by Debra Dunbar
The door opened to a huge foyer with ornate white trim and elegant wood furniture. Off to the right, double–pocket doors showed a room decorated with an eclectic mix of Victorian and modern. Gas light fixtures flanked a small unlit fireplace; leather couches sat on scarlet oriental rugs. The walls were covered with gold brocade wallpaper and dotted with landscape oil paintings.
“Whose house is this?” I was a bit concerned. Irix seemed to make a habit of appropriating things that didn’t belong to him. I didn’t want the angry owners confronting us with breaking and entering charges, or, worse, discover them butchered in a back closet.
“Mine.”
Was he lying, or did he really consider all his stolen goods to be his own? Demons weren’t well known for truthfulness. Before I could question him further, Irix walked toward the back of the foyer and into an enormous, modern kitchen. I followed and watched him pull out wine glasses, and a few other items.
“Follow me.”
He headed back to the foyer and up the sweeping stairs. I hesitated, realizing what he probably had in mind. He could have been a little more erotic than ‘follow me’, but at least he intended to give me a glass of wine first. I took a deep breath to strengthen my resolve and followed him up.
By the time we’d reached the end of the hallway on the third floor, I was confused. We’d passed several serviceable–looking bedrooms. Where the heck was he going? Silent, he handed me the wine glasses then made a smooth leap, catching a little knotted rope hanging from the ceiling. A square pulled free, and as he landed, a wooden ladder unfolded. He took the glasses from my hands and climbed.
I waited a second for him to turn on a light, and when none appeared, I followed him up. Hot, humid air hit me as my head popped up above the attic floor.
“Over here.”
My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I realized Irix was standing in front of a large window. The attic had three sets of dormers, giving the roof added height and allowing faint light from outside into the room. With a twist of his wrist, the window opened outward like a small French door.
“Be careful. There’s a ridge right in front of the opening, to keep the rain from leaking in. Don’t trip.”
Jazz music filled my ears, and the tang of the river surrounded me as I carefully made my way through the opening. The incubus’ hand found mine, and I heard the glasses clink as he led me across the rooftop terrace to a sofa. The lights of the city spread out to the rear. In front of us churned the Mississippi River, only a half block away, illuminated by lights along the shore and the occasional boat. A breeze lifted my hair, and I realized that the temperature up here was about ten degrees less than at street level. After settling me on the sofa, Irix sat down beside me and opened the top of a small stool to reveal a cooler.
“I can turn on the lights if you like, but it detracts from the view.” He opened a bottle of champagne and skillfully poured it into the two glasses, shoving the bottle back into the ice of the cooler before handing me one.
“I like it here in the dark.” I did. It was private somehow, like we were invisible to the world. Just a demon and I, drinking champagne and looking out at the city.
“How did you wind up with a house like this?” I was half afraid to know the answer.
“A friend left it to me when she died. It’s been interesting juggling the title around since she passed away a century ago, but I wanted to keep it. Lots of good memories here.”
“Oh.” So nothing nefarious then, unless he was the one who instigated her ‘passing away’. I didn’t get that from his tone of voice, though.
He turned to face me, putting his drink down. “I thought it a strange coincidence that you chose to run here to escape me, when it’s the only place that I own property. New Orleans is like a second home to me.”
It was odd. If I’d believed in some kind of divine intervention, in fate, then I would have read all sorts of things into this. I didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Or did I?
“Amber, what’s wrong? I show up from Hel thinking I’m just going to help a young half–breed with her skills, and make sure she doesn’t kill anyone in the process. Instead, I find a rebellious succubus who refuses to do anything I ask, and is determined to deny, or kill, a portion of who she is.”
“I don’t want that part of myself. I want to be human, or just a half–elf, but I don’t want anything to do with this monster inside me. She hurts people; she uses them. That’s not me.”
“It is you. There is no this half or that half; there is only you. Once you figure that out, you can stop trying to make yourself into something you’re not.”
