by Katie May
otherworldly.
And an added bonus? I didn’t immediately want to kill him. That could
change, though, once I deciphered which side he was on. For all I knew, he
was a fellow assassin or Assistant looking to gather information on Z. I didn’t
recognize his name or face from the files though, but Incubi were masters at
disguises.
Despite my suspicions, I didn’t detect anything other than sincerity in his
words. There were no malicious undertones, no threats. I trusted my intuition
with my life, and just then, it told me to trust this Nightmare just like it had
told me yesterday to trust the Mermaid. I should’ve been terrified of him. He
could, in a matter of seconds, turn me into a withering mess of nerves and
sexual tension. He could make me orgasm with the snap of his fingers.
While an Incubus’s power may have seemed less than the power of the
other Nightmares, it was still immensely dangerous, perhaps even more so.
There was something frightening about the loss of control Incubi evoked
within you. Your body suddenly wasn’t your own; your emotions didn’t
correspond with your desires.
That aspect, the loss of free-will, was terrifying.
And slightly familiar to me.
The Incubus - Killian - rubbed a hand through his hair. The pale red,
almost garnet, colored strands stood on end. His mouth opened -
And abruptly snapped closed as a dagger flew through the air, catching
him in the shoulder.
I gasped, spinning around with my hands raised despite the fact that I was
supposed to be Zara the Assistant, not Z the assassin.
Nobody was allowed to harm Killian.
I didn’t know where that thought came from, only that it was true. I
imagined I would’ve felt something similar if the person had been Mali or
Diego.
The Shadow materialized mere feet away from me, axe raised as he
prepared to deliver the killing blow onto Killian’s prone form.
“For Aaliyah,” he whispered.
Before I realized what was happening - before I stopped to think about
anything other than saving Killian - I pounced on the Shadow, my own
dagger raised.
I wasn’t thinking coherently at the time. All I could focus on was the
blood seeping through Killian’s fingers, at his wide-eyes staring up at the
assassin, at his face turning paler and paler as the blood cascaded down his
stomach. I recognized the assassin, vaguely, as a member of The Damning. I
couldn’t recall his name nor why he had been chosen. For all I knew, he
could’ve been like me: a good man at heart sent to kill the horrors that ruled
our world.
At one point, I might’ve even helped him end the Incubus’s life. But I
wasn’t thinking clearly, wasn’t able to see beyond the red sheen of anger that
coated my vision.
The Shadow would pay for harming what was mine.
Blood sprayed on the white carpeting. My dagger sunk deeper and deeper
into the Shadow’s jugular, his gargled screams muted by the blood filling his
mouth. His eyes, full of shock and despair, gazed at me helplessly. He clawed
at my arms and face, his nails ripping at my skin. Still, I didn’t release him.
As I felt his energy deplete and his body go limp, I prayed that I would be
forgiven. We were one and the same, after all, though we apparently fought
the Nightmares for different reasons. But he had hurt Killian...an Incubus that
I barely even knew yet felt protective towards. This was purely my one
chance at retribution.
Now that the threat was eliminated, I scrambled to my knees besides
Killian. He was gaping at me, eyes volleying between the dagger protruding
from the Shadow’s neck and my blood-soaked clothes.
“Are you okay?” I whispered harshly, removing his hands from the
wound to assess it myself.
“How did you…? You killed him!”
I didn’t dare meet his eyes. For reasons unknown to me, I couldn’t bear to
see the disgust and judgement I knew would be evident in his gaze.
“Incubi heal with sexual energy, correct?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“Who can I grab for you?”
The words were difficult to get past my suddenly dried throat. The
thought of anyone touching him made me sick to my stomach. And slightly
murderous.
“I’ll be fine,” he grunted.
“You’re not fine! Who can I grab to help speed up the healing?”
Finally - finally - I dared to glance up at him. His eyes were fixated on
me, but instead of the disgust I had expected, there was only fascination in
his gaze. He stared at me as if I was a fine piece of silk he longed to
purchase. He stared at me as if I, in my blood soaked clothes and with my
spaghetti hair, was the most beautiful girl he had ever set eyes upon. My
heart thundered against my rib cage.
“I could…” My voice croaked, this time for an entirely different reason.
“I could help you.”
I was offering myself to an Incubus?
What the hell was the matter with me?
I didn’t know the answer to that, but I did know with absolute certainty
that I longed to heal him, both physically and emotionally. It was similar to
what I felt with Lin and even what I felt with Dair.
“You don’t…” His cheeks burned brightly even as he grimaced with pain.
“You don’t have to.”
“Just tell me what I need to do.”
