The Blaze: Succubus Studies Serial (Succubus Harem Book 7)

by L. L. Frost

  The small ignis demon flickers to blue with happiness.

  “The cupcakes came out perfectly baked. Excellent job keeping the temperature even on all the ovens.” I tap a handful of wood pellets into my palm, then add them to his bowl inside the oven, the back of my hand burning with how close I come to him. “We’re going to have another long day tomorrow, so get lots of rest, okay?”

  The flame flickers white hot before it mellows into a soft, yellow heat.

  Closing the hatch, I stand with a groan and press my fists into the small of my back. When Tally left, I was still undecided on whether to hire her. She mastered the two other flower designs I showed her with ridiculous ease, and when she asked to take the leftover cakes home to continue practicing, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

  Which means she’ll be back bright and early tomorrow morning.

  Double checking that the imps locked the door and shut off all the lights in the front, I shrug out of my chef coat and toss it in the laundry bin. The cold air nips at my exposed arms, and I shiver, ready to get out here and into the warm summer night.

  I grab the box of cupcakes from the kitchen island and shoulder my way out into the alley, surprised to find it cold outside, too. With the next building over too close to allow the sun in, shadows cover the alley.

  After sitting uncovered all day, my car should be a hot box. Eager, I hurry toward the sun-drenched parking lot. But when I unlock my old sedan and climb inside, the sweltering inferno can’t dispel the chill from my bones.

  Heat waves rise from the hood of my car, and my palms sting as I grip the steering wheel, but the fatigue of the day sits heavy on my shoulders. I set the box of cupcakes in the passenger seat and buckle in before turning on the ignition. Warm air blasts in my face, the air conditioner still on full force from this morning. I shut it off before it turns cold, then pull out of the parking lot and aim the car toward home.

  My plan to run errands and pick up a baby name book and sparkle toys for the imps takes a back seat to the aches in my body. I’ll just go after work tomorrow.

  By the time I park in the driveway and shut off the car, it takes a herculean effort to drag myself up the porch stairs and into the house. I step out of my shoes at the door, kicking them under the bench where Tobias and Emil’s black loafers are neatly lined up side-by-side.

  When I shuffle into the living room, I find the two men already changed out of their business suits. Tobias sits in one of the leather chairs, feet propped up on a footstool and laptop balanced on his knees.

  He glances up as I enter, wavy, chestnut-brown hair flopping across his forehead to make him appear younger and more relaxed. “How was your interview?”

  “Not sure yet,” I mumble as I shuffle to the couch, where Emil sits with his back wedged into one corner as he reads something on his tablet. Tac sprawls on the floor next to him, and as I near, the giant cat beast rolls on his back to expose his belly.

  I step over him to wedge myself into the couch opposite Emil and tug the throw blanket off the back of the couch to wrap it around my shoulders. At some point, I need to go into the kitchen to make dinner. Over the last two weeks, we’ve fallen into a pattern of exchanging meals, and tonight is my night. There’s pasta to boil and parmesan cheese to grate.

  Instead of moving, I snuggle farther into the corner.

  Emil’s foot nudges against mine. “Hard day?”

  “You have no idea.” I rest my head against the back of the couch, the leather cushion soft under my cheek from years of use, and my eyelids drift shut.

  The sound of metal against wood draws my attention, and through my lashes, I spot Emil’s tablet now on the narrow bookcase behind the couch, between two green glass lamps. A moment later, the couch bounces and cold hands curl around my left foot, strong fingers kneading into my arch.

  “Ah, that’s so good.” I stretch out my leg to make it easier for him.

  “Did things not go well at the store?” Tobias asks.

  “There was a lot to do.” I roll my head to peek at him.

  In dark-gray, flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt, he’s a far cry from the executive who tried to force me into indentured servitude. The energy in my belly stirs as I remember our kiss yesterday, the tangle of tongues and push for dominance. The memory should stir heat through my body, but it swirls sluggishly, like honey, and I realize that the day sapped away more than just my physical strength.