There had always been a monster inside me, one who killed the man I’d believed was my father. I thought I’d conquered her, only to have her come roaring to life again a few months ago. But that wasn’t my only problem.
“I’ll never love. Every man I sleep with becomes uninteresting to me the next day. There will never be a relationship, a marriage with children for me, only a string of one–night stands.”
“That’s crap, Amber. You love your brother, your sister, your friend Darci. You love plenty of people. You’re kind, loyal, and caring. So you’ll never have the traditional marriage. How many humans get that anyway? And how many are truly happy with it? Sometimes the life you get isn’t the one you wanted. That doesn’t make what you have any less wonderful, just different.”
I sat in silence, a huge lump in my throat. He couldn’t understand. I’d live for thousands of years, watching my friends and family die. I could never have what they had. At least he had other demons back in Hel — a home he belonged in, people just like him to live his life alongside. I had no one. I wasn’t an elf, wasn’t human, wasn’t a full demon — just a beautiful freak; lonely and scared.
I felt his arm around me, his hand rubbing down my back.
“I won’t give you my energy if you don’t want it. We’ll figure out a way to work the magic on the levees tomorrow without it. There are other covens in the city — maybe you can use their energy in a ritual. If you really hate this part of yourself, then I’m not going to try to force you to accept it.”
He stood up and walked to the edge of the roof, his shoulders slumped. I felt like shit. Once again I’d hurt some guy — this time a two–thousand–year–old demon. I thought back on what Jordan had said, about my demon energy fueling my elf powers. Maybe that’s why the elf in me had always been so silent. I was starving her out too. That part of me I’d always thought was human? Maybe that was the real Amber — the Amber that happened when I stopped thinking of myself as half this and half that, and just was.
My eyes drank in the sight of Irix — the way his shirt strained across the muscles of his back and shoulders, the way his pants hugged his backside. The physical attraction I felt for him at that moment had nothing to do with pheromones, nothing to do with any sex–demon magic. It was more than the simple attraction of a woman for a man. I found him irresistible — all of him. The crooked smile, the faint dimple in his left cheek, the way his eyes became molten gold as they looked at me. He was sexy when he was angry, sexy when he was teasing, sexy when he was gentle and caring. I loved his laugh, his quick humor. I loved his sense of honor, so unexpected in a demon. I loved that he was smart, that he could keep up with me, even best me, when it came to knowledge and intelligence.
I loved him.
“Your fichus is dying.”
Irix turned around and watched as I stood and walked to the row of plants in a tall box. They served as a nice divider between his terrace and the steeper section of the roof, but the normal deep green of the leaves was spotted with brown, the edges curled inward. I could see this even in the dim light — actually feel the imbalance in the plants. My fingers caressed the leaves, following the stems down to touch the soil. Uneven water supply, excess phosphorus, burning of the leaves from midday watering. I felt Irix move to stand behind me, and I inhaled deep to catch his unusual dark–chocolate scent.
The leaves straightened, brown brightening to lush green. Pink flowers burst from the depths of the foliage, unfolding to drink in the night.
“Fire your gardener.” I turned around to face him. “And kiss me.”
He leaned close, tracing my bottom lip. “Here?” he whispered. The finger moved to caress my breast, brushing the raised nipple with the lightest of touches. “Here?” His hand smoothed down my waist and stomach, down my thigh then back up the skirt of my dress to rest between my legs. “Or here? Where should I kiss you, Amber?”
Damn. He was just the sexiest thing I’d ever known.
“All of the above.”
The playboy façade cracked, and for a brief second I saw the complexity beneath the beautiful face. Lighthearted but intense, dangerous but kind, controlled but wildly abandoned.
Irix wrapped an arm around my waist, but instead of pulling me toward him, he pushed, lifting me upward with a hand cupped around my ass. I gasped, feeling the hard concrete of the roof ledge under me, my back pushing the planter, fichus and all, further back. His mouth crashed over mine, his hands moving upward to keep me from plunging backward off the roof. Nothing was keeping the planter in place, though. I felt it shift, felt the sudden absence of it against me, then heard a splintering crash and several yells.
