How to Kill an Incubus

by Kimber Lee

  He cocked his head, his eyes dancing with humor. “You don’t wanna know.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No. It’s the stuff of nightmares.”

  I didn’t even know if demons had names. Well, normal names. I knew about the biblical ones. Like Legion. My father had imparted that knowledge to me before he died. But never in a million years would I have thought I’d be standing in a bar asking a demon, who had once tried to force himself on me, what his name was.

  “Well,” I began, interested despite myself, “what is it?”

  “Templeton,” he intoned, putting me out of my misery.

  “What?!”

  He sighed heavily. “My mother’s a big fan of The A-Team. The original A-Team. So she…”

  “You have a mother?”

  He smirked at me. “Yes, Baby Phat. I have a mother. How do you think I got here?”

  “I…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. Demons had mothers. How had my father not told me this?

  “I’m a halfling. That means I have a human parent.”

  “I know what a halfling is,” I mumbled, although I hadn’t really thought about them. Looking at this… this demon, you’d never be able to tell that he could send you to eternal damnation with one crook of his manicured finger.

  “You can call me Temp. Everyone does.”

  “Your mother clearly hated you,” I whispered.

  “I hate to agree with you, Baby Phat.” His arm tightened around my waist and he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. “So what are you?”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “Get away from me. Now.”

  “You’re drunk,” he said softly. “Let me take you to your room.”

  I tried to push him away. “So you can… attack me?” The fear was there, the fear of dying at the hands of this creature. I thought of myself as spunky, brave even, but dealing with something like him was enough to make my backbone crumble into dust.

  He rolled his eyes at me—actually rolled his damn eyes at me as if it were irrational to be terrified of him. “Relax, Baby Phat. I’ve fed already, on a more-than-willing subject,” he said slowly, as if he were talking to a little child. “Even though you look,” he sighed, “impeccable, I won’t touch you.” He demonstrated this by taking an exaggerated step away from me. “Better?”

  “I don’t trust you,” I snapped at him, all the while wondering if that “subject” was still breathing, or if the poor woman was now a grinning corpse in a hotel room. “I don’t want anything to do with… with your kind. Being around you makes me sick.” But that could just be the vodka.

  Temp did another eye-roll. “A little melodramatic, don’t you think?” He reached out and gently pulled me out of the way as a couple strode past me, effectively closing the distance between us. “This place is crawling with my kind,” he cheerfully enlightened me. “They don’t call Vegas ‘Sin City’ for nothing, babe. So you might want to think about that before you strut around looking like this, especially when you’re drunk and the next guy you meet won’t be as nice as me.”

  I gulped. Crawling, he’d said. Crawling with them.

  Oh God, I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here!

  “I’ll take myself upstairs, thank you very much,” I whispered, and made a move to march past him.

  His hands shot out and he pushed me up against the wall, positioning his body before me, and gently but firmly pressing his lower body against mine. To anybody watching, it looked like a frisky interlude, but to me, it felt like I was dying a thousand deaths. Temp’s eyes weren’t creepy in any way. In fact, they looked a bit familiar, but they were narrowed as he stared down at me.

  “OK, Baby Phat,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve humored you enough. Spit it out. What are you?”

  Even if kneeing him in the groin was possible—which wasn’t, considering how restricted my movement currently was—I was just simply frozen to the spot in fear.

  Temp impatiently repeated himself.

  “I-I’m a p-p-private investigator,” I stammered, humiliated by how petrified I sounded. Enraged men caught with their pants down baying for my blood? No problem. Curious incubi who were touching me? Turned me into a pathetic, stuttering mess.

  “A private investigator,” he repeated, quirking a brow as if he didn’t believe me.

  I took a deep breath before saying, “I specialize in tailing unfaithful husbands. Huge market, if you must know. Men can’t seem to keep their dicks in their pants. I would’ve given you a business card but I don’t believe in self-advertising.”

