Page 10 of Dreaming of the Demon

“I was not doing…what I was doing foryou,”I said stiffly. “I thought you were just a picture—just paint on canvas. I didn’t know you were actuallywatching me!”

“Come on, how could you not know?” he asked, sounding entirely too reasonable. “You woke me with your touch. Didn’t you feel the tingle of magic when you did it? Didn’t you see my eyes following you?”

“No, I didn’t,” I said, lying through my teeth—about the tingling, at least.

In retrospect, I could see that I should have been more concerned about it. But after living in Hidden Hollow for five years, I had more or less gotten used to magic being performed around me all the time. So feeling a tingle when I touched his portrait hadn’t worried me.

I was feeling really stupid about that right now.

“Look,” I said, glaring at him. “I’m sorry if I woke you up somehow—that certainly wasn’t my intention. But I’m going tohave to ask you to leave now. I have no interest in having you fulfill any of my, er, fantasies or anything else. So please just go.”

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m tied to your bloodline.” He shrugged again—a “what can you do?” gesture that made me clench my jaw in irritation.

“What do you mean you’re tied to my bloodline?” I demanded. “Are you saying I inherited you somehow? Inherited aDemon?”

“AnIncubus,” he corrected me. “And yes, that’s exactly what you did—you inherited me.”

“I’m sure my Great Aunt Gertrude never meant for me to haveyou,”I protested. “She just left me your picture—she didn’t know a real-life Demon lived inside it!”

“Incubus.And I think she had her suspicions.” He sounded thoughtful. “I know she was careful never to waken me fully or to set me free. I think she got so thoroughly sick of males during her disastrous marriage that she never wanted one in her life again.”

I had to admit, thatdidsound like Great Aunt Gertrude. But then, why had she saddledmewith the Demonic portrait and its annoying inhabitant?

Annoying but hot,whispered a traitorous little voice in my head as I watched him from the corner of my eye. I couldn’t help admiring the way the firelight shone on the golden-red skin of the Demon’s muscular body. And if that shadow I saw between his legs was any indication, he really might give a Centaur or a Minotaur some serious competition in the size department.

But my perusal hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Admit it—you like what you see. Youwantme to fulfill your deepest fantasy—that’swhy your Great Aunt left me to you,” he rumbled, giving me a half-lidded look that seemed to promise all kinds of erotic acts no other man had ever offered me.

“Are you reading my mind?” I demanded, glaring at him.

“I don’t have to read your mind—your thoughts are clearly written on your lovely face,” he murmured.

Which wasn’t exactly an answer.

“Look, I don’t care why Great Aunt Gertrude left you to me, the fact is I don’twantyou here,” I said impatiently.

“That’s too bad—I can’t leave until I fulfill the terms of the wish your many times great grandmother, Hester Hatch, made centuries ago,” he said firmly. “I am tied to the women of your bloodline—I cannot be free until I give you what you so desperately need.”

“I’m notdesperatefor anyone!” I snapped, offended. “Least of all some gigolo Demon who’s been spying on me from a painting!”

“Please, I’m anIncubus,”he corrected me again.

I threw up my hands in frustration.

“Demon, Incubus—what’s the difference?”

“The difference is, I am several steps above a lowly Demon,” he said, sounding slightly offended. “I am aspecialist. Only a witch with considerable power can summon me.”

“I’m just a Kitchen Witch,” I pointed out. “I make pastries and run a bakery—that’s pretty much it.”

“You may be ‘just a Kitchen Witch’ but you have the whole town in your thrall,” he said, smiling. “They all come flocking to your bakery for your delicious pastries just as they flocked to your birthday party tonight.”

“How do you know that?” I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. “You shouldn’t know any of that if I just woke you up a little while ago.”

“I learned it when I was pleasuring you.” His eyes went half-lidded again. “You’re so sensitive—you reacted beautifully to my touch.”

I could feel my cheeks getting hot with mortification.

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