by Shona Husk
Her friends back home had told her not to do it. They couldn’t understand why she’d volunteered to go and live in a dome filled with Metas for two and a half years. Phoebe had pointed out that there would be other Humans, but that hadn’t allayed their fears. They thought she’d get eaten by something. Or poisoned or kidnapped. They’d come with a variety of awful scenarios, each worse than the last based on very little information.
Most of the Metas she’d seen had been just like anyone else—even if some of them did look a little odd—they had jobs and a partner, or were looking for a partner, and were worried about making this experiment a success. No one wanted another war. The last one had been devastating to the Metas and Humans.
For Phoebe, it had been an opportunity to remake herself after her divorce.
This was the kind of extended working holiday that she needed, and she was getting well paid for it. It was the money that had really swayed her. At first she’d hung around the Humans, but now the Metas fascinated her. They were all so different, and yet they had shared a planet before weather gone wild had made it uninhabitable.
She wanted to ask about what it had been like, but wasn’t sure who would remember their home world. Or who would want to remember what they’d lost. Some of the Metas were nearly immortal, others had more Human lifespans. Some looked Human and others—like the mermaids, were something else.
Actual mermaids.
It still amazed her.
And actual Vampires—they still freaked her out, even though she knew they were really careful to monitor their blood intake. One had asked her if she’d like to spend the night with him, a little blood in exchange for the best sex of her life.
That had been six months ago, and she’d turned him down. She’d been such a prude back then. If a Meta asked her out today she would say yes.
No, she wouldn’t.
Yes, she would, and she wouldn’t care what the other Humans thought. There were some Humans who were quite against mixing too closely with Metas.
The bar was filled with both, and no one seemed too concerned about getting too close. She really needed to make the most of this experience, if she didn’t, she was sure she’d regret it.
A woman sauntered over. She wasn’t Human, her eyes were just a little too wide and round. Selkie?
Yeah, that was it, but Phoebe didn’t say anything. It would be rude to ask. Instead, she just poured the drink.
“You’re Human, right?” The woman leaned closer to make herself heard.
“Yeah.” Phoebe nodded too, her throat was suddenly dry.
“Shortest day of the year, today.”
No, it wasn’t. The Complex had twelve hours of light and twelve hours of dark every single day of the year. The planet they were on, Lorn, might be experiencing its shortest day, but no one was allowed outside the giant dome that housed the experiment. And like any good experiment, they were all being watched. Phoebe tilted her head, not sure why the woman was so interested in the shortest day. “And?”
“And the Incubi will be holding their leadership fights.” She put her finger to her lips as though she’d just revealed a secret.
There was meant to be no fighting, obviously some ignored that rule. “Incubi…” Had she ever seen one of them?
“They like parties and to incite orgies. You must get them in here.”
They probably did come here. “What do they look like?”
The Selkie laughed. “Whatever you want them to look like…although you might see them as they really are.” She tapped behind her ear as though she had an implant.
Phoebe almost reached up to touch the implant behind her ear that protected her from the Metas’ powers. “Yeah, maybe. Are you looking for one?”
The Selkie leaned even closer. “Once a year, one of them gets to fuck, and it is so worth it. They get all amped up on lust and let it all out in one night. I’m hoping to run into one.”
“There aren’t many in here, though?” Phoebe was sure that she’d read something about them. There had been all kinds of information about all the Metas. She’d read up on them all when she’d first arrived, but now all that information had bled together, and for the most part, she couldn’t remember who had what power.
The Selkie shook her head. “No, and for the rest of the year, they’re useless in bed. Let me know if you see one.” She waved her palm over the scanner to pay for her drink, then grabbed her glass and pushed into the crowd.
Even if Phoebe knew what she was looking for, she had no idea who the Selkie was or why she’d want an Incubus.
The one thing she knew about the Incubi was that they were parasites.
2
Kearn could see the changes happening when he looked in the mirror. He dried off and saw the muscles move beneath his skin. It wasn’t just hunger making his skin ache for contact— there was a deeper need. One he hadn’t felt before.
His phallus was now thick and heavy. His body was almost ready to breed. He rolled his shoulders and smiled. The man who looked back wasn’t the same man who’d entered the ring to fight for his place in the group, determined not to be at the bottom.
He’d won the right to lead and pass on his genes.
He might have won the right to breed, but he still had to convince a woman to host his child. There was no registry of willing surrogates. Succubi and Selkies were often willing, but there were some Metas that even Incubi avoided. Some couldn’t be trusted, or worse, killed the Incubus baby.
Leech. Parasite.
There’d been some Metas who’d wanted to leave them on the planet to die. Some hadn’t wanted them in the Complex either. But in the end, they’d been allowed. After all, they were really no worse than any other kind of Vampire. At least when an Incubus fed, they left their victims feeling good.
Tavor was waiting for him in the hallway a sneer on his face. “I thought I’d win this year. Instead, you somehow manage to win. Last year’s runt.”
“Anyone can fight and try for better status.”
Tavor’s eyes were dark and flat. “I will find out how you won.”
