An Incubus Only Calls Your Name Once

by A M Boone

  “Might as well give the lady what she wants…”

  He finally thrust into me, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. Fuck, he was thick, but he was right. It didn’t hurt. I was just stretched. Full. Even though Anthony wasn’t even a third of his size, it was usually painful with him—when he remembered I was his wife, that was.

  For what felt like eternity, neither of us moved. Quiet pants escaped my lips as I swallowed down sweet air.

  Then he worked his hips, and my mind shattered. All that came out of my mouth was jumbled moans, his name, and every cuss word in the book and then some. White hot heat pooled between my legs, that knot in my belly tightening and tightening… It was going to snap, and then…

  He whispered sweet nothings in my ear with every thrust, in both English and demonic whispers. Every single one sounded beautiful. Each time he hit that sweet spot inside of me, I saw stars.

  “I’m… I’m coming—”

  “Not yet, you aren’t.” He gently took my face in his hands and forced me to face him. “Remember this. You’re mine now, understand?” He slowed down, to the point where I was sure I was going to either come or lose my mind.

  I couldn’t say anything.

  “You can’t work for anyone besides me. When I call you, you have to be ready. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I mumbled, my tongue lolling out of my mouth.

  “Good. You look beautiful like this. And the energy…”

  He pressed his lips to mine again, and I opened my eyes. Fuck me. He looked completely demonic, with tendrils of darkness extending from his back and wrapping around wrists and ankles. His eyes glowed, and black and red marks marred his smooth skin…

  I came, my vision whiting out, that knot deep within me snapping. I squirmed underneath him, my chest heaving, a cry ripping from my throat.

  “Looks like the deal’s sealed, Miss Delacroix.” He caressed my face gently, and his voice was the last thing I heard before passing out.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, I woke up in the most luxurious sheets ever. Soft silk brushed up against my skin, and my body sank in perfectly—

  Wait.

  I opened my eyes and glanced around the room. He was adjusting his tie, in yet another immaculate suit.

  Well, shit. It wasn’t a dream. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d wake up and be back in my roach filled apartment with Anthony, though. That my one out—the one way for me to escape his wrath—was nothing but a stress fueled dream.

  “Good morning, Miss Delacroix. I trust you slept well?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Put your clothes back on. We’re going to have breakfast, then take you to go get cleaned up.”

  I nodded.

  He’d laid out my clothes on the nearby dresser. I slipped them back on, my whole body aching. Even my head was spinning.

  Was this what they called a “bang over?” Santi usually bragged about giving half the damn school them.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To breakfast.”

  That didn’t answer my question, but I followed him back to his car anyway.

  He glanced at me. “Look. You’re not going to die. If anything, this’ll make your life better.”

  “How?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Me, of course.”

  Figured.

  “I make more money in twenty seconds than you do all year, I’m more powerful than you can comprehend…”

  I sighed. “Whatever.”

  “Aren’t you grateful? Who knows what else that asshole could have done to you?”

  He was right about that. All it took was one night, one outburst of anger, and I would have been six feet under. At least now, he’d never bother me again. Twelve years, down the drain, just like that. If you had told fourteen-year-old me I’d eventually get pushed to the point where I’d make a deal with a demon to murder my husband, I would have laughed at you.

  * * *

  The drive out to wherever he was taking me for breakfast went on in silence. I stared out the window, my thoughts whirling.

  Since last night, I had:

  One. Gotten my husband killed.

  Two. Became the debt slave to a demon.

  Three. Gotten fucked until I couldn’t see straight by said demon.

  And now four. Getting ready to go to Denny’s or wherever with him.

  Even now, the aftereffects of last night were obvious. The way my body ached if I moved too quickly… But the worst part were the twinges of arousal that still shot down my spine from time to time. Nearly twelve hours later.

  He stopped in front of a small, unassuming mom and pop restaurant. Great. Knowing him, it was probably populated by demons, witches, and werewolves.

  “Is this a normal restaurant?”

  “Normal?” He turned back to stare at me.

  “Human?”

  “Yes.” He rolled his eyes.

  Now that I’d gotten a better look at him, he was different than he was last night. Definitely shorter and slighter, and his hair and eyes had darkened to a reddish-brown. He looked nearly human, and something about it was almost comical. Even his hair was shorter and curlier, hovering around his shoulders instead of his hips.

  “You look different,” I blurted out.

  “I can’t go to a business meeting looking like I did last night. I’d either get laughed out the building or have the police called on me. Neither would be particularly desirable.” He took my hand and started walking.

  “Hey, wait—”

  “Are you going to walk like a normal person, or am I going to have to carry you?” He gave me the stink eye, but his voice was light.

  My face burned, and I stumbled a little before following behind his long strides.

  Yeah, he was shorter, all right. Last night, I barely came up to his chest, while today, I was eye level with his shoulders. How tall was he before? Six-six? Six-eight?

  “Six-ten, to be exact. You’re not short. If you must know, at the moment, I’m six-four.”

  Explained why he wasn’t seven feet tall on TV, at the least.

  “Do you measure yourself before going outside?”

  “I don’t need your sass, Miss Delacroix. I don’t pay you to have a sharp tongue.”

