself as the attractive man he projected. Mayhap that meant he liked himself and there was some goodness in him after all.
He looked back over at the sobbing woman. She was curled up in a fetal position, failing to make herself invisible. He sighed and allowed his human form to once again take shape. No sense making her fit for Bedlam. He walked over to her and gently placed his palm on her forehead. He let just a little of his energy flow into her brain and whispered the words that would wipe her memory of him. He had already absorbed her darkness and fed from her energy. Now it was time to leave her to an empty fate. Okay, that was a bit melodramatic but he still smirked. When he pulled his hand away, she drifted into a deep sleep. She would soon wake unable to recall ever setting eyes on him. His work with her was done. She would never take the life savings of another naïve retiree with her Ponzi-like schemes.
Chapter 2
Gabriel flicked open his lighter and passed his palm over the flame. He let his skin slide close enough to feel a slight burn before snapping the cover over the fire. He slapped the back of his head against the driver’s seat headrest a few times, frustrated with his current predicament. “Fuck me.”
He shook a cigarette out and tossed the rest of the pack onto the seat. He flicked the flame back, lighting his smoke. Relief from nicotine withdrawal was instant. He needed to get his shit together. He’d managed to fuck up bad this time. He’d gambled money he didn’t have, thinking his luck had finally changed. It hadn’t. He was a loser.
Oh, he had good looks and charisma—at least enough to run a simple real estate scam on well-to-do divorcees but that wasn’t enough.
He wanted to prove he was more than a low-life grifter. He wanted to impress the one girl he couldn’t have. Now he was hoping to find a lifeline from disaster via a partner for his latest and hopefully last con.
Dorian Black was his salvation. Bullshit. He was something more. If he failed—well, whatever the loan sharks would do to him would end his pretty boy days for certain—and no Dorian Black could save him. Sometimes he wasn’t sure which predicament messed with him the most—the sharks, the girl, or the man.
He stubbed the rest of the cigarette out into the ashtray. Quitting was a bitch. He was okay when working on something but being in his car was a trigger. His fingers twitched as soon as he got behind the wheel.
Gabriel slowed down in front of her house. Damn it! Still no car.
He’d come back in another half hour. Please, Shari, get home—I need to talk to you!
He dreaded the look she’d give him once he explained to her how he’d fucked up again. She was a good person—beautiful, kindhearted. He was a scumbag always falling short of her standards. It pained him to have to ask her for help—to see her disappointment. He had to change and telling her what he’d done would make it a nonnegotiable reality. Shari was his heart and his stepsister. One of those things he couldn’t change as much as he longed to try. “Fuck me.” Less muttered this time than most.
Chapter 3
He was hungry. Actually, it was past time for Dorian to hunt again. He cleared his mind and entered the local grocery store, the Super Shop. It was a bit cliché, but it worked. He had his last trophy yet didn’t want to hand him over. He was purposely hunting for an alternative. Fuck. Since when did he care about humans?
Grocery stores were great places to meet people. Humans from all walks of life had to stock up on food. Everyone shopped, even a creature like him. And while he could sense a person’s true character, he couldn’t actually read their thoughts. Observing someone’s grocery shopping was as good a way as any to get to know about their daily lives. Which mortals lived off of microwavable frozen dinners—dieters or single people? Those flesh bags spawning children could be determined by the number and type of snack foods they piled into their carts. Heck, he could usually tell if a woman was serious with someone just by eyeballing the type of items she bought. Long-term couples picked up more comfort foods while a woman acquiring the fixings of a romantic dinner was often attempting to impress a new man in her life. He was grasping at straws, but he wanted to avoid feeding on Gabriel. Perhaps someone else would suffice?
Dorian strolled through the store, picking up the foods he’d learned to love in this century—the fresh bread and ripe fruits and vegetables from all over the world. It still amazed him how wide a variety of foods could be acquired with a quick ten-minute car ride to any grocery store in America. He did very little cooking on his own, preferring to pick up things from his favorite restaurants. Let the experts do the hard work. However, he did need the basics. He dropped a wedge of Jarlsberg cheese in his cart. He reached for some wafers and turned abruptly, picking up the scent of a new possibility. He moved slowly toward the artfully arranged display of ripe apples and caught sight of a voluptuous blonde carefully picking one. She was studying the fruit for signs of imperfection as if she planned to give them to an innocent Snow White later on. Her long red polished nails scored seductively over the fruit, and she picked one up to sniff. Her eyes gazed coquettishly at him. She knew exactly what she was doing. Women always enjoyed looking at him, and it would’ve been an odd trip to the supermarket to not have at least one approach him with a proposition on her lips. He strolled his cart farther, stopping a couple feet away from where she stood and looked directly into her lovely face. She might do. The masters would appreciate the darkness in t
his woman. And then he could keep Gabriel a bit longer. Hmmm.
“Are those the type of apples I need for a pie?” He lifted one up and caressed it in his palm, enjoying the way his innocent comment made her blink. She slowly angled her head up to expose her long neck. This definitely was a woman that enjoyed the chase.
“Oh if you like pie, you’d love mine,” she responded and then giggled. He was about to make a ribald comment but stopped. A blast of sensation nearly knocked him over into the precariously piled fruit. It was something he had not felt in so many centuries—something so rare it was hard for him to identify. He tipped his head back absorbing more of that intoxicating manifestation. He looked around to see where the sensation emanated from but saw only ordinary shoppers all about. The blonde cleared her throat, but he was no longer interested.
“I wouldn’t mind making pie this weekend,” she offered, taking the apple from his hand.
“Your pie no longer interests me.” His tone was chilly. He moved away from her far more intent on discovering the source of all that heavenly temptation. He abandoned his grocery cart, glancing up and down aisles, moving his head from side to side like a hound sniffing after a rabbit. Finally, after approaching several other women close enough to gaze into their eyes, he was able to hone in on his new prey. He closed the distance between them with a few strides. Bingo.
She was young, probably in her early twenties with wavy red hair pulled back from her face. She wore light blue surgical scrubs with little—he had to squint and look again, even though his eyesight was perfect—the scrubs had little dogs on them. She was reaching, propped up on the tips of her toes, her curved form pressed against the shelves trying to grab something from the very top that remained just a hair out of her petite reach. He extended his hand, pressing against the warmth of her fingers as he grabbed the small square box she’d been reaching for. Searing heat flowed through him with the single contact stunning him for a moment. He could smell her humanity perfectly now. She was vanilla and jasmine with maybe a trace of coconut from her shampoo mixed in with that certain something that was all hers. It was truly a scent straight from heaven. Not that he would truly know since he didn’t have a soul. He pulled the box down and watched her stare back at him expectantly.