  Temp gave me a strange look. “Look, Baby Phat, I’ve been turning on the charm full force since we started talking—and nothing,” he told me, now looking affronted. “You’re supposed to be putty in my hands right now. Putty! You’re supposed to want me. So I’ll ask again, What are you?”

  I felt anger swirl around inside me and I clung to it, releasing my hold on panic. “I’m a woman who’s becoming extremely pissed off, so I’m giving you one last chance to get the fuck away from me before I beat the horse crap out of you,” I said through clenched teeth. “I never asked to be able to know when your kind is around me. My father passed that gift on to me. No matter how hard I try to forget about it, I can’t ignore it. Happy?”

  Temp immediately let me go. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re immune to me.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Would you object if I kissed you?”

  I couldn’t mask my horror even if I wanted to. Revulsion and abject fear made me give out an odd squawk of shock.

  “I guess that’s a no,” a cheerful Temp said for me. His face became sober. “I only wanted to know what you tasted like, Baby Phat. That’s all. Every creature tastes differently. No need to look so dismayed.” He let out a short laugh, grabbing my hand. “Come on. I’m taking you upstairs. What floor are you?”

  “Three.”

  I allowed him to lead me out the doorway of the bar. I allowed him to lead me past the high-energy casino entrance. I even allowed him to steer me to the elevator. His hand felt surprisingly nice around mine. Comforting, even. I didn’t want to think too much about that. Temp was nice-looking, but he was a demon and he wasn’t my type.

  I tended to lean toward tall, dark, and devilishly handsome.

  This was my train of thought when the elevator pinged open—and Tall, Dark, and Devilishly Handsome stood inside the car, on his way out.

  He was still in the same clothes I saw him in that morning, except that he’d untied his hair from its ponytail and it flowed in a thick curtain around his face. God, I yearned to run my hands through that hair again. I had to physically restrain myself from leaping inside and doing it.

  Anghelescu—or whatever he was called—paused and threw me a look that could have frozen the entire percentage of water inside me. Temp either ignored it or wasn’t aware. He dragged me into the car with him and the elevator doors came to a close.

  “Evening,” said Temp, pressing the third floor button. His tone was strange. Moderately reverent.

  “Disappear,” growled Scary (Possibly) Russian Guy, and I stared at him in puzzled disbelief.

  “She needs to get to her room,” Temp told him, further confusing me.

  “Disappear,” SRG repeated, his voice an octave lower.

  Temp squeezed my hand before releasing me. “As you wish, Andrei.” And he instantly disappeared into thin air.

  All that air seemed to disappear with him.

  Andrei, he said. Andrei.

  It all came back to me in a rush of drunken adrenaline—Paris, Nicolette, Hotel Ange Noir…

  “Andrei would like you. You’re his type.”

  Temp’s words replayed in my head like a scratched CD. Just how many Andrei’s could Temp possibly know? And now he just left me in an elevator—a confined space—with Andrei, someone who was obviously one of his kind.

  And all the while I was processing this, Andrei Anghelescu was watching me, taking up more space than was humanly
possible—because he wasn’t human.

  I’ve fucked him, I thought, my face contorting with the horrible realization. I’ve fucked a demon.

  “No,” I croaked, my head pounding, praying that this was some sick, twisted joke. I pressed myself against one of the silver panels on one side, squeezing my eyes shut and opening them again. “No!”

  It didn’t make sense. Even in my vodka-addled state, I could tell that something wasn’t right. If he were a demon, why didn’t I sense him last night when he was inside me?! The fact that my brain was all fuzzy from martinis explained why I couldn’t feel his energy surrounding me now. But last night? Last night, I’d been as sober as a judge.

  Andrei extended a long arm and pressed the emergency stop button. “I take it you know what I am now?” he said quietly, narrowing his eyes at me as the car rocked to a stop. “The question is: What are you?”

  I inwardly grimaced. I was getting sick and damn tired of that exact same question.

  “I had sex with you!” I said breathily, still in a state of total shock.

  “I know,” he said impatiently. “I was there.”

