by A. H. Lee
“On a date, apparently,” said Mal. “You realize she’s never going to let me live this down? She’s going to say she’s a better incubus than I am!”
“Well, she just seduced a demon hunter,” said Jessica, “so she might be right.”
Azrael gave an uneasy laugh. “I’d better go check on her.”
“She looked like she had the situation in hand,” said Jessica.
“I’ll just make sure,” said Azrael and slipped out the door.
“When she said she had terrible taste in men, she wasn’t joking!” exclaimed Mal.
Jessica hugged Mal. “I’m pretty sure this is Lucy’s way of saying, ‘Welcome to the family.’”
Mal drew a deep breath. “Maybe. Anyway, let’s go find those cigarettes.”
Chapter 68
Jessica
The dragon stared at the pilot as she laid the last piece of airplane on the sand in front of him. The pilot was hungry and incredibly thirsty. She’d drunk the last mouthful of water that morning and eaten the last bite of food a day before. The dragon hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the storm. The skin around his eyes looked sunken beneath his feathers. He hadn’t flapped his one wing that lay above the sand in quite a while.
The pilot expected him to flap it now—to throw grit in her eyes, to strike. In spite of all his friendly chatter, she expected to see his teeth now. But he didn’t move. She felt oddly heavy as she inched over the quicksand onto the last piece of siding, her knife gripped in her fist.
The dragon didn’t fling sand at her, but the pilot found that she had something in her eyes anyway. She sat down in front of Featherdoodle’s head. “Aren’t you going to fight?”
Featherdoodle smiled. “I was.” His voice had grown weaker over the last day. “I thought if I lured you over here, I might be able to use your bridge to get out of the quicksand. And of course, I’d have something to eat. But I think I’m too weak now.”
The pilot wiped at her face. “You’re not.”
Featherdoodle laid his downy head in her lap. “Maybe I’ve grown to like you. Maybe I miss my rider. Maybe I cannot help but bond to the only human available.”
She had not imagined that her body could find enough moisture for tears. She was wrong.
The dragon licked her face. “We are both dying of hunger and thirst, my friend. Only one of us is getting out of here. Go on. Cut my throat. Use my body to get yourself home. There are worse ways for a dragon to die.”
The pilot raised her knife. She lifted it high in the air and then flung it as far as it would go across the quicksand basin.
Featherdoodle’s eyes looked up into her face, shocked. “The walk to the next well is too far without food and water, it’s true,” she whispered. “My biplane will not fly…but you will.”
Featherdoodle shook his head. “I am completely stuck, and one of my wings is crippled.”
The pilot stood up. “I have one working engine and enough fuel for about five minutes. We are going to get you out of the sand.”
Featherdoodle didn’t believe her at first. He thought she’d lost her mind with sunstroke. But he let her tie ropes around him and attach them to the skeleton of the plane. When the engine roared to life, he was only a little surprised to be dragged halfway out of the sand. He managed the rest on his own—weak and clumsy, crawling over the bridge of siding. The pilot clambered onto his back, Featherdoodle struggled up on top of the wreckage of the plane, stretched as far as he could, and managed to scramble out of the quicksand basin.
They both lay on solid ground for a while, panting. Then the pilot inspected his wing. “I think it needs to be splinted. I think the muscle is damaged, but not the bone. I hate to ask you to fly on it…but that’s the only way we’re getting out of here alive.”
“I doubt I’ll ever fly straight again anyway,” whispered the dragon. He did not say, “Because you shot me.”
“You should try first without me,” said the pilot, “without the extra weight.” She did not say, “In case you decide to leave me behind.”
“No,” he said and lowered his wing for her to crawl onto his back.
The dragon summoned every remaining ounce of energy and hurled himself into the sky. He roared in pain as his stiff and injured wing beat. He wobbled for a moment, but then righted himself. He began to climb higher, found the thermals that would allow him to glide with less pain.
Off in the distance, the pilot spied green trees growing around a well and a smattering of buildings. These were the desert tribes, who wanted nothing to do with either dragon riders or Mecha pilots, but she thought they would trade food and water for the location of the wrecked airplane and its valuable scraps.
We are going to live, she thought. We will worry about the rest tomorrow.
Azrael closed the book and Jessica breathed a long sigh.
“But what happened to them?” asked Mal. He was a panther again. They were sitting on the enormous bed in the cottage. “Were they punished by their armies? Were they hunted? What did their friends think? Where did they live?”
“I guess we will have to read the next book,” said Azrael.
“Where does the author live? Can we go ask her?”
Azrael shook with silent laughter.
Mal looked at Jessica. “What’s funny?”