  “You don’t pay me at all!”

  “Exactly.”

  I huffed. Jesus Christ, this man was insufferable. Working for him was going to be a pain in the ass.

  As soon as we got inside, a leggy blonde waitress greeted us.

  “Mr. Aldana, always a pleasure.” She broke out into a huge grin. Ten bucks said he’d fucked her too. “Your usual booth?”

  He nodded.

  “And your companion?”

  “My new assistant, Eliana Delacroix.” Just a hint of sadness was in his voice.

  The waitress’s eyes widened. “So soon after Daniel?”

  “Not now.” He raised his hand. “She hasn’t been trained yet, but I… I believe she’ll be perfect for the job.”

  She nodded, her eyes dipping down to my neck. “I believe so too.” She grabbed two menus, then led us to a corner booth with a lovely view of the parking lot.

  But why would he eat at a place like this? He was filthy stinking rich, and had been for years. Why would he choose some podunk diner in the middle of nowhere? Maybe it was to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. I shrugged and settled down in my seat.

  As soon as we sat down, he thumbed through the menu. “You need to eat something. I don’t want you fainting on me.”

  “This isn’t getting added to my already massive debt, is it?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “What do you think?”

  “Yes?”

  “For the love of the memories… I have standards. It’s not, I promise. Now order something. Anything.”

  My stomach growled, but I wasn’t hungry.

  “Order something, or I’m going to order for you.”

  Rude. I
was a grown woman. I could eat—or not eat—whatever I liked.

  I glanced over the menu. It was normal, greasy spoon diner fare… Nothing was all that appetizing.

  “Do you even have to eat?” I asked.

  “Everyone enjoys a good meal,” he said, as if that explained everything. It didn’t.

  The waitress came back. “So, what can I get you, Miss Delacroix?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  She turned to him. “I’m assuming you’ll get your usual?”

  He just nodded, and then stared me into the ground.

  “And a couple of pancakes?” I said.

  She scribbled it down on her notepad, then bounced away.

  He rubbed his temples. “Am I going to have to force feed you?”

  He’d probably like that.

  “After what happened last night, I don’t think I’ll ever eat again.”

  “Was I that bad in bed?” He gave me a wicked smirk. “You don’t have to lie.”

  There was no point in lying anyway, he could just read my mind and figure out the truth.

  About ten minutes later, the waitress came back with a couple trays of food. Two cups of coffee, a small stack of pancakes with a cup of syrup on the side, and a tiny omelet with bacon and hash browns on the side.

  Nope. No. Too normal. Way too normal. A man-eating demon shouldn’t be eating something that normal. Maybe it was secretly made of human flesh?

  “You really aren’t ever going to let that go, are you?”

  My stomach growled again, and I forced down a few bites. Ugh. They just had to be fluffy and soft, with just a hint of sweetness. Just had to be.

  I glanced over my shoulder. What if the cops were waiting for me and that’s why we went to Bumfuck, Nowhere? I was too young for prison, and—

  “Look,” he said, pointing his fork at me. “You’re not going to get dragged away and thrown under the jail. I have friends in high places.”

  I stared into my plate and shoveled another bite of pancake into my mouth. Here I was, having breakfast with the demon who ate my shitty husband and saved my life. What a world.

  But how was I going to cover this up? Anthony’s parents were rich and had connections I could only dream of. If they wanted me dead, they probably could have killed me when he proposed.

  And debt collection… that could mean anything from asking nicely to breaking kneecaps. Had I jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire?

  “Did you get your last assistant this way?”

  “No.”

  That “no” meant “don’t pry.”

  “I see.” I dumped sugar and creamer into my coffee.

  The rest of our meal went on in silence, and when he was satisfied with the amount I ate, he tossed some money on the table and left.

  Before we got into his car, he paused, and said, “Your life isn’t over. The energy you’re giving off right now is dark, heavy, and frankly, kind of unappetizing.”

  “But that’s all I am to you, right? A walking, talking, lunch bag.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. ” Maybe getting a makeover will get you in a better mood.”

  I sighed.

  * * *

  We drove out to yet another small town, this one about two hours away. You know the type. Where there were more cows than people, no high rises, and we’d probably have to get out before sunset.

  A few people milled around on the main street, but something about them put me off.

  He parked in front of a tailor’s shop. Next door was a hairdresser’s, and across the street, a shoe and accessory shop. Huh. This was where I was going to have my awesome makeover at? He was a billionaire. Why was he going to mom and pops when he could go to some high-class boutique in SF where one shoe cost more than I made in a year?

  “All right. Go knock yourself out. I have business to take care of, so I’ll see you in a few hours. Tell Marie I sent you.”

  “Wait, what—”

  He booted me out of the car and drove off.

  I took a deep breath, then opened the door. A tiny bell above me tinkled, and the smell of fabric and dust tickled my nose. Yup. Definitely a mom and pop.

  “Hello? Is anyone here? My name is Eliana Delacroix… Vincent Aldana sent me to get new clothes…”

  An older woman came out of the back room. “Oh, hello there.”

  I gasped. She had six arms.

  “Um.”