I felt suddenly shy, and I imagined my face was just as red as his. There
was a dead body only a couple feet away, and we were discussing...well...I
wasn’t entirely certain what we were discussing.
“Would kissing you help?” I asked timidly, and his Adam’s apple bobbed
as he swallowed.
“Yes.”
I kept my eyes locked on his as I leaned forward, and he tilted his head
down. Our lips met in the sweetest, most innocent kiss imaginable. His lips
tentatively moved against mine.
Unsure.
Inexperienced.
“Is this okay?” I asked against his lips.
His answer was a grunt.
“Yes.”
Sensing hesitancy on his part, I slid my tongue between his lips. His body
tensed beneath mine before he returned the kiss, meeting me stroke to stroke.
His hand slid over my back and into my hair, the touch as light as a moth’s
wing. He held me as if I was breakable glass, as if he was terrified I would
shatter to pieces at the mere application of pressure.
I grabbed one of his hands and held it just above my breast, giving him
permission to touch me there if he so desired. He let out a moan of pure bliss,
hesitantly groping my heavy mound. I mewled like a cat when his fingers
pinched my nipple beneath my shirt.
Note to self: don’t wear bras anymore.
My panties were soaked, and I wanted his hand down there. Or his
tongue. Or his dick that I could feel pressing against my stomach.
He pulled away from me with a blistering speed. His eyes were wild.
“I...I’m healed now.”
He scrambled to his feet, his arousal plainly evident through his pants.
“I neeeddd to go.”
And then he left.
; The bastard fucking left me alone with a wet pussy and a dead body.
Maybe I should’ve just let him die.
SEVENTEEN
BASH
The two girls were arguing over the effectiveness of a particular plant
in healing. Arguing over a fucking plant.
I placed my head into my hands, unable to decide if I was amused
or annoyed. It was only a night ago when I had taken both girls to my bed...at
the same time. While they had seemed to enjoy it, I found myself wishing it
was over. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. My magic had been
running haywire since The Matching had commenced. One second I would
be minding my own business, and the next tiny flowers would be growing or
sparks would emit from my fingertips. I had tried to talk to my father about it,
but he had lazily waved me away.
It was too time-consuming for him to have a five-minute conversation
with his only child, apparently. I considered talking to my brothers about my
predicament, but I didn’t want to hear what they had to say. I was irrationally
pissed at my brothers. No amount of booze could soothe the anger I felt.
Dair, with his droopy, wistful expression.
Devlin with the fucking half-smile on his face.
Lupe and his damn soliloquies.
Ryland and his stalker tendencies.
Jax’s tingly blood.
Killian’s damn boner.
All of my brothers had found their mates. Was I supposed to feel happy
for them? Proud? All I felt was an incandescent fury at the cruel world and a
smothering depression at my own misfortune.
Frowning, I took another swig from my beer bottle. I was already slightly
buzzed, despite it being still early in the morning.
The Matching was in full-swing. Women from all across the world were
being groomed to be our future wives. If we didn’t find our mates in a year,
these horrid, superficial girls would become our futures.
Correction, if I didn’t find my mate in a year, one of these horrid,
superficial girls would become my future.
I had followed them out to the garden where Mrs. G was discussing the
usage of plants in medicine, hence the reason for the argument between
Lover 1 and Lover 2.
I glanced at the two girls once more, brow furrowing in confusion. They
were attractive, I would give them that, but they didn’t cause me to melt into
a puddle of lust. I had tried taking both of them. Hell, I had even tried having
them take each other while I watched.
Nada.
Not even a little jump from my flaccid dick.
Was I embarrassed that I couldn’t get off while two beautiful women
attempted to pleasure me? Maybe. If anything, I was confused and slightly
concerned.
I didn’t know what I would do with myself if my dick was broken. I
needed it almost as much as I needed food and water. A world without my
dick was not a world I wanted to live in.
And then I thought of the other reason. The reason I knew my brothers
would bring up if I discussed my problem with them.
I could hear them now.
“Most Mages,” Lupe would say, an imperious set to his chin. He would
clear his throat before beginning once again. “Most Mages would be
incapable of being with anyone other than their mate. That would also
explain your unpredictable powers. She’s here. In the Capital.” It would also
explain my dreams, though no one knew about them. Hopefully, I could keep
it that way.
Killian would probably gripe that he wasn’t the only one with an
unworking dick. Personally, I would rather have my cock hard all the time
than the limp fucking noodle it was now.
Jax would say some weird-ass shit that had nothing to do with anything.
And the others? They would give me a knowing smirk, as if they
themselves weren’t whipped by females they barely knew.
