by Alex Jace
INCUBUS
by Alex Jace
© 2013 Alex Jace
Cover art © EroCovers
Table of Contents
#1—TRAPPED
#2—TEMPTED
#3—ESCAPED
#4—CLAIMED
#5—SHARED
#6—TAKEN
#7—FREED
TRAPPED
They brought the prisoner in at sunset.
They entered Summerhall in a group, their steps ringing against the tiled floor. Dying light spilled through the windows and sent their shadows streaming ahead. Sebastian hooked one leg over the arm of his chair and waited for them with a lazy smile, the stem of a glass between his fingers, a last drop of red wine in the bottom.
The villagers stopped some feet short of his chair, not daring to get too close. They had drawn in around their prisoner like a guard; he was hooded, his wrists bound. He stared up at Sebastian, his face shadowed under the hood, all but a defiant mouth and chin sharp enough to cut.
Everyone in the sleepy English villages around here lived in fear of the sorcerer of Summerhall. Sebastian liked the tumbledown old manor and its rich green lands; he made sure to stay on friendly terms with the locals. They brought him gifts and he refrained from setting anything on fire. Simple.
Until now they had always brought him trinkets. Not people.
“You brought me a present?” Sebastian ran his eyes up and down the prisoner. Those bound hands were lovely, long and pale. They would look good fisted in the covers of his bed. “How thoughtful.”
The stocky man at the front cleared his throat. “M’lord.” Sebastian opened his hand, giving permission to speak. “Name’s Carter. I live across the ford, in one of the outlying farms. Found this one hiding in my barn. Thought you might like him.”
“He’s pretty, but I assume he belongs to somebody.” Sebastian stayed comfortable by keeping the locals in a state of moderate fear, not outright hatred. He had no desire to start kidnapping strangers off the street; that would only provoke a confrontation.
“Oh, he’s not a local. He’s not even human.”
They pulled back the hood. And Sebastian stared.
The hood fell back to reveal hair of a striking copper, the shade of an autumn leaf. The prisoner was no older than twenty, lightly built, his face fine to the point of being delicate, his cheekbones knife-sharp. His eyes blazed a brilliant green. Breathtaking. And he was clearly inhuman.
Sebastian’s throat went dry. His fingers dug into the arms of his chair. He knew exactly what he was looking at.
An incubus. A demon from a darker plane, summoned with rituals, bound into a human body. The ritual would be completed by fucking him; that would bind him into servitude forever. The sorcerer who claimed his body would master his soul and take his innate magic. An incubus could be taught to yield to him in every way, to obey him in bed and out. Even thinking about it got him hard.
And this one really was spectacular. Young and stunningly beautiful, with a hostile stare that only made Sebastian want to fuck him even more.
No wonder they kept the prisoner hooded. Anyone who realised what he was would take him as a slave.
“What an extraordinary gift,” Sebastian said in his smoothest voice. “You’ll be rewarded for this. Leave us.”
They left, with many a glance back. He suspected not everyone was entirely thrilled at the thought of him kidnapping a stranger, human or not. Or maybe they just didn’t want him to become more powerful.
As the echoes of their footsteps died away, Sebastian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, admiring his new possession. It was a sight well worth lingering over. The incubus stood no more than five eight, slim of build, just the right height for Sebastian to tip his chin up and kiss him. That mouth was a temptation all by itself, soft and sinful. Copper hair curled slightly against his temples, his throat. Bold cheekbones. Stubborn chin.
The incubus stared back at him, the picture of defiance. He said nothing.
“Who do you belong to?” Sebastian asked him. He’d already decided that the incubus must be a runaway, fleeing from some other sorcerer, though for the life of him Sebastian couldn’t figure out how it happened. Anyone who’d claimed such a prize should have protected him fiercely. “Is your master dead?”
Silence from the incubus, who was clearly in no mood to co-operate. The set of his mouth spoke of contempt.
Sebastian drew his own conclusions from the silence. His smile turned incredulous as light dawned. “Are you seriously telling me you’ve never had a master?”
That tempting mouth tightened. The incubus swallowed. Score.