“I fought.” Kearn started to walk away, then stopped. “Why no registry, Tavor, or were you lax in your duty?”
Tavor’s fingers curled into a fist. Would he dare strike the leader? “Do not question me.”
“Without a registry, what do we do?”
Tavor laughed. “That would be your problem, Leader Kearn.” There was only condescension in his tone.
Kearn wanted to punch Tavor in the face. That wasn’t a new urge, and he wished he’d gotten a few hits in during the fight. He’d read that aggression increased with each win during the fights. That the changes start happening straight away, though the first loss halts any change. That crushing disappointment was hormonal.
Tavor had been hyped up, only to lose. After winning for several years, was the sting of losing greater? “Does it hurt more to lose that final fight? You were so close to being a leader again…that has to burn.”
Losing his first round fight last year had been a bitter blow. The shame had compounded it. He shouldn’t have fought and lost and lowered his status. He’d hidden away for days before facing his people. A week later, he’d had a new plan.
The pain of training had been worth it. The slurs in the gym from the other Metas added fuel to his need. He was worthwhile. He couldn’t help what his kind were…at least they were honest about it unlike the other vampiric Metas.
Tavor crashed into him and pushed him against the wall, but Kearn was ready. He dodged and spun Tavor so his face was to the wall and his arm was twisted behind his back. “I am leader now.”
“This year. If you don’t breed, you won’t get to fight again.”
Kearn twisted Tavor’s arm a little harder. “I will breed. I will be a good leader.”
“You have no idea what you are doing. You are wasting time. By morning you will be looking for somewhere to plant your seed and anywhere will be looking good.”
Tavor said nothing. He really wasn’t offering up any help. He didn’t need Tavor’s help. Kearn released him with a shove.
“Next year, I will take back my leadership from you.” Tavor said with a smirk.
“It’s not your leadership. It’s for the strongest to claim, and you are already weakening.”
Even if he bred, he could still step aside. He could retain high status—though never as high as the leader. The primal part of his brain was screaming not to be a fool, to fight and win and breed again. The logical part was having a hard time staying afloat in a sea of hormones.
Was this what it was like for species who mated all the time? How did they ever concentrate on their work and what they were doing?
“I hope all the women shun you, and you waste it on the ground so your line dies with you,” Tavor said. “I should’ve won. I am a good leader.” Tavor looked like he wanted to start a fight, but he didn’t move. He’d lost once already tonight and wouldn’t risk his pride again. “I kept us safe in the petri dish experiment.”
“You kept us out of the experiment. Punished those who dared to mingle.” Every time he’d snuck off to the gym to train, he’d been worried. But he hadn’t kept to a routine. He’d been smart and he’d only been caught sneaking out twice. Both times he’d been punished by Tavor, both times he’d thought about quitting.
He was so glad he’d persevered.
“We need to be part of it. We need to show the Humans and the other Metas that we can live among them, not just in our own enclaves.”
“That is how we exist. It is how we’ve always existed. It’s tradition.”
“A tradition that was created before space travel and before science.”
“You will destroy us. I won’t let you.” Tavor’s lips drew back in a snarl. Once Kearn would’ve felt threatened. Not today. Today he was sure he could deal with whatever Tavor tried.
Kearn stepped closer. Tavor already seemed smaller and weaker. “I am the leader for the next year, and I decide what’s best for us. I think the remaining time in the Complex should be spent exploring options. I’m going to make a start tonight.”
He brushed past Tavor. He needed to go out and start looking for a host. The best place to find women was a night club. He hadn’t been to one since his last big mistake. While he’d gotten in trouble, everyone in the club had had a great time. His skin had almost crackled with energy as he fed on their desire. No one had noticed a stray hand as he’d brushed by, feeding with every touch.
Better to create pleasure than a fight…although he had enjoyed the tension in the gym the way the men felt as they stepped up to train and fight. He hadn’t been able to feed so easily there though, as touching—unless the contact was during the fight—was frowned upon. He’d been told off by the gym owner.
Maybe he could start an orgy tonight. His lips curved.
Lust was pumping through his veins. He didn’t want to just start an orgy, he wanted to be part of it.
At first, Phoebe couldn’t say what had changed in the bar. People were happy, they were buying drinks and dancing. But…it was different. The music hadn’t changed, but the vibe had. Was it a Shojo? She didn’t know much about them, but they could make or break a business. She was hoping that it wasn’t. She didn’t want to have to keep a Meta happy to keep the business profitable.
The Uni Sip Three wasn’t the only bar or nightclub in the Complex. The Complex was huge. So big that is was possible to forget they were all trapped inside—until she looked at the way everyone was dressed the same in the clothing that had been supplied to them when they’d entered the Complex, and that no matter where she went, there was a uniformity to the buildings. It was a city, with all the good and bad that entailed, and everyone was here for different reasons.
She kept an eye on the crowd and a smile stuck to her face. The dancing gradually shifted to something a little more sensuous. The beat was in her blood now, pulsing low in her belly. Lust.
She hadn’t been celibate since arriving in the Complex, but she’d only had Human lovers, even though she had seen some very attractive Metas. Lust shouldn’t be hitting her this hard. She was at work.