  “I can’t… I think… Oh God, I’m going to be sick!”

  Andrei moved, now standing so close to me that I could see the minute hairs of a five o’clock shadow dotting his painfully masculine jaw. I pressed myself as far back as I could possibly go, breathing heavily but trying not to succumb to the mad hysteria inside me.

  “I fucked you,” he muttered, threading his hands in my hair. I was disgusted by the way I was still aching for his touch despite knowing what he was. “Fucked you hard. Consumed a shitload of your energy. By rights, you should be in bed recovering.” He paused, considering this. “No, you should be half-comatose—maybe even dead. Yet here you are, wearing close to nothing and looking… the way you look.”

  I swallowed, my breathing ragged. Hearing him talk about what he’d done to me in such a crass way was enough to make my panties wet. I certainly was my mother’s child, running around having sex with creatures of the underworld.

  Maybe Temp was wrong, I thought hopefully. Maybe I’m just as susceptible to incubi as the next person. Maybe this is just an involuntary reaction.

  But even as I thought those words, I knew they weren’t true. I had hunter’s blood in my veins and we were immune. No, this was attraction on a primal level.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Andrei pressed. “Are you an angel?”

  I couldn’t help it, I laughed. I laughed louder then than when I’d laughed at Temp. I laughed louder than I’d ever laughed in my entire twenty-seven years. This was beyond ridiculous. An angel. He thought I was an angel. An angel, for Pete’s sake!

  He scowled at me, clearly not used to being ridiculed, and grabbed my chin, tipping it toward him. “Don’t fuck around with me because you have no idea who I am. Now talk.”

  I had no clue what came over me, except that in the last twenty-four hours, I’d seen enough demons to last a lifetime, been manhandled by two of them, had the best sex of my life with one, and was currently fighting to control the scream dying to get out of me. So I slapped his hand away and glowered at him.

  “Don’t try to intimidate me, buddy! I’m so not in the mood,” I fumed, ignoring the intimidating look on his face. “I’m human and I enjoy a very mundane, very human existence, so if you don’t mind,” I spat as I pressed the emergency stop button and the elevator started up again, “I’d like to get some sleep and get the hell out of this hellhole, literally, first thing tomorrow morning so I can continue with it. You with me?!”

  He stared at me. I stared back.

  The elevator doors opened and a laughing couple patiently waited for us to exit. I slid past Andrei and tottered out, praying that he wouldn’t follow.

  But he did.

  “What do you want from me?” I snarled, whirling around once we were at the door to my suite. Anger seemed the best thing to hold on to rather than absolute terror—and lust. Yup, despite my knowledge of what he was, I was still attracted to him—it.

  Those eyes of his were several shades darker and I instantly knew what that meant. Before I could say something scathing, he seized me, angling his head, and smashed his lips against mine. The fact that I knew what he was didn’t stop my body from reacting to the feel of his soft lips against mine. I melted against him, my hands grabbing the folds of his shirt, and I moaned when his tongue slipped into my mouth.

  Heat immediately pooled in my belly and, without using my card, Andrei pushed the door open and picked me up, kicking it shut behind us and switching on the overhead lights.

  My legs were wrapped around his waist as he led me to the newly made bed and set me down, leaning above me. Dammit, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly I wouldn’t have cared if he suddenly revealed that he was really a goblin-turtle hybrid—or something.

  My dress came off and my underwear followed, leaving me naked for his consumption. I wanted his mouth to soothe the heat overwhelming my entire body. I wanted his mouth everywhere.

  He pulled back, his eyes gazing over my body with naked desire. I squirmed and he stilled me with strong hands.

  “Stop,” he growled. “You are completely and totally fuckable. Don’t hide from me.” He lowered his mouth to one breast. “I’m having you checked out, Rainelle Erickson,” he murmured into my skin, pulling a nipple into his mouth and suckling it. “You know why?”

  I whimpered with pleasure, unable to grab his hair like I wanted to because his hands were holding me down.

  He raised his head. “Because I don’t like complications,” he said softly.