This was the best possible news. Sebastian would be his first and only master, teaching him to serve his every desire. He was already anticipating it.
Sebastian was intrigued by how such a prize had escaped captivity. Moreover, he wondered how long the incubus had survived alone. It was well known among sorcerers that incubi had a very intense desire to serve and please their masters; they needed lots of attention, particularly in bed. He would have bet that even the most stubborn incubus couldn’t hold out more than a few weeks alone. “Have you been someone’s plaything? A normal man perhaps, not a sorcerer?”
The incubus remained icily silent, but Sebastian could read his deepening blush. Sebastian laughed. “Nobody? Ever? Come on, you must be getting it from somewhere. Have you really never been fucked?” Silence. “Never even had a finger in you?” Silence. “Nobody’s ever touched you? How have you managed?”
“Quite well,” the incubus said in a glacial voice.
“Oh, you do have a tongue. And a sharp one.” Sebastian was smiling broadly now. This sweet little treat had never been tasted. Amazing. “You are the biggest unclaimed prize in the sorcerous world. Anyone would kill for you. And you stumble straight into my bed. I can’t wait to fuck you.”
“Try it,” the incubus said. “I’ll cut your throat in your sleep.”
“I like you already.” Sebastian had always enjoyed a show of defiance; it was why he preferred the company of other sorcerers, who were less afraid of him.
“Do it.” The incubus kept his chin up, his voice cold. “Do it and get it over with.” Finish the ritual and bind him forever.
“Impatient, are we? All in good time. What’s your name?”
“Call me what you want.”
Sebastian stepped down from the chair and took the incubus casually by the throat, not squeezing, just forcing his chin up so that the vivid green eyes met his. The incubus flinched, but with his hands bound there was no point resisting. “I asked your name.”
The incubus swallowed against his fingers. “Kit.”
“Ah, like a kitten.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Sebastian dragged his hungry gaze up and down the incubus, thinking it over. Perhaps the wisest move would be to claim him now. That would be safer; then Kit would be forced to do his will—the ritual that bound him into his human body would demand his obedience. But Sebastian had heard that incubi could find ways to turn on cruel masters. Kit had already threatened to cut his throat in his sleep; Sebastian didn’t want to find out whether that was possible.
It would be better if he could seduce Kit—deliberately, ruthlessly—bringing Kit willing to his bed. He suspected that Kit had only survived alone this long because of his complete inexperience. If Kit was ever introduced to pleasing a master, he would come to crave it intensely. Sebastian suspected the incubus would crack quickly.
“Let me tell you a secret,” Sebastian murmured in his ear, enjoying the shiver that ran through Kit as Kit’s lashes fluttered shut. That pale throat looked delightfully vulnerable; Sebastian thought about biting down on it. “I think you want to be mastered. Need it. Tha
t’s why you were called into this world, into this body. You were meant to serve. So I’ll cut you a deal…”
#
Kit stared a hole in the sorcerer, seething in silence, bottling up his helpless fury. He needed to kill this man if he was going to escape; it was a single thought that beat in time with his pulse.
The sorcerer’s touch made him shudder, part fear, part something else. He knew without a doubt that Sebastian would claim him if not stopped. It was the fate Kit had feared ever since he’d killed the man who had summoned him—an idiot who hadn’t drawn a proper summoning circle to seal him in—and fled the scene in his stolen form. He was already forgetting where he came from, the power that used to be his. It was all trapped inside, waiting for a sorcerer to take it.
Ever since then he’d been too scared to linger anywhere long. Anyone could claim him; he had always known it would happen one day. Now his luck had run out. This was it. Enslavement.
“I’ll cut you a deal,” the sorcerer said. His presence was making Kit’s pulse jump, Kit’s breath come short. Fear, it must be fear. The man was intimidatingly big, powerfully built. Black hair. Ice-blue eyes. He was unfairly handsome, not that Kit noticed—Kit was very determinedly not noticing. And that anticipating smile was making Kit feel like a mouse with a cat. “I won’t finish the ritual until you ask me to. If you can resist me for three days, you can walk free. If you yield, you belong to me forever, body and soul.”
