Son of a Succubus Series Collection

by Dorie, Sarina

  “I’m almost fifty.” Her lip trembled. “Do you understand why I can’t be with you now?”

  At last he understood her anxiety. This wasn’t about him being repulsive. It had nothing to do with her feelings toward him. It was about how she felt about herself.

  “I have wrinkles, and I’m . . . saggy.” She sounded like she almost choked on that word.

  “No, you aren’t.” He hugged her to his side.

  She shrank back like a skittish kitten. “I’m old, and you’re not. Can’t you see why this would be so wrong?”

  He’d thought Baba’s curse had been complete when she’d turned him into a cat. Now he could see the full extent of the hex. She’d probably seen that he would eventually be able to free himself. She excelled in divination.

  Baba had ensured one additional detail to sabotage his happiness and Abigail’s with this final twist of the knife. She’d kept him young while Abigail aged so that they would never truly be together.

  Lucifer wasn’t going to allow her to succeed at keeping them apart.

  “You are just as beautiful as you were thirty years ago.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “And I’m certain you’ll be just as lovely in another twenty years, even if you have gray hair and have to use a cane—mostly to beat me with like Baba used to.”

  She rolled her eyes and snorted. She ducked her chin out of his reach. He felt awkward standing there so close but not touching her.

  “You’re very sweet, but that still doesn’t make it right.” She took one of his hands and gave it a squeeze. “You were the one who called your brother lecherous for pursuing a relationship with Clarissa, and by all appearances, those two don’t have even close to the age gap we have.”

  His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “What can I say? I’m a hypocrite.” Now his words came back to bite him.

  He could tell she meant to let go of his hand, but he didn’t release hers. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Are you afraid what people might think if you have a young man living in your house with you?” His lips twitched into a smile. “What is that term young people use for Morties who do that? ‘Cougars?’ Is that what you’re afraid that old biddy next door will say about you because she’s jealous?”

  He could tell her resolve was softening from the reluctant smile on her lips.

  He grinned, feeling success drawing near. “I don’t care what other people think. The only person I care about is you.” He circled an arm around her waist and tugged her into his embrace.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. To feel her warmth and affection after the trials he’d been through that day made it all worthwhile.

  “You’re just so young. And cute like you used to be. You’re just so, um, handsome and. . . .” She studied him in the mirror. Her cheeks flushed red between her freckles as she struggled for words. “hot.”

  His eyebrows rose. He’d never heard her utter that word toward a man in her life. She grimaced, and he burst out laughing.

  He’d been afraid she found him disgusting and repulsive, and the true reason she’d been standoffish was because he was so attractive? He laughed harder, tickled at the idea. “You think I’m hot. Sexy. Kissable, perhaps?”

  She poked him in the ribs. “Stop laughing at me.”

  He squeezed her tighter. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just relieved.” He kissed the top of her head.

  She smelled like lasagna and gingersnaps.

  He drew back enough that he could gaze into her eyes. “Abigail MacQuillan, I’ve been waiting over thirty years to show you how much I love you.”

  He would have been happy with cuddling. Just basking in her presence and knowing she loved him was enough to satiate his desire to be near her. But he realized now, she was the one who needed more than that. She feared she was too old to be desired.

  He had to show her otherwise.

  “Just give me one night to show you how much I still want you. Let me prove to you how worthy I am of your love.” He stooped to plant a peck on her lips. “Tomorrow if you decide I don’t deserve you and your life would be better off without me, you can break the news to me then. And if that’s the case, then I will return to Baba’s cottage and slave away as her apprentice for the rest of my days.”

  Her brows lifted, pity in her eyes. “You know that’s not what this is about. I do love you.”

  A pang of guilt touched his conscience that he was manipulating her this way, but he was still too much of a cat not to use cunning to his advantage. He did his best to make his eyes look wide and sad like he did when he wanted her to know he was sorry for raking his claws against that door-to-door salesman’s legs when he’d leered at her. He wasn’t sure this expression translated as a human. He didn’t dare sneak a peek in the mirror to examine himself.

  “I do want you,” she said, lacing her fingers through his beard. “I just don’t want to be the older woman seducing a young man. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “Perfect. Then we’re in agreement.” He leaned forward and kissed her again. “I should seduce you.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Cat’s Meow

  For years Lucifer had imagined what their first time would be like together. Those had been the days when he’d still felt hope that he might return to being a human. Now his wish had finally been granted.

  The rest of the evening hadn’t gone as planned. He wanted to ensure this was everything Abigail had ever dreamed of. They both deserved to live happily ever after.

  It took all his will not to tear off their clothes and growl like a wild animal, but he wanted to show her he wasn’t feral anymore. He could be civilized and human. He kissed her tenderly, restraining himself from behaving as he had the times they’d been cats. There was no rush, he told himself. His curse was broken. He had all night—or what was left of it. It was hours before morning.

  This was his chance to make it up to her for not being human before.