  “I’m… not,” I gasped.

  One of his hands had released me to stimulate me.

  “You are,” he said huskily, teasing my swollen clit between his fingers, “because you are different.”

  I bucked under him as he slipped a finger into me at the same time.

  “So wet for me,” he murmured, that accent of his coming to the fore again. “Such a good girl.”

  He withdrew his fingers, and rolled off the bed and onto his feet. My eyes were closed and the only thing I heard was the sound of the drawers being opened. I’d thrown every condom in there that morning, disgusted with myself.

  “Get up,” Andrei barked, and my eyes flew open.

  I was panting for air as I crawled off the bed. He’d shed every bit of clothing and stood before me, his encased erection massive and beautiful. He grabbed me to him and his mouth sent electric charges throughout my body once more before he pulled away and spun me around so that my back was to him.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard and you’re going to beg me for more,” he snarled into my ear, kneading my swollen breasts with his hands. “You are not going to be sick. You are not going to want to get out of here. You are going to come until my cock is tattooed inside this sexy ass of yours.” He squeezed my ass and I sucked in air. “You with me?”

  I nodded, already close to orgasm at his delicious words.

  “Words. Say it.”

  “Yes,” I panted.

  “Bend over,” he commanded.

  I did as he asked, bending at the waist and placing my hands on the soft, downy carpet. Andrei’s fingers instantly sought my wetness, sinking into me and sending ripples of pleasure through me and brought my mind havoc. His knuckles nudged my clit, and I cried out, the sweet sensation almost painful.

  Languid minutes passed as he held onto my waist and pleasured me at the same time. His fingers spread me apart and I held my breath, heart thumping in anticipation.

  I felt him at my entrance. Felt him circle me, torturing me. Biting my lip, I prepared myself for what was to come—and come, it did. He thrust into me about halfway, stretching me to the limit. I cried out again, shutting my eyes. He pulled out, then plunged deep into me, to the hilt this time, incomparably filling me up. Delicious pain morphed into intense, unbearable pleasure as he increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper.

  He grunt
ed each time he drove himself into me, his hold on my waist tightening and my body was quaking with the force of each beautiful invasion.

  I screamed through my orgasm, riding that wave until it evaporated. It was a powerful orgasm that didn’t seem to have a beginning or ending. And I wasn’t going to be able to support myself any longer and Andrei seemed to sense that. So he came, his big body racked with spasms as he groaned into the air, jerking inside of me.

  Then he pulled himself out and I collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. He left me there, walking over to the bin and disposing of the used condom. I peered over the bed and watched him clean himself up.

  “No more,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse. I had no idea if he wanted more but if last night were any indication, I sure as hell knew that incubi had amazing stamina. I, unfortunately, did not.

  “No more?” he repeated, tearing open another foil packet. His hungry gaze sent shivers down my spine. “You don’t mean that, Rainelle. You’re just as hungry for me as I am for you.”

  I gulped, watching him roll the latex on.

  “How can you still be so hard?”

  “You,” he said simply, by way of explanation. “Get on the bed. I’ll fuck you slowly.”

  That sounded delicious. My pussy seconded that thought by clenching in anticipation.

  Jesus, Rae, my inner voice admonished. What the hell’s gotten into you? Have you forgotten that he—it—is a demon?

  No, I hadn’t forgotten. How could I? It was right in front of me: The fact that he was a demon—an evil creature, and being with him was unnatural. But what exactly could I do? Tell him I didn’t want him inside me when we both knew that was a bald-faced lie? I wanted him with an intensity I didn’t know existed and I couldn’t even blame it on his sex-demon magic because, apparently, I was immune to it. So I hopped onto the bed and lay flat on my back, my arousal coming back to me in a flood.

  Andrei slid beside me, his sheer presence making me wet. Feeling bolder, I reached out and ran my hand down the planes of his hard chest. He made a low noise in his throat as I circled his navel and moved down his happy trail, pausing at the start of the short, dark curls of hair.