Son of a Succubus Series Collection

by Dorie, Sarina

  She knew the answer to everything.

  He closed his eyes and shifted deeper into the lush greenery intertwined with her soul. He couldn’t separate her magic from her soul or her magic from her body. The three were so fully woven together, they reminded him of the blanket. He wanted to sink into the embrace of strawberry blossoms and innocence. Her heart felt so light and free.

  She burst into giggles. “What are you doing?”

  “Oh. Um. . . .” He opened his eyes. “I’m just feeling your soul. It’s a kind of magic my affinity can use.” He wasn’t sure if anyone else could use it.

  “It tickles.” She tickled him in the ribs.

  He squirmed back and laughed. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

  She stared down at the blanket as her fingers continued to work. “You don’t have to stop. I like it.”

  “What does it feel like when I use my awareness to touch your soul?”

  “It’s like butterflies dancing across my skin.” She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself as she lifted her face to the sun. “It reminds me of the times Yoshi shows me how to use plant magic.”

  “Who’s Yoshi?” A little spike of alarm shot through him. Some boy was showing her plant magic and making her feel like butterflies danced across her skin?

  “He’s just one of my best friends. He’s a gardener, but he’s also one of my teachers. He’s a kimura and can turn into a tree.” She inhaled deeply. “When you touch my soul, it’s like when Clarissa braids my hair or when I hold a baby. Everything in the world just feels right. I feel closer to you.”

  He suspected his affinity was close to turning her into a tree. That might be fine if she channeled the energy into the life of the plants in the weaving instead of letting them grow out of her. But he didn’t know if she had enough control over her magic yet.

  “It’s like that time I called all the butterflies to me.” She opened her eyes. Her irises were brighter, greener.

  “You remember the butterflies?” He could have sunk into the depths of that plant life within her and lost himself there. “You were so young. You couldn’t even talk.”

  “I remember it. And I could talk a little.” She wove her fingers through his beard, rubbing his face as though he were a cat. “It feels like this. Close your eyes.”

  He did so, enjoying the way she caressed his face and petted his hair. When she touched him like that, he wanted to be a cat.

  No, he wanted to be a man. His heart quickened. He wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  She leaned toward him again and kissed him on the mouth. She was too young to be kissing. Her soul was too young.

  She tasted of springtime and new beginnings. It was tempting to keep kissing her, but Lucifer didn’t want to take advantage of a child wearing a teenage girl’s body.

  This was exactly the reason why he needed to restore her soul. They wouldn’t be able to be together like they wanted until she was truly an adult.

  He took her by the shoulders, intending to shift her back beside him, but he found his arms closing around her, melting into her warmth. He rested his head on her shoulder, his lips a safe distance from hers.

  She drew back after a moment, her smile mischievous. “Don’t tell Clarissa I kissed you. She’d be mad.”

  He didn’t want to let her go, but he did. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.” He suspected he’d be more in trouble with Clarissa than she would be, though he didn’t like the idea of her being in trouble at all. “Clarissa is right. You shouldn’t kiss people on the mouth.”

  She covered her smile with her fingers. “She only says that because I thought Felix was you once, and I kissed him. I don’t know who was more embarrassed, me or him.”

  He could imagine his prim and proper brother flustered by Abigail’s mistake. Lucifer laughed as he imagined the sight of it. “Please promise me you won’t kiss Felix again.”

  “I can’t promise. He looks like you. I thought you’d shaved your beard.” She ran her fingers through his beard and tugged, trying to bring his face closer to hers.

  He was almost too distracted by her urging to kiss her again to notice the prickle of Fae power in the air. The dark-bright magic of plants radiated from the trees, creeping closer. Decaying leaves and the scent of autumn wafted toward them. He pulled away from Abigail, scanning the trees for movement, though there was none.

  He scrambled to his feet, lifting Abigail to stand beside him.

  “What’s wrong?” Her eyes were as round as a startled deer’s.