  Between the energy I drank from Tobias yesterday, and what I skim from them daily, I should still have a nice reserve in my stomach. But when I poke at it now, I discover it dangerously low.

  “Can the new baker recreate your flowers?” Emil’s hands move up from my heel to find the bare skin of my ankle and ice seeps into my body, shivering along my bones to spindle into my belly.

  I inch lower on the couch and lick my lips. “Yeah, she’s great.”

  “But you’re not sure if she’s a good fit?” Tobias’s voice comes closer, and a moment later, he kneels by my head.

  Emil’s palm cups my calf, bringing my leg alongside his hip, and between the two men, I find myself trapped. “Hey, look at the time. I should start dinner.”

  Tobias’s hand on my shoulder keeps me in place. “You’re tired. You should rest longer.”

  “No, it’s my ni—”

  His longer fingers circle my throat, and a groan of pleasure escapes as his energy sinks into me, a blaze of fire that rushes from my throat, over my breasts, and into my stomach to dance around Emil’s.

  Frost creeps over my knees, ghosts up my thighs, and my mind blanks out from the dual sensory overload. A rough thumb sweeps over my lower lip and I blink up at Tobias.

  The black of his eyes bleeds to fill the whites as the air turns heavy, pressing me deeper into the couch. His eyes focus on my mouth. “I’ve been thinking of the rules board.”

  “Yeah?” I shiver as Emil traces snowflake patterns behind my knees. “What about them?”

  My breath catches as he leans closer. “Don’t you think it’s safe to move kisses to the yes section?”

  “I’m not sure…” I lick my lips again and brush against the rough pad of his thumb. Salt and heat with a hint of lemon soap.

  “Don’t be greedy, Tobias.” Cold air sweeps along my inner thigh, and I glance down my body to see Emil’s white head between my legs. One hand skims along my pant leg to slip beneath the hem of my tank top, spreading prickles of ice across my lower stomach. “Touching is satisfying, too.”

  Tobias rumbles in agreement and his thumb sweeps back over my lower lip before pressing inside my mouth to rub against my tongue. “Yes, just touching has its own appeal.”

  The simmer of dormant volcanoes trickles down my throat. My body aches, the need to glut myself on their energy, and fill myself with fire and ice, rattles my bones.

  I spent all day making desserts, but none of those treats can give me the same satisfaction as these men.

  My arm loops around Tobias’s neck, and I tug him down. His hand moves back to my throat, dominating even as his lips part to allow the thrust of my tongue. Lava pours into me, slamming into my belly, then out through my limbs until my skin tightens with the heat.

  For a moment, I worry I’ll melt. That, this time, I took in too much too fast, but then Emil’s hands on my skin ease the burn, tempering the fire.

  When I push Tobias back, my lips sting as if sunburnt. I reach for the ice demon, dragging him up to cover my overheated body. His soft hair slides between my fingers as I bring his mouth to mine, licking at the icicle flavor of his tongue. Ice crackles through my blood, my lips numb as I seal them over his, lapping at the glacier of power inside him.

  My legs curl around his hips, pulling him closer until the hard bulge of his cock presses against my core.

  His mouth leaves mine to press frosty kisses down my throat and Tobias comes back, mouth hot and demanding as he pours more energy into me. Inside, the place where I keep energy fizzles and cracks, a jagge
d fissure that cuts with both pleasure and pain. It hurts, like something inside me is being forced open.

  Panicked, I push Tobias away with more force than I planned. Already off balance, he slams onto his ass, eyes wide with surprise. His foot shoots out, strikes the couch leg, and the wooden foot snaps off, tipping the corner forward. Emil and I slide toward the edge and Emil lifts onto his hands and knees, white eyes dazed with lust and confusion.

  I scramble out from beneath him and over the arm of the couch to land in a graceless sprawl on the hardwood floor.

  “Adie?” Emil peeks over the arm of the couch. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” I stumble to my feet, tugging my clothes back into place. My hands shake, and I curl them into fists to hide behind my back. “I forgot I needed to stop at the bookstore. I’m just going to…”

  My eyes stay focused on my feet as I stride toward the door. The bare toes of one foot catch my attention. I’m missing a sock, but I can’t go back for it.