  God, that sounded pathetic. But what did you say when a lady came out with six arms?

  “Don’t worry, dearie, I don’t bite. You much be Vincent’s new assistant. You’re adorable! Come here, I need to start measuring you…”

  “W-what are you?”

  “Oh. Right. He called me this morning. Not in the loop.” She put two of her hands on her hips. “I’m a friend of his mother’s. You can call me Anne-Maria. Marie, Annie, Anne, I’m not picky.”

  “Right,” I choked out.

  Besides the extra arms, she looked like any other doddering old lady, with salt and pepper—but mostly salt—hair, horn rimmed glasses, and was dowdy and a bit plump with dark skin, but her eyes… They were pitch black, and my reflection shone back at me in them… Like insect eyes.

  “Are you a spider?”

  “Animali-Spider demon. On my mother’s side. Now, let’s get started.” She motioned for me to follow her to a back room.

  Spider demon. I swallowed down a shudder.

  “If you could take off your shirt and pants, please?”

  I nodded, and then shed my clothes, my face red hot. Why hadn’t he let me take a shower? I probably reeked of him—of sex.

  But he most likely wanted everyone to know.

  If she smelled it, she didn’t react, and just wrapped measuring tapes all over me.

  “You’re chubbier than his last…” She pinched my stomach. “I suppose that he’s getting less shallow with age. All of his past assistants were models or near it.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t meet her gaze.

  “Don’t worry, don’t worry, you’re quite pretty. And with some of my clothes, you’ll be stunning. A few suits, a few dresses… Yes, indeed…”

  “I thought he’d take me to some high-end boutique in San Francisco or something.” I shrugged. “Do you make all his clothes?”

  “I do.” She tutted. “I was in the back for nearly two weeks, making clothes for any shape or size he wanted to be in. Eventually, I just learned how to make stretchy clothes…”

  Made sense.

  She took notes on a pad of paper with her upper hands. “He likes that I do everything by hand. Makes it unique, he said. Anyone with enough money can get a high end shirt, but I suppose to him, it’s about rarity, not ‘quality,’” she said, making tiny air quotes with her middle hands. “Well, I’m done. You should go next door and get your hair done. I should have some outfits done for you by the time you get back.”

  But did I really trust demons with my hair?

  * * *

  I pulled on my clothes and went next door. A few other women were there, getting shampooed or sitting under dryers… Way too normal. Maybe they were human?

  But thank god one of the women was Black. She couldn’t have been much older than me, maybe in her early thirties or so, with dark skin and short, cloudy white hair.

  I hovered in the doorway. “Um… Hi. My name is Eliana Dela—”

  The Black woman teleported over to me. I jumped, my heart skipping a beat. What the hell? Well, there went the human theory out the window.

  “Hi! The name’s Christine, but you can call me Chrissy. You’re Mr. Aldana’s new partner, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “He called us this morning. Ah! You’re so cute!” She bounced up and down, her body shimmering.

  “Y-you’re kind of… fading?” I squeaked out.

  “Chrissy…” an older white woman said. “You’re losing your form again.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and solidif
ied.

  I choked on my own spit and started coughing. What did I walk into? “Are you a ghost?”

  “Air elemental. Anyway. Your locs. How long have you had them? Look at all that hair! I’m a bit jealous.”

  “I started them in freshman year, so… Eight years.”

  “Did you shave your head before? Free form? Go to a salon?”

  Ugh. Did I really have to spill my hair’s life story? Sure, I only started locing my hair after an accident at the salon left me half bald, but still… Anthony used to find it cute, but recently, he’d been on my ass about straightening my hair again. As if it were that easy.

  I sighed. I couldn’t think about him now. He was gone. Rotting away in Vincent’s gut.

  “A salon at first, but I took care of them myself after that.”

  “I see, I see.” She bounced again, but kept her form. “I think I know what to do.”

  “Are you going to use… magic?”

  “Duh.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the back. “You’re his partner after all. You’re going to need to protect your hair from when he fucks you silly.”

  My face burned. “Uh…”

  Of course he’d air my dirty laundry everywhere.

  “Though…” She tapped her cheek. “I’m surprised he got a new one so quickly…”

  “What happened to his old one?” I asked.

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “It’s not my place to tell.”

  Yeah, whoever they were, they were dead. Super dead. Vincent wouldn’t have told everyone to be all hush-hush about it if they weren’t.

  But she gave me a small grin and motioned for me to sit at one of the sinks. “This won’t take long, I promise.”

  “All right.”

  She washed my hair, put me under one of the dryers, then tightened my locs a bit. All in all, it wasn’t much different than when I did them myself. Though, the shampoo and conditioner made my scalp tingle. Magic.

  “Okay,” she said. “Just sit tight for a few, okay?”

  I scrolled through my Facebook feed and checked my texts. Santi had blown up my phone with messages and voicemails asking about Tony and if I was okay. Classic Santi. I texted him back saying I was fine and that I’d meet with him on Monday, like we usually did. I needed a bit of normalcy in my life now. A bit of him. I smiled to myself, and a fleeting image of the two of us embracing flew by my eyes. I shook my head. Santi probably didn’t think of me the same way.