  She smoothed her fingers over his chest, experimentally, uncertainty in her eyes. It still boggled his mind that her greatest concern was that he was young and attractive. She was too distracted by her own thoughts to be there in the moment with him. He kissed his way down her neck, trying to bring her into her body, to help her forget her worries. Tonight needed to be perfect, though he wasn’t fully certain whether he needed it to be perfect for her or himself.

  He planned each moment as though it were a battle strategy, the same way he would if he were hunting. Not that he wanted to think of her as if she were prey. He didn’t want to conquer her. He needed to show her how perfect they were for each other. As human equals.

  He was careful not to allow his incubus magic to leak out of him, but he didn’t know how well he succeeded. He was out of practice using magic.

  She let out a breathy sigh as he kneaded his fingers into the tense muscles of her back and nibbled at her neck. She pressed closer. He could feel the tight knot between her shoulder blades loosen under his hand. He sank his face lower and kissed her breasts.

  “You are so perfect.” He kissed his way between her breasts and down her belly. “I could die happy at this moment.”

  She threaded her fingers through his hair. “I’d rather you wait a couple of minutes longer if you plan on dying.”

  He grinned. “If you insist, I’ll wait.” He returned to stroking her.

  She arched against him and moaned.

  He made sure they both had their happy endings that night.

  * * *

  Abigail lay content and asleep in his arms. Lucifer was too restless to sleep. He fought the urge to kick his legs and rake his fingers against the sheets. He contained himself because he didn’t want to disturb Abigail.

  Lucifer couldn’t tell if he’d won her heart back and convinced her he could make her happy. All he knew was that he could make her physically satisfied. Tomorrow he would ask her if
his love was enough. He’d always wanted her to marry him.

  Perhaps she would say yes.

  Now that Lucifer had broken his curse for good, and they were both human, there was no reason they couldn’t. He would convince her to forget about propriety. Just because he looked eighteen, didn’t mean he was. Surely his mind was closer to her age. If there was a spell to make him look like a cat, there had to be one to make him look older.

  Abigail shifted in her sleep and rolled over onto her side. He tucked the blankets around her and snuggled up behind her. He inhaled the scent of her hair. She smelled like the shampoo she’d used to wash his hair and the foods she had made. He savored the spicy richness of her skin, a mixture of earth and herbs. His olfactory senses had been muted earlier when he’d first turned into a man, but they seemed to be returning.

  A deep purr sounded in his throat. It was funny that his body chose this moment to express his contentment. He would have thought he’d do so earlier after making love.

  Everything seemed so perfect that he wanted this moment to last forever. Unfortunately, nothing ever lasted forever.

  The gray gloom of morning glowed beyond the curtained window, banishing night as day dawned. His contentment lasted a few seconds longer before the first twinges of pain rushed through his limbs, signaling he was going to change.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Cinderfella Turns into a Pumpkin

  Lucifer curled away from Abigail as a shiver coursed through him. A lance of fire tore through his insides. He stumbled out of the bed and made it to the bathroom. At least he could save Abigail cleaning up another mess.

  When he used to use Celestor starlight to fuel the spell for changing into a cat, his ability to control the transformation had been easiest at night when celestial bodies were present. In the beginning, changing had hurt. He’d vomited any food he’d eaten during the day. It had felt as though his bones were breaking. But with practice, he’d learned to control the pain of the change. With time, transforming felt enjoyable, a tingling rush that swept over him. Changing was more akin to stretching.

  Whether it was because of his lack of practice or because he resisted this transformation, this was anything but pleasant. Chills skated up and down his spine. He tried to cling to this human body.

  After getting sick in the bathroom, he showered in scalding water but still couldn’t make himself warm. He wrapped himself in towels and returned to bed with Abigail, knowing the change was inevitable. It was difficult to think, let alone move. He wanted to save her from the knowledge of what was happening, but she would find out eventually. He owed an explanation to her, a goodbye so that she wouldn’t think he had done this on purpose.

  He knew too well how much it hurt to be abandoned. He couldn’t stand the idea she would ever think that of him.

  He touched her shoulder. “Abby, I need you to wake up.”

  She placed her hand on his. “I bet you do.”

  She shimmied her backside against his belly. He groaned in pain and drew away.

  “Abby, something is wrong. We need to talk.”

  She rolled over and placed a hand on his arm. “Lucy?” Her voice was awake and alert, the transition from sleepy to panic mode occurring in a few heartbeats. “What’s wrong? Is it the wards? Did we break the wards?”

  He curled up on his side, struggling to breathe. “No, I should have checked, but probably not. Felix and Clarissa broke them earlier. I don’t know if they fixed them. You should write to Vega. Or better yet—” He gasped in a breath as fire lanced through his limbs. “You have a phone number for that friend of Clarissa’s at the school. Call her and tell her you need Vega to come fix them.”

  He would have suggested she call and insist Vega come right now to help him, but if there was one thing he’d learned about Vega, it was that she took her sweet time coming when called. She was more like a cat than a dog. She wouldn’t arrive quickly enough to be of any use to him. All he could do now was ensure he didn’t cause any collateral damage in his descent back to his cat body.