Kit’s eyes opened wide despite himself. The sheer audacity of that offer stunned him—as if Kit would ever ask to be enslaved by a sorcerer. He knew how cruelly a sorcerer would use him, how defenceless he would be. It would be madness to even consider it. “Am I supposed to believe that? Why would you ever let me go? You people can’t get enough of us.” He was like a very expensive piece of jewellery to them, a prize to be displayed, a symbol of wealth and power.
“Maybe I’m just very confident.” The sorcerer smiled. “I think you’ll quickly realise that your place is in my bed.”
Well, the man was clearly an idiot, but Kit had no problem taking advantage of that. How hard could it be to not have sex with someone? Kit had been doing it for years. He was too afraid to let anyone that close, though he sometimes ached for touch. Of course he could resist Sebastian. Even though the way Sebastian was looking at him made him feel strange inside, hot and prickly, fear and something else.
“Fine,” said Kit. “I think you’ll quickly realise that you’re wrong.”
“We’ll see,” said the sorcerer, with just the trace of a smirk. “Let me lay down some rules. You seem like the type to need them. The troublemaking type.” Kit did not dignify that with a response. “You obey me. You make no attempt to escape. And no attempt to harm me. Otherwise I’m sure you’d stab me with a dinner knife.”
Kit lowered his eyes. That had been exactly his plan—kill the sorcerer and escape. Now that they had a deal, it was too dangerous; there was no point taking such a risk if he could walk free in three days.
“Last rule,” the sorcerer said. “Nobody touches you but me. Not the servants, not the locals, not even yourself. I’m the only one who gives you pleasure. If you want it, you have to ask. I’ll be generous. I can give you what you need as long as you ask for it.”
Kit had been threatened with a lot of things over the years, but never pleasure. He was so startled that he lifted his eyes; the sorcerer was looking at him with amusement. A spark of secret curiosity lit before Kit stamped it out. This was about violence and enslavement. Not enjoyment. So he should not be wondering exactly what the sorcerer might do to him if he asked nicely.
“In return,” the sorcerer said, “I’ll treat you with reasonable hospitality. And I won’t claim you until you ask for it. Until you beg.”
“I will not,” Kit said.
“You will,” Sebastian said.
Kit was staking his freedom on his certainty that he could resist this arrogant, infuriating man. Kit swallowed hard, and took the deal.
Sebastian unbound his hands, but kept hold of him, which was not at all an improvement. The heat of Sebastian’s touch seemed to burn, seemed to tingle, seemed to leave scorches on his skin. Kit tested his grip, but couldn’t break it. “Let me go.” Kit’s voice went up a notch.
“In a moment,” the sorcerer said, and backed him against the wall.
Kit’s back hit stone. Kit stiffened, struck again by how intimidatingly huge Sebastian was. He felt extremely small. “What are you—”
Sebastian crushed him into the wall and captured his mouth in a kiss.
It was so sudden, so fierce that Kit gasped against his mouth. The sorcerer had caught him off guard; he could not remember the last time anyone had touched him, and the sheer sensation was overwhelming. That kiss demanded his surrender, and Kit yielded instinctively, opening for his tongue. Kit’s hands slid traitorously up those powerful shoulders and he found himself clinging to Sebastian, fighting for air. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only hold on as Sebastian plundered his mouth, grinding his thick, hot erection against him.
Kit was burning up, trapped between Sebastian’s heat and the icy stone, filled with a feverish ache. His heart beat frantically. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t yield enough. He needed more. Sebastian angled Kit’s face just right to deepen the kiss and Kit made a strangled sound, dazed and desperate, feeling like he was falling.
Then Sebastian broke away. Kit made an involuntary sound of protest; Sebastian chuckled. Bastard. Kit clutched the wall to hold himself up, feeling shaken to his foundations. He couldn’t believe how intense that had been, how vulnerable he felt, as though the sorcerer had taken a piece of his soul along with that stolen kiss.
“Just making my point,” Sebastian said. His voice had gone low and rough.