  Going back scares me.

  “Adie, wait, I’ll drive you,” Tobias calls.

  “I’m fine!” I yell back, not sure it’s safe to drive, but I need to be away from them right now. I grab my shoes from under the bench and flee the house before they can stop me.

  Crackles

  The drive to the bookstore passes in a blur, and I thank whatever instincts and divine providence that keep me from getting in an accident. I park my car in the lot at the back of the store and turn off the ignition, then stare at the steering wheel for a while. My body hurts, but not in the same fatigued way it did when I left the bakery, a little over an hour ago. This pain goes deeper, to the part of me I associate with my corporeal form.

  When I prod at the link to my succubus energy, the bond crackles and sparks fitfully. Did I hurt myself in some way? Is the destructive energy I take in damaging me somehow? Will another feeding like tonight’s break me apart?

  I hug my elbows, angry that my efforts to self-educate have moved at a snail’s pace. Maybe I should go back to the library, or drive out to Landon’s and try to get my mentor to focus long enough to answer questions.

  A laughing couple passes the hood of my car, jolting me out of my revery. If I stay in my car much longer, the parking lot security will think I’m suspicious and chase me away. I push open my door and climb out, then walk to the back entrance of the local bookstore.

  The small shop smells of ink and aged paper, a scent unique to books. To maximize space, the tall shelves rise all the way to the ceiling, with overstock stored at the top. It creates a close, labyrinthian sensation of adventure. Tension eases from my body as I find comfort in the familiar.

  When I first left Landon’s house for my own apartment, I spent a lot of time here in the baking section, researching recipes. Cozy nooks tucked away in corners encourages reading the merchandise, and I came here every day until I found the perfect set of books to learn to create my own recipes.

  The deeper I venture into the store, the more the crackly sensation inside eases. Maybe I took in too much too fast, and I needed time for the energy to settle. It’s weird, though. I’ve fed heavier in the past, filled myself until I was high on energy. But never on another demon.

  My feet take me to the cooking section, and my heart lifts with happiness at the site of chalkboard labels with the newest staff recommendations on them. Glossy spines line the shelf, the space too limited to face any of the covers outward. One of the chalkboard signs says Cakes From Around the World.

  Curious, I tug it free and flip through the illustrated book, charmed by the photos of crepe cakes and dense tarts, cakes stuffed with nuts and soaked in brandy, and colorful balls of rice flour covered sweets. The meringue cake piled with fresh fruit sells me on the book, and I tuck it beneath my arm.

  Back in the main aisle, I locate the maternity section, then crouch to skim through the baby name books. As I reach for one with a white spine and rainbow bubble letters, my phone rings.

  I tug it from my pocket, expecting to see either Tobias or Emil’s name. Instead, my cousin Julian’s name flashes on the screen. Concerned about my imps, I accept the call. “Hey, Julian, what’s up?”

  “What did you do to my imps?” he shrieks through the speaker.

  With a sigh, I grab the baby name book and stand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Rainbow freaking hair!” he shouts. “How am I supposed to market rainbow hair?”

  “You don’t have to market it.” I wander farther down the aisle, not wanting to be on the phone when I check out. “They work for me, and I’m fine with it.”

  “What if this spreads to the other imps?” he demands. “I won’t be able to cater high-end events.”

  I stop in my tracks as anger bubbles up to match his. “You’re supposed to be acclimating new arrivals to their new home, Julian. They don’t all have to look like porn stars.”

  He ignores my reprimand. “This is your fault. Fix it.”

  “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.” And I definitely don’t want to. “You know you can’t force an them to choose a form.”

  He growls into the phone. “Get rid of whatever inspirational material you gave them to let this happen.”

  “Can’t do that either,” I take an evil pleasure in telling him. “They already hid it.”

  “Find it.”

  “No can do.” I have a good idea, based on the flour footprints, where they’re putting their hoard, but I refuse to take the magazines away from them.

