Page 37 of Inflamed By an Incubus

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Long day. Should’ve taken a break from the screen a lot earlier.”

Evelyn gazed at his arms as he knitted his hands together above his knees, his eyes on the sunset as a comfortable silence fell between them, the tension that had filled the air only seconds ago swift to fade.

She shifted her focus to the sunset too, but her gaze strayed back to his forearms and she couldn’t convince herself to look away.

Archer’s head slowly swivelled towards her, his voice a low whisper. “What is it?”

She shook her head, feeling like a fool for wanting to ask him something she already knew the answer to, but her dreams always seemed so real, left her wondering if maybe she had imagined his arms didn’t have markings on them.

He rarely showed them off after all.

Long sleeves had been standard-issue for him from the moment she had met him. It was rare for him to wear short sleeves.

“You’ve been on edge recently… since we brought that incubus in. You can talk to me, Evelyn. I promise I won’t judge you.” He heaved a sigh that stretched his Henley across his back and sat up, resting his hands on his thighs as he twisted towards her. His smile was soft, teasing. “I won’t even judge him. I just want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I—” She sucked down a breath and blew it out, told herself that he wouldn’t think she was crazy if she asked him, if she explained everything. Talking to him about it all would probably make her feel better. She glanced up into his eyes and then back at his forearms. “I’ve been dreaming weird things… and I think they mean something.”

“What kind of weird things? You always tell me you’re not the superstitious type.”

“I’m not.” She shook her head, tilted it back and stared at the sky. It was getting dark now, the temperature dropping as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Soon, the first faint stars would be visible. She focused on the sky, watching for them, using the task to distract her from how stupid this was going to sound. “You don’t have any tattoos, do you?”

She risked a glance at him, sure he would be looking at her as if she had lost her mind.

He looked tense, his shoulders rigid as he stared at her, his expression slowly darkening. “You know I don’t. What’s this all about?”

She shook her head again. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.” He placed his hand on her thigh, the hard edge to his features smoothing to reveal a hint of concern again.

“I dream of fire… and sometimes you’re there… and you have these tattoos on your forearms. Like bands made up of lines and symbols, thinnest near your wrist and thickest near your elbows. Seven of them. And—”

The intensity of his gaze increased with each word that left her lips, his features pinching again, etching his face with darkness that had her wary of him for some reason.

“And?” he prompted, frowning at her now.

She loosed a sigh and pushed the words out. “And your eyes go all-black. Like… totally black. Even the whites.”

He took his hand back and looked as if he wasn’t sure what to say or maybe he wasn’t sure what to make of the way she had seen him in her dream.

She rubbed a hand over her face, dragging it down, and shrugged it off. “It’s probably just that incubus getting to me and putting ideas in my head. He kept telling me you weren’t human and now I’m dreaming of you as a non-human and… It’s probably just stress.”

But it didn’t feel like stress to her.

It had felt real. Right. She glanced at his forearms. It felt as if she had seen him with those markings on his skin and his eyes fathomless black, had witnessed it first-hand but hadn’t remembered it until the dreams had started.

Archer pulled his sleeves up, revealing his toned forearms.

“No markings here.” He flashed them at her, turning them so she could see as much of his skin as possible, and then lifted his left hand and pressed his palm to her forehead. A wealth of concern filled his dark eyes as his brow furrowed. “I think you’re right and it’s stress. Maybe you need to take a couple of days off… or get your mind off this incubus. This all started with him.”

It hadn’t. It had started before she had met him. Or maybe not. She frowned at her knees, trying to seize hold of her smoke-like memories and pull them into focus as a feeling stirred inside her. She had met the incubus before she had gone to the Fifth Realm. She had known him, and some part of her was sure he had been telling her the truth. He had been there at the castle because of her. Her memories of what had come before her close call were a little hazy and elusive, but the more she thought about it, the stronger another feeling inside her grew.

The constant sense that something was wrong with her and the dreams that had her waking in a cold sweat had all started when the demon king had tried to kill her and Archer had saved her.

What was that supposed to mean?

She stared at Archer’s forearms, at unmarked skin. God, maybe he was right and she needed some time off or a visit to the staff shrink. She definitely needed to get her mind off Fenix.

He had put too many ideas in her head and her imagination was running with them, making Archer out to be something other than human.

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