  “Someone is watching us.” He placed himself between her and the source of magic he’d tasted in the air.

  “MacCoinneach, show yourself,” Lucifer said.

  The spindly figure slunk out from behind a tree. “Is this Abby? My mother?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Devil You Know

  “Who’s this?” Abigail asked.

  Lucifer kept his voice low, a warning in his tone to communicate danger, even though he didn’t speak the words out loud. “This is MacCoinneach. He’s a Fae who lives in the forest.”

  The leshi stalked closer. Lucifer put up a hand, and the creature stopped.

  “You’ve brought her here to meet me so that I’ll give you my tears for your spell?” MacCoinneach asked.

  Abigail tugged on his sleeve. “What spell?”

  “The blanket.” He could understand why MacCoinneach would think bringing her to the forest would be part of that bargain. He didn’t want to refuse the leshi if this was the only chance to collect those tears. On the other hand, he didn’t want MacCoinneach near her. Lucifer wasn’t convinced MacCoinneach was evil and behind the deaths of Kelsie’s brothers, but he hadn’t ascertained that he was safe yet.

  MacCoinneach stepped forward again.

  “No. Stay where you are.” Lucifer shifted to the side, guiding Abigail toward the path. “How coincidental you just happened upon us when Abigail came to visit. You haven’t been spying on me again, is it?”

  “Clarissa says it isn’t polite to spy on people,” Abigail said.

  “I know. I just wanted to see you. It’s very lonely in the forest by myself.” MacCoinneach’s shoulders hunched like a guilty child. “I’m sorry if I’ve behaved badly. You will let me talk with Abby, though, will you not? I’ll grant you the boon you requested if you do.”

  Lucifer needed to talk to MacCoinneach alone, without Abigail, so they wouldn’t scare her. Or he might have to send the Fae away so he wouldn’t hurt her. But if he did, Lucifer wouldn’t get those tears for her blanket.

  Lucifer didn’t take his eyes off the leshi. “Abby, go back to the cottage and fetch something for me. I have a bottle in my drawer in the dresser. It’s very small. You know which drawer is mine?”

  Her fingers dug into his arm. “Yes. I remember.”

  “Get the bottle for me. If anyone asks you why, just say it’s for the blanket. Don’t tell anyone—especially Kelsie—about MacCoinneach.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because I said so.”

  “But why?” Her tone was curious rather than snotty.

  It didn’t vex Lucifer any less.

  MacCoinneach crouched down in the brush, almost blending in. “Because Kelsie doesn’t like leshi. She wants to kill me.”

  “Kelsie is nice,” Abigail said. “She wouldn’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “A leshi killed her little brother and sister. She has a . . . prejudice against them.” Lucifer wasn’t entirely sure her prejudice was unwarranted, but he wasn’t going to tempt her. “Will you go to the cottage for me? And not say a word to Kelsie?”

  “Okay.” She scrambled onto the path and ran off.

  Lucifer listened to her feet thud against the path, but he didn’t take his eyes off MacCoinneach. With any luck, Clarissa would derail Abigail and tell her it was time to leave.

  “You still don’t trust me?” the leshi asked.

  “I d
on’t know you. It isn’t safe to trust strangers.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” MacCoinneach wrapped his arms around his knees. “She’s very pretty. I can see why my father loved her. It’s why you love her?”

  “I love Abby for more than her appearance. I like who she is inside.”

  MacCoinneach tilted his head to the side. “I beg your pardon, but that doesn’t make any sense. You told me she isn’t the same person inside who she was before. You want to make her into the person you once loved. That means you can’t actually love what’s inside her. It means you love her body.”

  “No.” That sounded like the kind of shallow and physical lust an incubus would be ruled by. Lucifer was above that. He just didn’t know how to explain it. “I love both her spirit and her body, but I would be perfectly fine if her soul were in a different body.”

  MacCoinneach grunted. “I realize I’m young and inexperienced in the ways of love—and just about everything else—but I think you’re deceiving yourself.”