My chest shook, and I giggled against his lips, the strangeness of laughing while being kissed just as amusing as us nearly braining some poor passerby with a potted plant. Irix began to laugh too. He tilted his head, resting his forehead against mine while still holding me tight on the roof ledge.
The danger of it all — being suspended three stories up with only Irix between me and a nasty death on asphalt and concrete. I trusted him, trusted that he wouldn’t let me go.
“You’ve got a lot of kissing to do. Better get cracking there, demon.”
He caught his breath on the exhale, and once again sealed my lips with his. His mouth was just as much of a contradiction as he was — both soft and firm against mine. I opened for him — lips allowing his tongue entry, and legs giving him room to push his thigh through to rub against me.
My hands weren’t occupied, so I got to work, pulling his shirt free from his pants, and yanking the buttons loose one by one. Diving under the silk, I ran my hands over his waist and back, feeling the warmth of his skin. God, he felt good. So damned good. My fingers traced every muscle, felt along each rib, and around to the indent of his center back. But touching wasn’t enough. I wanted more of him than my fingers could ever know.
Breaking off our kiss, I bent my head and ran my tongue along the firm ridge of his collarbone, nipping and licking my way down the muscles of his chest.
“Fuck! Amber, damn it all, I’m going to drop you.”
His skin shivered against my mouth, and I felt his arms grip me tighter, adjusting as I curved my back to go lower.
“Amber. I’m serious. Besides, I’m the one who’s supposed to be kissing here.”
Spoilsport. He did have a point though, I and really didn’t want to test the limits of his demon strength with a long drop at my back. I straightened against him and lifted my mouth to his. One quick, crushing kiss, and then his glorious lips were off to other territory, nibbling along my jaw. He was clearly headed south, although how he was going to accomplish all that other kissing with me arched backwards off a roof was beyond me. Logistics flew right out of my head as he pulled my earlobe between his teeth and whispered his oh–so–indecent intentions.
Images of him licking his way down my body, of my legs over his shoulders, heels against his upper back filled my mind and sent my heart on a wild path. I moved my thigh from between his legs to wrap around his waist, digging a heel into his firm ass. This brought the erection I’d been working on with my leg into optimal position. Right where I wanted it to end up. Later. Much later. After lots and lots of kissing. Anticipation roared through me, and I couldn’t help rubbing myself against him, glorying in the shudder that coursed through him at my motion.
“Sofa.” The one word was guttural, as if he’d had to force it upward from the depths of his body. I murmured agreement, and he yanked me from the ledge, sitting down on the sofa with me on his lap. My dress was up around my waist, giving me a naughty idea. As Irix moved to push me onto my back, I shifted with a quick twist of my hips, bringing him down on the sofa instead.
“And how exactly am I supposed to do my kissing from underneath you?”
His eyes danced with amusement, and my lips, swollen from his attentions, turned up in response.
“Use your imagination. I’m sure you can figure something out.”
Just in case he needed a little inspiration, I lifted the hem of my dress, crossing my arms as I pulled it over my head. With a flick of my wrist it landed half in the open attic window. The cool river air tingled across my skin, tightening my already pebbled nipples. The incubus’ golden gaze snagged on them with hunger.
“Come here,” he commanded.
I was sitting upright on him, my thighs pinning his arms to his side. He could easily free himself, but I think he was enjoying the illusion of weakness.
“Nope.” I rocked against him, feeling his body tense beneath my own. His pants strained with the force of his erection, pushing the zipper against me. The seam of my lacy thong underwear rubbed along my sensitive flesh, enhancing my enjoyment as I ground myself against him. Irix fell into the rhythm, lifting his hips in time to my thrusts. My breathing came hard and fast. I tilted my head backward, feeling the brush of my hair against my naked back. Just a little more… .
“Oh no you don’t.”