  Abigail placed her hand on his forehead. “You’re feverish. What’s wrong?”

  His skin felt clammy as waves of hot and cold flashed over him. “I’m going to turn back into a cat soon.”

  “Oh no!” She stroked his face. “But you just turned into a human. I thought you’d broken your curse.”

  He had too. “I’m sorry. I can’t fight it much longer.”

  “What can I do? How can I help?” She covered his face in kisses. “You need sex magic, don’t you?”

  She didn’t have the kind of magic he needed to break his curse. He wished he’d fully explained how it had happened earlier, but he hadn’t thought he would need to.

  “I need Red affinity magic. Touch magic.” That was what it had taken earlier. He’d stored his magic for months. The excess sexual energy Clarissa and Felix had released into the house had been the icing on the cupcake. All that electricity had broken his curse.

  Temporarily.

  He hadn’t thought about storing magic when he’d made love to Abigail earlier. He was out of practice in pretty much everything related to magic. He should have realized he would need to be aware of what he did with his excess energy. The only thing keeping Baba’s curse at bay was an abundance of his affinity. Now he’d wasted it, letting it slip away without even thinking about it. He could have used his time with Abigail to build his power instead of blissfully ignoring it.

  Now it was too late.

  Abigail kissed him and stroked him, trying to help him in the only way she knew how, but it was never going to work. She had no magic, and Amni Plandai energies weren’t what he needed anyway. Abigail clung to him. He tasted her tears against his lips.

  The pain was so great he could scarcely breathe. His fingers curled into claws. She flinched as he accidentally scratched her. He didn’t want to hurt her. He twisted away and fell onto the floor, tangled in the blankets.

  She rushed from the bed and turned on the nightstand lamp. Her voice sounded as though it came from far away.

  His flesh burned where hair prickled against the surface and sprouted. His limbs cracked and compressed, the feeling suffocating as his body was stuffed into too small a space. He screamed, but the sound became the yowl of a feral cat.

  When it was all over, he lay panting in the blankets. Abigail dug him out. His limbs shook with effort as he made his way over to her and collapsed onto her lap.

  “It’s not fair. Just when I had you back.” She hugged him to herself and cried.

  That taste of freedom had been worse temptation than the cinnamon rolls. Now that the memory of being a man was fresh in his mind, he didn’t want to give it up.

  He wanted to remain in Abigail’s arms and allow her to comfort him. He wanted to be there for her and bring her solace. But he wasn’t going to become human again by doing nothing. He forced himself to his feet and squirmed out of her arms. He darted under her bed and nudged the alphabet board out.

  She opened it, knowing what he wanted.

  He patted each letter. His mind was alert and sharp, despite his fatigue. “Fetch Vega. I’ll do anything to be human again. For you.”

  Now that Lucifer knew what he needed to return to being human, he would use it to his advantage, even if it meant mating with Vega while she was in her cat form or using Clarissa and his brother to fuel his affinity.

  He was determined to be human once again. For Abigail.

  THE END

  Curse of the Witching Hour

  Book 2

  CHAPTER ONE

  A Piece of Cake

  The thirty-year punishment Lucifer Thatch had served as a cat amounted to a double life sentence in his current feline body. It was more than a life sentence for a cat. Nor did he think what he’d done in the first place was worthy of such punishment.

  After his fleeting taste of freedom months before, he was done being patient. He was done being a goo
d kitty. It was time for a prison break, and he would soon be getting out of this body he was stuck in.

  He had a plan.

  He’d been saving up his touch magic for months. Every time Abigail brushed his fur, he chomped down on a particularly tasty mouse, or he mated with other cats, he stored the energy of pleasure and touch so that he could use it in the future.

  Lucifer sat beside Abigail Lawrence MacQuillan, his witch, as she unfolded the cardboard alphabet board she’d made from boxes so he could communicate with her. She balanced her pen and notebook on her knee. Lucifer attempted a calm confidence befitting a cat, but his tail swishing back and forth belied his excitement.

  “Now, remember, this plan is only going to work if you don’t do anything rash and run away.” Abigail stroked his back.

  He held himself straighter, staring into her emerald eyes. She wore her auburn hair on top of her head in a messy bun that showed off the freckles on her neck. She might have aged thirty years while they’d been in the Morty Realm, but she was just as lovely as the first day he’d met her when they’d been teenagers.

  His tail brushed against her arm, wanting to curl around her and hold on to her. It was so difficult being with her but not able to be with her. Soon that was going to change.

  Lucifer darted forward and tapped his paw against the alphabet board.

  Abigail copied each letter down, marking pauses between words before she read the sentences he wrote. It was slow work, and Lucifer forgot what he was saying midway through when he became distracted by a dust mote. The longer he remained a cat, the harder it was for him to think like a human.

  Abigail stroked his head. “Come on. Finish your sentence.”

  Her words reminded him of the importance of this task. He’d been mulling over what he needed to say for days this time. He wasn’t going to become distracted by the light of a car flashing across the floor from the street outside.