Jessica tried to maintain a serious expression. “I’m not sure the author would appreciate that. I don’t think it would make her write any faster.”
Mal sighed. “Well, I liked it anyway.” He thought for a moment. “Will you read me the one with the demon named Azrael? Do you even have a copy? Was it burned up in the fire?”
“I do have a copy,” said Azrael, “although not the one I taped together at school. I’ll read it to you. But it’s at home.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean right now.”
Azrael had insisted on stopping for firewood on the way back, and the bedroom was finally warm. The banked coals gave off an occasional pop. Their glow made the room delightfully cozy.
Mal looked like he was screwing up his courage to ask something. He laid his head flat in Azrael’s lap. “You made a fire in the sitting room, too.”
Azrael stroked his ears. “Yes.”
“Does that mean you’re sleeping in there?”
Azrael said nothing for a moment. Finally, he murmured, “Mal, it feels like you want so much from me.”
“I don’t. I mean, I do, but—”
“Do you remember the closet?”
Mal raised his head. “Which closet?”
Azrael took his chin in both hands and looked into his eyes. Finally he let go. He spoke very softly. “When we first came to the Shrouded Isle, you tested my boundaries constantly. You were starting to lose the parts of yourself that were connected to your entity, and this made you bitter and restless. You nearly killed a couple of courtiers. You tried to get one of them to take off your collar. You read grimoires that I didn’t want you to read. You tested my wards over and over. If I wasn’t absolutely specific with my commands, you violated them.”
Mal flattened his ears. “I said I was sorry,” he mumbled.
Azrael swallowed. “This isn’t a story about you misbehaving.”
Jessica scooted over to sit on the other side of Azrael. She put an arm around him. “I think this is a story about Ren.”
He nodded. “I needed a way to discipline you, Mal. At Polois, I’d seen demons disciplined in all kinds of unpleasant ways—maiming, excruciating physical tasks, things that violated their natures. I thought… Well, I thought I was being mild when I shut you in a closet and ordered you to stay there. You seemed to dislike it a great deal, so I thought that made it an appropriate punishment. Once, I shut you in there for a week.”
Mal had gone very still. Azrael’s hands were twisted together in his lap.
“How old were you?” asked Jessica.
Azrael shook his head. “Nineteen or twenty. Half the time, I treated Mal like a person with real thoughts
and feelings. The other half of the time, I treated him like a robot with a complex manual and an off button. I was still telling myself every day that I would soon send him back to the astral plane. A normal creature shut in a closet for days would have died of hunger and thirst, but Mal didn’t. Mal couldn’t. Finally, he started crying. Crying like his heart would break. When I opened the door, he’d turned into a child.”
Jessica was surprised.
“I’d never seen him do that before,” whispered Azrael, “and he never did it again. Maybe it was the only way for him to show me how badly I was hurting him.”
Mal finally leaned over and licked his face. “I don’t remember,” he whispered.
Azrael screwed his eyes shut. “Truly?”
Mal thought about it. “I remember being afraid of you. I remember thinking that you could do something horrible to me. But I don’t remember specifics.” Mal hesitated. “I loved you. Even when I was afraid of you.”
Azrael wiped his face on his sleeve. “That’s when I finally realized that I couldn’t have it both ways. Either you were a person, capable of learning cruelty as well as kindness, or you were an animal long overdue for release. That’s when I started reading to you. I punished you sometimes by not letting you talk or not letting you feed directly, but I never locked you in a closet again. Lust is a social creature. Cutting you off from companionship was probably the cruelest thing I could do.”
He took a deep breath. “I’m not sorry I kept you, Mal. But I am terribly sorry about the closet.”
Mal dissolved into a man. He was wearing clothes, and he didn’t try to touch Azrael immediately. He sat beside him on the bed, looking serious. “Last night…you thought I might want to punish you for that.”
Azrael nodded without looking at him.
“I don’t remember the closet,” said Mal, “but taking my magic without permission has always felt like a violation. If I was going to punish you for something, it would be that.”
Azrael nodded, said nothing.
“Lucy says I broke you,” continued Mal, “that I messed you up so much you can’t ever trust anyone in bed.”
Azrael gave a choking laugh. “Well…”
Mal turned to look at him. “Can we stop trying to figure out who hurt who more?”
Jessica felt tremendously proud of Mal in that moment.
Mal put two fingers under Azrael’s chin, tilted his head up, and kissed him. “I forgive you. Thank you for keeping me until I was real. Thank you for letting me go. Thank you for letting me come back.”