  “I’m not deceiving myself. Love just doesn’t always make sense. It isn’t rational.” He thought about Kelsie lusting for him even then, though she didn’t even like men. Maybe that was different, but he wasn’t sure. Love and lust could be as tangled as the weaving of a blanket.

  Lucifer shook his head, wanting to clear it of the doubt this leshi was planting there.

  MacCoinneach stood. The golden embers of his eyes stared off down the path. “She’s coming back.”

  “Alone?” As long as Kelsie wasn’t with her, Lucifer might have a chance at collecting leshi tears.

  MacCoinneach craned his neck. “Just so.”

  “If I let you stay, you must promise me not to hurt her,” Lucifer said quickly.

  “You mean physically? I told you I don’t eat people. Or do you mean hurt her feelings?”

  “Both.” Lucifer heard her footsteps thudding along the path. If she was coming, he wanted MacCoinneach’s word he would do her no harm.

  “I can only promise you I won’t eat her. I don’t understand humans enough to know what would hurt someone’s heart other than my own.”

  Lucifer’s voice came out the sharp growl of an animal. “Then promise to be kind.”

  MacCoinneach flinched back. “I promise.”

  Lucifer lowered his voice as she approached. “And remember, she’s young. Much younger than you or I. She’s like a child. It’s just going to confuse her if you ask her questions about her being your mother. She won’t understand. She doesn’t remember your father.”

  MacCoinneach tilted his head to the side. “She’s like a child, but you kissed her like a woman.”

  Guilt crept into Lucifer’s heart. He crossed his arms. “You’re being impertinent. Just be nice.”

  “I will be nice. Do you think she’ll like me?” MacCoinneach wrung his hands, eagerness in his gestures.

  “Probably. She likes most people.” Except for Baba.

  Abigail’s footfalls slowed. She slipped her hand into Lucifer’s and gave it a quick squeeze. She held up the little bottle proudly. “I did as you asked. I fetched your bottle. Kelsie asked me what I was getting, but I said it was none of her beeswax. No one said anything to me after that. They were all having their boring adult conversations, talking about Kelsie’s family and that Vega wants Baba to live in the castle to become a healer—but Clarissa doesn’t want her to because she thinks Baba will catch children and eat them.” She crinkled her nose up at that.

  Lucifer didn’t think those things sounded boring at all. If they lived closer to the castle, he could see Abigail more often. But he also could understand Clarissa’s reservations.

  Abigail looked to MacCoinneach. “Hi, I’m Abby.”

  “I know. I’ve seen you in the forest before.”

  “When I lived here?” she asked.

  “Just so. My name is MacCoinneach.”

  “Did you watch me when I went swimming with Lucy?” She lifted her chin. “When I was naked?”

  MacCoinneach tilted his head to the side. “Was he naked too? When you went swimming? Is that considered proper for humans?”

  “I was a baby back then, so it probably doesn’t matter. But I’m not a baby anymore, just in case you can’t tell.” She leaned down and picked up the blanket. “Lucy! You’re ruining my blanket.” She shoved Lucifer’s leg.

  He stepped aside, realizing he had trampled part of it. “Sorry.”

  She plopped down and arranged it over her lap, stroking the vines back into place. The glint of glass caught sunlight where Abigail set it on the blanket.

  MacCoinneach seated himself on the ground across from her. “Do you know any stories?”

  Abigail leaned against the oak tree. “Sure. I know lots.”

  Lucifer didn’t like the idea of sitting rather than standing when a leshi could move faster than he could. He leaned against the oak tree beside Abigail, still on guard.

  “Lucifer needs to collect my tears for your blanket, so it would be best if you told a sad story,” MacCoinneach said.

  Abigail plucked a crushed leaf off her blanket and tossed it aside. “Once upon a time there was a girl named Abby. She lived in a house with two wonderful parents and a witch. But one day the witch cut off her fingers, and she was sent far away. It was very sad. The end.” She smiled up at Lucifer.