She drew in a breath. Yes, she was at work.
The Selkie woman walked by, her gaze on the crowd as though looking for someone.
It wasn’t a Shojo affecting the patrons and making the business successful. There was an Incubus in the crowd, and he was whipping up an orgy, or at least some sexual excitement so he could feed off it. Better that than a fight. There had been an Incubus-caused fight last month on the other side of the Complex. That’s what everyone was saying, but no one could actually prove it as the crowd had already been riled.
It was hard to prove that Incubi were involved. Maybe this was nothing.
If it was nothing, why was her body reacting? Her nipples were tight and her panties were damp. It had been a few weeks, maybe she needed to get laid. The more she watched the dancing the more she wanted to join in and have fun.
That was all it was. How could she remain unaffected when people were kissing and grinding all over the place?
A man walked over to the bar, he was smiling. It took Phoebe a moment to realize that it wasn’t a trick of the lights on his skin. His skin actually glowing in places, the brilliant blue a sharp contrast to the gray of the rest of his skin. The lines of blue traced up his forearms and beneath the black of his shirt, they crept out of the collar and streaked his face. The blue lines pulsed, the illumination never constant.
The effect was mesmerizing.
His eyes seemed to be lit up with the same magic. They were blue, though not as bright as the lines on his skin.
She blinked. It wasn’t magic. This was the Incubus.
No, maybe she was wrong. What did they look like again? She should be immune to him. Was her implant working? Her hand slid up to her ear as though she could check to make sure the blocking device was on and operating.
He caught the move and stopped a few feet from the bar. He stared at her and she stared back.
Her hand lowered and she remembered that she was at work and he probably just wanted a drink. All that sexy dancing was bound to make anyone thirsty. Did Incubi get thirsty? “Can I help you?”
He closed the distance, but seemed more wary. “I’d like a drink.”
Apparently they did get thirsty. But she had no idea what they drank, and they had a variety of specialty drinks behind the bar. “Anything in particular?”
Was no one else seeing the bright blue lines tracing over his skin? They rippled like lightning and begged to be touched. Were they everywhere on him?
He glanced behind her to the shelf she was pointing to. “I’m celebrating.” He frowned as though not sure what he should be celebrating with.
“Well, why don’t you have a cocktail?” He didn’t look like he’d appreciate a glass of bubbly. “Or go with a classic, beer.”
He glanced at her then back at the dancers who were still grinding away, but had their clothes on, mostly. “I’ll just have the beer.”
“You don’t seem like you’re celebrating.” She said as the poured the beer. He should be out on the dance floor, picking up. Isn’t that what the Selkie had said? Something about ritual fights and good sex.
“It’s…” He held her gaze this time. His eyes flickered with the same blue light. He was rather pretty, despite his gray skin. “You’re Human.”
She nodded. There was no point in lying. “And you?”
He smiled. “You already know.” He picked up the beer and his fingertips brushed hers for a split second.
Then he was walking away.
Had he just fed off her? She looked at her hand, but it seemed the same. She felt the same, maybe a little more desperate. It should be easy to spot him on the dance floor, but it wasn’t. He’d vanished into the crowd.
It was almost too easy to get the dancers to the brink. This time, Kear
n was careful not to let it spill over. That would get frowned on by the authorities, and since he was the leader, he was supposed to set a good example. He’d learned, hanging around other Metas and Humans as he learned to fight had honed his skills in the ring and out of it. It was easy to control people’s desires, all he had to do was read the crowd right.
They wanted the same thing as him tonight. Sex.
The urge was unnatural and unfamiliar in his body, but it was a hunger he needed to sate. There were plenty of women here. He danced with some of them, let his hand glide over their skin so he could absorb some of their desire. But the Meta women saw him as one of their own, they didn’t see him. There was no way he could turn off that ability to mask his true self any more than he could stop the beat of his heart. It was how his species lived with others. When Metas saw an Incubus, they saw what they wanted to see, someone who fit in. It was nothing that Kearn did consciously.
This was the one night he wanted someone. If he didn’t fight and win next year, it might be the only time in his life that he wanted to have sex, and he wanted the person he was with to see him. He glanced over at the bar to the working human, but couldn’t see her.
She was pretty, and she’d been curious. More importantly, she hadn’t flinched at his touch. However, she knew what he was and may not be interested.
And she was Human. Incubi had never mated with Humans before. The wars and then tradition had prevented such liaisons. Tonight was a chance to change that. Would it even work with a Human? He wasn’t sure it was a risk he should take, even though it would completely shatter Incubi tradition. Tavor would be livid.
A Selkie woman slid up to him. She ran her hand along his arm as she leaned in close. “Cool to touch, yet you look like a Selkie. I don’t think you are.”
He took a step back. He’d seen her stalking the crowd and looking a little too hard. She’d been looking for him. He shook his head.
She moved in closer. “I can give you want you want.”
He wanted to ask why? Why would she spend the night with him? But he didn’t need to ask, it would be for the money. She didn’t know him; she didn’t even know his name.