Page 1 of Incubus

1

Lilah

I hammered backanother shot and regarded the crowd of Red-Handed. Darkly kohled lids hid the depths of my eyes as I searched the crowd. Slamming the empty glass on the bar, I let the jarring sensation rush through my wrist. That wasn’t the only thing I felt—someone was watching my every move. I turned to find a witch standing just to my left, frozen in mid-order.

The patron eyed the silver runes that slithered up the side of my neck. The ancient design was a warning that foretold retribution to anyone who crossed me. Unfortunately, the pang in my breast reminded me the mark was now only for show. But the blonde with the curious gaze didn’t know that. I glanced at the witch and gave her a look that would have made even a fire demon retreat. Blondie took the hint, curiosity turning to fear as she hastily backed away, knocking over her glass and almost landing on her ass. Her hooker heels sought and just barely found purchase on the slick dance floor.

Once the momentary amusement was gone, I crooked a finger at the surly bartender for another shot before beginning my vigil again. I put my back to the bar, felt the fresh drink bump into my elbow, and let my senses reach out into the room. Hunting, as I had been trained to do so many years ago. Two fey by the door, one on the balcony above, a wolf—in human form—maneuvering through the crowd. No doubt he was looking for a quick lay. That last part wasn’t fair. Not all wolves were like Farrow. Besides, he was more like a snake, not a wolf. I pushed that thought out of my mind and continued doing an inventory. Vamp in the corner enjoying a brunette snack. Goblins, glamored to look like gorgeous girls, scantily clad and dancing for all they were worth. But no Roth de Lis.

Fuck. This was my third visit to Red-Handed in as many days, but my target still hadn’t shown. Not that I was about to stop looking for him. Time wasn’t on my side, and I needed Roth like Narcissus needed a mirror.

I had it on good authority this was one of his regular haunts. For the immortal life of me, I couldn’t see why. The clientele was a mix of lower Underworld beings and mortals who smelled of cheap liquor and sex. From what I’d gleaned about Roth from my sources, he wasn’t the sort to mingle with peasant Underworlders and definitely not with humans. Expiration dates were a big turnoff to most immortals, especially ones who’d been around as long as Roth.

But my intel was good, so I would keep looking. I adjusted my black leather skirt that was the size of a postage stamp. My crimson bustier barely kept my nipples in check, and my black hair flowed down my back in a silky waterfall. I was exposed to a degree that would have horrified me in the old days, but it was a necessary evil. I was a lure, hoping to hook my prey.

Whisking my hair off my bare shoulders, I made sure to arch my back the slightest bit as I leaned against the bar. More flies with honey, I reminded myself.

The hunt was a precarious one, filled with distraction and pitfalls. The frenetic beat of the music did nothing for my instincts, dulling them and putting me into a sensory stupor. Too much movement on the dance floor, where half-naked partyers crushed into a mass in a haze of drugs, alcohol, and lust kept me from focusing on any one target. Beings flitted into my field of vision, then melded back into the writhing bodies, all kissing, licking, biting, and grinding against one another in an uncoordinated orgy of sensation. And clothing seemed to be optional.

The one thing that helped was the dark. Even in the shadowy club, with every surface painted black and strobe lights flashing the heaving masses, I could still see just fine. The problem was, I wasn’t seeing what I wanted and hadn’t been for quite some time. Tick tock.

After another hour of shots and no luck with my errand, I deftly hopped down from the bar stool, slid some euros to the bartender, and headed for the door. The delicious promise of being free in the night air sped my steps. I skirted the edge of the crowd, loathing the thought of getting entangled with the mob, and instead sought the stillness of the Paris night.

I didn’t get far.

“Hey, sexy. Let’s dance.” The wolf I’d scanned earlier had beelined for me the minute I rose from the bar. Now he grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the dance floor. Prick.

“No.” My voice was lost in the pounding music as I tried to rip my wrist from his grip. He continued pulling, and my efforts were no match for a wolf. I no longer had the strength of one of Artemis’s warrior maidens, and wolves were notoriously powerful even when in their human form. “Let me go.” I tried again, but to no avail. He easily manhandled my petite frame when, not that long ago, I’d be stomping him into the floor. Shame, thy name is Lilah.

“Just one dance. I saw you over there at the bar. You look like you need a good seeing to. I’m just the wolf to give it to you.” His fangs flashed. He wore a tight black muscle shirt with dark jeans and walked with an arrogance that left a foul taste in my mouth. He knew he looked good. That only made me want to hurt him more. I toyed with the idea of knifing him in the side and slipping into the crowd, but I couldn’t risk it. I would need to come back here if I wanted a chance of spotting my quarry. So I left my blade in its sheath … for the time being.

He pulled me to the back of the dance floor and cornered me with his palms against the wall on either side of my head. His irises flashed a vivid yellow as he leered at my curves before licking his lips.

“I’m on my way out.”

Shaking his head, he leaned closer. “Not until I say so.”

“Fuck off, you overgrown lapdog.”

“Feisty.” He grinned and tried to kiss me.

I turned my head away. I might not gut him in front of all these witnesses, but I wasn’t going to be his little bitch, either.

“Why are you being a tease?” The brute grabbed my chin and roughly pulled my head back around. “Just give me a little taste.”

I twisted away once more and tried to push past him. He slammed me up against the wall, pressing his body into mine to hold me in place. My palm warmed, anticipating the hilt of my blade.

“Get off me before I neuter you.”

He smirked and ran a hand over the flesh at the top of my corset.

“Don’t touch the goods!” I slapped him hard across the jaw.

He barely flinched. The moon must have been near full, his power at peak levels. Before I could strike him again, he caught my hand and pinned it to the wall. A stinging pain erupted as his palm tightened like a vise around my wrist. He squeezed harder, no doubt enjoying the damage he was inflicting. I tilted my chin and looked into his animal eyes, refusing to be intimidated. Even when the small bones of my wrist scraped against each other, I wouldn’t cry out. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I did what would wound an asshole like him the most. I laughed at him, the ridicule pouring out of me. “That all you got, poor wittle puppy?”

“I’m getting tired of your smart mouth.” His fangs lengthened, and the enjoyment faded from his face, replaced with ire. His hand came like a rocket, smashing into the side of my face and making my ears ring. What. The. Hell? The son of a bitch had just pimp slapped me. I would make him pay for that. With interest.

I refocused my gaze on his, blue meeting yellow in the flashing strobe lights. He was smiling, clearly feeling like he was back in control.

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