  Was that how Abigail saw him? Like a father rather than her past and future beau? That didn’t even make sense. She had kissed him. But that might have been his incubus magic compelling her to do that.

  He felt more conflicted about kissing her than ever.

  “That was very . . . succinct,” MacCoinneach said. “Perhaps too brief to evoke tears.”

  Abigail straightened. “That’s the saddest, most horrible story I could think up. I challenge you to come up with a better story.”

  “I’ll try. Let me think for a moment.” MacCoinneach’s fingers scraped together, the sound like dry twigs scratching against bark. He nodded decisively. “Once upon a time there was a little girl with red hair and freckles. She had two brothers, one older and one younger. The little girl’s family lived on a farm in a sheltered community in the Unseen Realm.”

  “Oh! I know this!” Abigail gasped.

  A chill wormed its way down Lucifer’s spine. He knew this story too. It was Abigail’s story.

  “Is this Little House on the Prairie?” Abigail asked.

  “I don’t know what that is,” MacCoinneach said. “Life was pleasant and peaceful for the girl and her family. The maiden had a way with plants. Her brothers had a cunning with animals. The farm prospered until one day when it didn’t.”

  “Was the girl Fae or human?” Abigail asked.

  “Does it matter?” The leshi paused, tapping his chin with a spindly finger. “I suppose it does. You’ll want to be able to picture her in your mind. She was Witchkin.”

  This was too much like the time Abigail had told Coinneach the story of her past. Lucifer didn’t know what game this was, but it didn’t sit well with him.

  He stepped away from the tree. “Who told you this tale?”

  “No one. I just knew it the moment I opened my eyes for the first time, like I knew how to talk and eat when I was born. May I continue?” MacCoinneach cleared his throat. “First it was a drought that plagued the girl’s family. Another year it was pestilence. The little girl and her family didn’t have enough to eat.”

  Abigail’s arms clutched at her belly. Lucifer didn’t think this Abigail had ever suffered hunger in this new life, but he wondered whether she could remember hunger from those days.

  “A Fae noble, a minor duke of the Silver Court, came to the girl’s father and bargained with him. ‘I see your corn did poorly this year. I will make you an offer. I will give you a blessing of a bountiful harvest in exchange for half your crops next year.’

  “But the farmer couldn’t afford to give half his crops away even if he had a good year.
He was in debt for the years he had done poorly. Still, he saw no other choice. He agreed to this bargain. He said he would give the Fae everything that grew above the ground, and he would keep what grew below it.”

  Abigail listened intently. Her fingers plucked vines into place in the weaving. Lucifer glanced from her to MacCoinneach, uncertain how she would take the ending.

  He had said he would tell a sad story so that he might cry and give Lucifer the tears for the blanket, but Abigail was the one more likely to shed tears. Then again, it might not be such a bad thing for her to understand her past.

  MacCoinneach spoke slowly, his voice like a lullaby. “The farmer had planted corn for the last harvest, but for the following year, he sowed seeds for potatoes, carrots, and onions. He only planted vegetables that grew below the ground. He gave the tops of everything to the Fae when it was time to harvest. As you might imagine, the Fae was enraged.”

  Abigail’s eyes went wide. “I have a bad feeling about what the Fae will do to them.”

  MacCoinneach nodded. “The farmer said, ‘That wasn’t fair. I’ll make another bargain with you. If you give me a bountiful harvest again, I’ll give you half again, this time everything I harvest below the ground.’”

  Abigail drew her knees to her chest. “Oh no! I bet the farmer tricked the Fae again, and he planted corn that year and tried to give the Fae the roots. The Fae would be even more vexed.”

  “In the folktales, that’s what the farmer does. But not in this story.” MacCoinneach rubbed at a patch of moss growing on his chest. “The farmer and his family planted corn, but it didn’t grow right. When it was time to harvest, the farmer found potatoes, carrots, and onions growing from the roots of the corn. He was forced to keep his promise to the Fae and give him the half he owed him.