Kit couldn’t seem to catch his breath, his heart racing, his mouth stinging. He reddened helplessly. The heat in his face was only half shame.
He had to tear himself away. He stalked out without daring to look at the sorcerer.
In the corridor outside Kit leaned against the cold wall, sick and helpless, furious at himself for his weakness. Terrified by it. He had been so sure he wouldn’t even be tempted. He didn’t want this. Did not. Could not. He waited for his breathing to slow, his heartbeat to settle.
“Now that that’s settled…” The sorcerer came to rejoin him, looking extremely pleased with himself. Kit was not going to last three days of this without losing his cool. “Let me show you around.” Sebastian held out a hand; Kit glared at his hand until he let it drop. Kit couldn’t stand the knowing smile on his face, as though he had always known how easy this would be. “Come on. You’ll be staying here a while, after all.”
Permanently, if the sorcerer had his way. Kit was going to show him he was wrong. Kit set his teeth and let Sebastian guide him.
The manor itself was beautiful, a house of golden stone cloaked in ivy, all gables and windows. It lay cupped in a hollow of green fields and forests. The stone must keep it cool on hot nights, and the huge windows let in amber shafts of sunset, veiled only by gauzy curtains that fluttered in the slight breeze. There was a long dining table in a dark-panelled room alight with paintings of fires and autumn trees in similar reds. The house was served by an old-style kitchen, and the gardens outside were a mystery of shadows, glimpsed through the back door.
There was even an indoor pool. The water gleamed like a handful of blue jewels. Kit eyed it, and backed away mistrustfully.
He couldn’t help but notice that all the servants they encountered were suspiciously young and attractive. He tried not to wonder whether they were Sebastian’s playthings; it was none of his business. It definitely did not make him jealous. At all.
“Well, that’s everything.” Sebastian kept looking at him with that particular gleam, as though Kit must be delicious. “Did you like the tour?”
For a forbidden moment Kit wondered if he really would be delicious. If Sebastian would enjoy tasting h
im, exploring him, claiming him.
“No,” Kit lied. “I didn’t.”
#
Sebastian was feeling smug. For all the incubus’ defiance, he’d practically ignited at Sebastian’s touch, couldn’t get enough of his kiss. No way would it take three whole days to get him into bed. “Are you hungry?” Sebastian asked, since they’d missed dinner.
“No.” The incubus looked at him, then away, reddening.
“Don’t be stubborn.” Sebastian used his warning voice. He suspected Kit would like being told what to do. “You’re hungry. Let me feed you.” He steered the incubus firmly into the dining room, ignoring his protests.
The scarlet light of sunset fell into the long room, striking sparks off the gilded frames of the portraits hanging on the wall. A table fit to seat twenty ran the length of the room. Kit pulled out a chair at the far end of the table, as far away from Sebastian as possible.
“Come here.” Sebastian’s tone brooked no argument.
Kit inched closer.
“I said come here.”
Kit reluctantly came close enough that Sebastian could catch his wrist. Kit tensed, but didn’t push him away, though his face was turned away. “Sit in my lap,” Sebastian said. “And if I have to repeat myself again, I’m going to spank you.”
Kit reddened even more, but crept into his lap. It felt sinfully good the way Kit straddled him, those sweet thighs parted. Kit’s breath caught as he settled himself. Sebastian groaned at the hot weight of him rubbing up against Sebastian’s hard cock. “Good,” Sebastian praised. “I’m going to feed you now, so behave.”
Sebastian dragged over a bowl of fruit, picked out a strawberry and held it to his lips. Kit reached up to take it; Sebastian said “No,” sharply, and Kit stopped. “You can eat from my fingers.”
Kit wavered, reluctant. “I can eat by myself.”
“You eat what I give you or not at all.”
That changed Kit’s mind; perhaps he hadn’t eaten well as a fugitive. Kit leaned in and delicately took the strawberry from Sebastian’s fingers. He bit down with a sweet sound of pleasure that only got Sebastian hotter for him. “Well done,” Sebastian praised again. “Another?”