With her arm around Azrael’s waist, Jessica could feel him tremble, feel the tension draining out of him. “Can we all be naked right now?” she whispered.
“Yes!” said Mal.
Azrael offered no resistance when Mal started unbuttoning his shirt, but he did say, “Mal, I can’t take down my wards every time. I don’t think I can handle it. Last night was intense. I can’t do that every—”
“I like you like this, too.”
“You like feeding,” said Azrael skeptically.
You know him pretty well, thought Jessica.
“I do,” said Mal. “But I also like other things.”
Azrael laughed. “Such as?” Now he was teasing.
Everything is going to be fine, thought Jessica as she wriggled out of her own pajama top.
Mal pushed Azrael down onto the bed. “I like touching you. I like it when you want me—when I can tell that you want me.” He looked down into Azrael’s face. “I like it when you say my name like it’s the only word you can remember.”
Azrael let out a shaky breath. Mal kissed him. He settled his hand over Azrael’s crotch, and Azrael groaned. Mal drew back a little and grinned. “I’m not even using magic!”
Jessica scooted down beside Azrael, who put an arm around her and pulled her against his chest. “Jessica…I don’t…don’t mean to keep leaving you out.”
She laughed. “You’re not, silly. I like watching you, and I’m not shy.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d be a horse right now if not for you.”
Mal unfastened Azrael’s trousers and slid his hand inside. Azrael’s eyes fluttered shut.
Jessica shimmied out of her own pajama bottoms. “You make a lovely horse.” And I’d still like to ride you.
“Do I?” He sounded like he was having trouble focusing.
“Mmm-hmm. Let’s get you completely naked without losing any of your clothes.”
They did that. “Gods,” muttered Mal. “I did leave bruises.” Jessica could clearly see his hand-print around Azrael’s right hip.
“That’s easy to do,” said Azrael.
“Is it bad that I like leaving a mark on you?”
“No, but please don’t do it every time.”
“I love that you keep saying ‘every time.’ That means more than one time. Lots of times!”
Azrael snorted a laugh.
“Ren,” said Jessica, “can I do something you’ve probably never fantasized about?”
He looked up at her, his eyes huge and dark. “What?”
Jessica looked at Mal, who was holding Azrael’s cock, stroking the head with his thumb. “Mal, can I borrow that?”
“No, it’s mine.”
“Please?”
“Only because I love you.”
Jessica straddled Azrael’s lap and slid down onto his cock. Azrael gasped. Jessica liked the feel of him—so hard and so deep. She began to move against him, finding the best angle. He made a whimpery noise, reached for her hips. Mal moved up to Azrael’s side and pinned his hands over his head. He nuzzled Azrael’s chin up and kissed his throat.
Jessica watched Azrael’s face—his eyes shut, color in his cheeks, his lips a pleasing pink. Mal’s right hand spread on Azrael’s belly, but then he inched back until his fingers met Jessica’s body. He found her clit and rubbed.
Jessica’s orgasm hit her all at once—ripples of pleasure that seemed to go on and on as she thrust against Azrael’s cock. Mal’s head shifted lower. He bit a nipple, and Azrael’s hips jerked up, back arching, sobbing for breath. Mal let go of his hands, cradled Azrael’s head, kissed his mouth.
Jessica shifted back and off him. She tucked herself down against Azrael’s body and put her head on his chest. “I’ve wanted to do that for almost as long as I’ve known you.”
Azrael laughed breathlessly. He wrapped an arm around her, but then Mal wriggled his way between them. Jessica shifted over, enjoying the delicious tangle of their limbs. Mal pulled Azrael half on top of him, Jessica on his other side. He gathered Azrael’s wet cock into his hand with his own. Azrael wasn’t hard again yet, but Jessica was sure that would change if Mal kept rubbing. He didn’t seem in any hurry.
Azrael tucked his head against Mal’s chest, his fingers threaded through Jessica’s. After a moment, he muttered, “I am going to need a bigger bed.”
Thank you for reading the Incubus Series!
The next book is called Incubus Dreaming.
Order Incubus Book 3 from Amazon.
Would you like to read a short Azrael bonus chapter? This is a cut scene that would have been chapter 5. It shows Azrael’s internal reaction to Mal’s bargain. If you’d like to read that chapter and get updates when new books come out, sign up for the A. H. Lee newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/cYsM9z
About the Author
A. H. Lee is a medical professional. She also writes epic fantasy under another name. You can connect with her on facebook. "Like" her Author Page to get major announcements. If you want to more personal discussion, join her facebook chat group. It's a closed group, but she’ll let you in promptly if you request to join. People can't see what you post there unless they're part of the group.
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