Page 32 of Accidentally Vacationed with an Incubus

“Good?” I rasped, my voice strained, betraying just how much restraint it took to keep my thoughts in check. Jenlicked syrup from the corner of her lip and nodded, completely oblivious to the effect she was having on me, and I had to bite back a groan. My voice was a low, seductive roll as I asked, “Any of them make you pancakes?”

You haven’t even made her pancakes, Devlin,I reminded myself.BooDini made these.

“I... er... rewrote that scene we practiced last night,” Jen said, her cheeks flushing in an obvious bid to change the subject. “Thanks for your help. It reads so much better now.”

I straightened, the sudden shift in her demeanor sending a prickle of unease down my spine. I didn’t need my ability to read emotions to tell that she was uncomfortable.

“About that,” I said, a knot forming in my stomach. “I should’ve asked if you were okay with reenacting it first. I think I got... carried away.” I swallowed hard. “I was just so thrown by the fact that my magic doesn’t affect you, I didn’t stop to consider whetheryouwere comfortable with it. I don’t want you to feel like I overstepped,” I added. “If I did, just tell me.”

Brace yourself, Devlin. This is where she tells you it was inappropriate, that if you pull something like that again, you’ll be out on your ass.

To my surprise, Jen said, “Actually, acting it out really helped with my visualization of the scene.”

I felt my lip twitch, a smirk threatening to form. “That’s a relief.”

Her cheeks darkened, and she dropped her gaze, suddenly very interested in her plate of pancakes. Was she thinking about the next scene? Wondering if we’d be acting that one out too? But even with my senses dampened, I could tell she was too embarrassed to talk about it right now.

I leaned back, deciding to steer the conversation somewhere less charged. “So...” I said, voice casual. “You never did explainwhy you can’t use your magic—or why my magic doesn’t affect you.”

There were only a few reasons why a witch would be stripped of her magic. A powerful witch—say the head of a coven—could forcibly sever a witch’s connection to her power. She could also be carrying a hexbane talisman, but those were incredibly rare, and unless she had one tucked away in a pocket, she certainly wasn’t wearing one on her person.

Then there were reptilian shifters. Most had some degree of magic inhibition woven into their abilities. Basilisk shifters, for example, produced a venom highly sought after by healers for its ability to dull magic, to calm, and occasionally hold users in thrall depending on the dose. But a full bite was lethal to all but the strongest, near-immortal beings. A single strand of a gorgon’s hair had the power to break any curse—but a full head of living, writhing serpents would turn even the strongest creature to stone. I doubted she was part of a dragon’s impenetrable hoard—they were almost extinct. In fact, the only dragon I knew of was the one Jasper’s pack protected, and I only knew that by accident.

Jen let out a slow, measured breath. Rising from her chair, she glanced toward the living room, before quietly clicking the kitchen door shut. When she returned to her seat, she pushed her half-finished plate of pancakes aside, her fingers curling into the fabric of her hoodie, twisting it between them.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Look, I should probably tell you something.” She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the table. “The reason I’ve been gone long enough for my cousin to turn my home into a novelty vacation rental is because...”

I leaned forward slightly, instinct tugging at me, my muscles flexing with the urge to reach for her. But instead, I forced myhands to stay where they were. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I wanted to pull her into my arms and take away whatever had her looking so damn haunted.

She’s not yours, I reminded myself.

“If you go into town, you’ll hear about it sooner or later, so I might as well tell you myself.” Jen inhaled deeply, as if bracing for impact. “I’ve been in mortal prison for the last nine years... for criminal negligence.”

I blinked. “Oh,” was all I managed to say.

Her fingers twisted tighter into her hoodie, her knuckles turning white. “The warden was some kind of supernatural—I don’t knowwhat, she never told me—but she had magic that suppressed others’ abilities. That’s why I can’t use mine. It’ll wear off eventually, but until then... I’m hiding out here before I go back to my coven.”

Nine years. That was alongsentence for criminal negligence.

Unless someone had been seriously hurt.

As if sensing my thoughts, she dropped her gaze, her voice quieter now. “I don’t remember why I did it,” she admitted. She glanced at the door, as if making sure it was still firmly closed. “But... I messed with the wiring in my parents’ car. The brakes failed.” She let out a shaky breath. “And they died.”

The air between us went still, thick with something unspoken.

“Jen, I’m so sor—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, cutting through my words before they could take shape. Her hazel eyes shimmered, unshed tears threatening to spill, her bottom lip trembling as she forced herself to keep going. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I deserved my sentence. And more.” She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “Just... please don’t bring it up in front of BooDini. It’s innocentby nature, and I don’t know if it fully understands thatI’mthe reason my parents are never coming back.”

I met her gaze. “I won’t say anything. You have my word.”

Relief flickered across her face, softening the tension in her shoulders. “Good,” she murmured.

Pushing her chair back from the table, she stood, shifting awkwardly as she made her way to the door. “I’m going to, um... spend the day editing up to the next, uh... intimate scene.” Her fingers curled around the doorknob. “We can do your dating thing at, like, seven, and then do my, um... thing after that, if that works?”

I nodded, but before I could respond, she was already gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

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