I didn’t want a mate. Never had and never would. Why would I want to
be tied down for the rest of my life? That sounded about as appealing to me
as jabbing my eye out with a rusty needle would’ve been. I didn’t believe in
love, and love was the foundation for mates. Lust and infatuation, maybe, but
love? Supernaturals believed that our mates originated before we were even
created. A soul was split into two in the early stages of development and then
were separated when we came to earth. For our entire existence, we would
look for the other half of us, the person that would make us complete. Half
the time, we never even knew that we were supposed to be looking. We never
even knew that we were empty until that person came into our lives like a
freight train.
Bull shit.
Love didn’t exist.
And mates? They were an absence of free-will and choice.
Frowning once more, I took another swig of alcohol. I had just woken up,
and I was already dying to go back to sleep again. My eyelids drooped, and
my head lolled against my shoulders. At least after I dreamt, I would be able
to find some release.
“WHY ARE YOU HERE?” she asked, tone husky. My dick hardened,
pleased by the heat evident in her eyes. She looked so beautiful sprawled out
on my bed. Perfect.
And mine.
“Why did the cock cross the road?” I asked instead, basking in the giggle
that followed my question. She had never struck me as the giggling type of
female. It still did funny things to me when I heard such a magical sound.
“Why did it cross the road?” she finally caved.
I held my dick in one hand as my eyes surveyed her perfect body. She still
wore a flimsy robe, and her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders like
golden silk. She was so beautiful that my heart physically ached when I
looked at her.
“To get to the backside,” I said, grabbing her tiny waist and spinning her
around. She squealed, the sound making my already hard cock twitch. The
movement forced her robe up, revealing her golden ass to me.
We talked about this a few times. I knew for a fact she had done it with
the others...and liked it. I also knew that my girl was a kinky shit. She would
love it if I were to call one of the guys back into the room. One in the front,
and one in the back. We may not have swung that way with each other, but
we all agreed that seeing the lust in her eyes was worth it.
Maybe next time I would allow one of them to join us. For now? She was
mine.
Every last piece of her.
I WOKE WITH A GASP, heart hammering in my chest. The garden was
empty, save for a few critters exploring the grounds.
What the fuck?
This wasn’t the first time I had dreamt of her, this mysterious girl. One
time, we had been making love. I had held her so tenderly in my hands, as if
she was my entire world. She had stared back at me with something I would
almost describe as love.
Almost. If I didn’t know how unloveable of a bastard I was, I would say it
was that emotion. But it couldn’t be. I didn’t love, and I didn’t expect anyone
to ever love me in return.
In some of my dreams, we were doing nothing but talking and laughing.
Others, I was pounding
into her.
And always, I would wake up with a raging boner that could only be
soothed by my good old friend, Mr. Hand. I would imagine her perfect lips
wrapped around my cock and explode.
Today was no different, though I felt slightly awkward jacking off in the
middle of a garden on a stone bench. Still, I welcomed the release, and I came
with a loud cry.
Once that... situation…was handled (get it? Hand led?), I tucked my now
flaccid dick back into my pants and headed inside. Father was probably
looking for me by now. He may have been the king, but he was a lazy son of
a bitch. Responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders at a very young age. It
was nearly staggering, the weight he put on me, and I wanted nothing more
than to drown beneath it.
“Where the fuck have you been?” a strident voice demanded the second I
stepped foot into the Capital. Devlin hurried towards me, eyes wild and
mouth pursed. His violet eyes locked on mine.
“Hello to you too,” I drawed lazily. Sue me for being a cynical bastard,
but I wasn’t in the mood to talk with any of my brothers, particularly Devlin.
He was an asshole on the best of days - his protective instincts even worse
than Lupe’s - but lately, he had been something else entirely. Moody and
brooding and dickish. He was quicker to snap than previously, and he always
looked moderately constipated. I knew he was angry at the world. I couldn’t
entirely fault him on that. He had once admitted to me - after I had gotten him
wasted on Fairy Wine - that he had found his mate but had been forced to
leave her. Apparently, she had fallen in love with a human shortly after he
had left.
Another reason why I didn’t want a mate. Bitches were never loyal.
The bond was supposed to be unbreakable; the two individuals connected
by such a string were supposedly inseparable. To know that it could be so
easily broken, or at least ignored, gutted me and shattered the wistful
fantasies I had held since I was a child. Younger me had been a hopeless
romantic...and a dumbass.
“Killian’s been stabbed,” Devlin said through clenched teeth. I could tell
his anger wasn’t directed at me but the situation. At his words, I felt my body
grow cold.
“Is he…?” I couldn’t bear to finish that question. If something were to
happen to my brother, my best friend, I would murder everyone in this god-