  “If they infect my other imps, they can’t come back to the office anymore,” he threatens.

  My spine stiffens. “Part of our contract is that you pay for their lodging and transportation.”

  “Part of our contract is that you return them in usable condition,” he purrs, satisfaction thick in his tone.

  I pull the phone away from my ear to glare at it before snapping, “It’s only rainbow hair, Julian!”

  “And what will it be tomorrow? Tattoos? Beards?” His shudder of distaste comes clear through the speaker. “Fix this mess, or you’ll be taking full responsibility for these imps.”

  “I’m not licensed for that!”

  “Not my problem, dear.” His tone lightens. “So how’s the self-education coming along? Learn anything new?”

  I hang up on him and shove the phone back in my pocket.

  When I glance around, I find myself in a Teen section I’ve never ventured into before. Self-help books line the shelves, and one of them catches my eye. Gender and What it Means to You.

  Annoyed at my cousin, I add it to the stack.

  My imps can be whatever the hell they want to be.

  ***

  I park back at the house, then leave the bags from the bookstore and pet store in the passenger seat before sneaking inside. I feel normal now, and my earlier panic embarrasses me. Silent, I line my neon blue clogs up next to Tobias and Emil’s loafers and tiptoe to the end of the wall that separates the entry from the living room.

  When I peek around the corner, I find the room abandoned. The couch lays upside down, a clamp holding the broken leg in place, and the scent of wood glue fills the room. The low rumble of male voices comes through the archway that leads to the kitchen, accompanied by the clink of cups against the granite countertop.

  Glad for the reprieve, I tiptoe toward the spiral staircase next to the fireplace that will lead to my room, where I can hide for the rest of the night.

  I reach the end of the couch and a low snuffle comes from behind me. A quick glance over my shoulder shows Tac sprawled behind the couch, his giant head up and alert as he blinks saucer sized green eyes at me. His tufted ears swivel in the direction of the kitchen, then back toward me.

  Finger pressed to my lips, I take another step away.

  Tac’s wings rustle, and he climbs to his feet, tail whomping against the floor. I spin and hold my hands out as I whisper, “Stay.”

  I
nstead, he leaps forward, mouth open to display dagger sized fangs.

  With a shriek, I spin and bolt for the stairs. The last time he came after me like this, Kellen had told him to fetch me out of my room.

  Hot breath caresses my neck and I veer right, away from the stairway. Tac’s large, fur-covered feet struggle for traction on the hardwood, and he rips furrows in the floor as he tries to stop his momentum. He slams into the wall. The house shakes with the impact, and Tac shakes his head as I put the couch between us.

  “Adie, is that you?” Emil calls from the kitchen.

  Tac lumbers to his feet, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he zeros in on me, and I yell, “Call him off!”

  “Call who off?’ Emil appears in the archway at the same moment that Tac launches himself into the air, wings spread.

  “Shit!” I drop to the ground and crawl under the coffee table. “I’m not a knight! Don’t eat me!”

  A heavy body lands on the wooden surface above me, black wings coming down to cage me in place. A loud, chainsaw purr vibrates through the table to echo through my body and into the floor.

  The noise deafens me, and I beg, “Call him off, Emil!”

  Emil crouches next to the table, amusement in his frosty gaze. “You’re late for dinner. Do you know what happens when Tac doesn’t get dinner?”

  I tip my chin to stare up at the underside of the table. “He eats people?”

  “No.” Emil reaches a hand down to help pull me out. “He herds people to the kitchen where he knows the food is.”

  “Why didn’t you just feed him?” When I stand, Tac nudges his head against my back and I fall against Emil’s chest.

  The ice demon catches me, face close to mine as he lifts one white eyebrow. “Because it’s not my night.”

  His chest against mine cools my skin, turning my nipples into hard pebbles, but his temperature is warmer than it was earlier when his weight pressed me into the couch. The memory makes my core tighten. I've never let a person pin me down before, not even in dreamland. His muscular body on top of mine felt good.