Irix slipped his hands free from under my thighs with minimal effort and lifted me against him as he rose to his feet. I wrapped my legs around his waist, protesting in a stream of half–words and curses as he carried me through the open window and down the ladder. I have no idea how the fuck he managed it all. Not once did he stumble, or catch any of my body against the narrow openings. Before I could wonder further, my back was on the softest featherbed I’d ever felt. Irix loomed over me, his eyes stormy, his arms roped with muscles.
“Damn,” I whispered, running my hand down his chest and arching my back to resume that lovely contact that had nearly brought me to climax.
He leaned back and placed a hand firmly on my stomach. “Oh no you don’t. I’m not done kissing you yet.”
“Then hurry the fuck up.”
I pushed my body in vain against the hand that held me still. He scowled, eyes betraying the humor beneath the false anger.
“Language, my dear girl. Language.”
And that was all he said for quite a while as he bent his head to my breasts.
I closed my eyes and just swam in sensation. His soft hair against my skin, his tongue flicking and sucking then moving to nuzzle the underside of my breasts. The fabric of his pants was harsh against the inside of my thighs, and once again I wrapped my legs tight around him. He murmured something into my skin and leaned his weight on me, pushing me deep into the softness of the feather bed. But there was something more than physical occurring between us.
My hands gripped his shoulders, tracing along his muscles and digging in with my short nails. I’d felt something within the two of us align, like a train preparing to couple. His mouth continued its journey, tickling along my ribs and stomach. Unable to reach his shoulders, I tangled my fingers through his hair, marveling at the softness, at the deep scent of sweet and spice that my hands released.
“Take off your pants.” As hot as he was, shirt untucked and sliding half off his shoulders, I really wanted to see him naked. All I had left on was a tiny scrap of lace around my hips. His mostly–dressed state was extremely unfair.
“Not yet.” He moved upright, pulling his hair free from my hands and my legs from around his waist.
Terribly unfair, but I forgot all that the moment his hands gripped my knees, pulling them wide as he bent his head between
my legs.
There was no way I could think straight. All I could do was swim in the sensation of his lips and tongue on the most sensitive portions of my body. I fisted the sheets, and squirmed against his arms, unable to control my body as it desperately tried to maximize contact. Again and again he teased me, flicking and sucking, biting and kissing, spearing me with his tongue. Each time I hovered on the verge of climax only to have it slide away, until I was pleading incoherently.
Finally he took pity on me, using fingers and mouth to drive me to the edge. My body tensed unbearably, every muscle tight and quivering, then I relaxed in abandonment a second before the wave rocked me. It was like a slow–moving jolt of electricity spreading from my sex out to the very tips of my fingers. Waves receding and advancing. Crashing across me then slipping gently out to sea.
I opened my eyes, feeling exposed and vulnerable as my body poured out all my secrets along with my passion. Irix watched me, and his expression was something I’d carry in my memories forever. No matter what tomorrow morning brought, I could always close my eyes, see his face and know this one moment was worth a lifetime of loneliness.
“Amber, I … you are … beautiful.”
What had he meant to say? Something about himself? I didn’t have a chance to ask before he again covered my body with his own. His hands, his mouth, I felt as though he were all over me, deep inside me, although we hadn’t yet joined.
“Pants. Off. Now.” I panted, tugging at his dark brown hair.
“All right. All right.” He laughed, and stood up, performing the most unselfconsciously erotic strip show I’d ever seen. The silk shirt slid from his shoulders onto the floor, and his hands unbuckled the belt, leaving it attached to the pants as he slid them down. Naked underneath. I caught my breath at his beauty. Thick and long, curving upward and begging for my hand. He slid the scrap of lace from my hips, then climbed up on the bed — on his knees and towering over me. Unable to resist, I reached out a finger and traced it along his length, feeling him pulse and jerk as I worked my way slowly forward. Reaching the end, I collected the pearl at the tip of his sex and brought it to my mouth.