Page 17 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
He materializes beside me, the fire in the hearth silhouetting his dark frame. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Then stop doing that,” I grouse, pressing a hand to my head as if it’ll stop the ache.
“Doing what?” he asks, no hint of a smile in his voice.
“Speaking without being in my line of sight,” I say.
“As you command.”
He holds out his hand and a crystal cup full of water materializes in his palm. “I have limited magic left, but enough to heal you, if you’d like.”
“How did you do that?” I ask, reaching for the water.
“Do what?”
“Manifest this,” I say, taking the cup. It’s smooth, heavy, and ice cold.
“The water is snowmelt, not from the sulfuric aquifer, and the vessel is crystals from the mountain I’ve summoned to take the shape I wish.”
I take a tentative sip and then devolve into a guzzling monster. It’s crisp and clean, soothing the heat in my throat.
“Would you like me to mend your wounds?” he asks.
If he can heal me with magic better than what a doctor can manage, why shouldn’t I take him up on it?
“Is it going to hurt?” I ask.
“Some. I’ll need to push my magic into your body.”
I glare at him. “Are you trying to trick me into bonding again?”
He smiles. “No. It will hurt because we’re not bonded. Your body’s natural defenses may try to stop me.”
I come up to my knees, and pain flares through my tailbone up my spine. “Fucking ass!” I suck a sharp breath through my teeth and fall back to the bedding.
“Let me heal you,” the incubus says, coming closer to kneel beside me.
I wince my eyes shut, willing the pain to go away. It doesn’t.
“Ah, hell,” I mumble. “Yes, please. Heal me.”
His hands are on me instantly and I jump.
“I have you,” he says and my eyes snap open, locking on his. He’s too beautiful to be real. And he’s also still very naked.
“Don’t you have clothes?” I ask.
His hands slide over my shoulders down to my hips. “I could manifest some if my naked form is displeasing.”
“It’s notdispleasing.It’s distracting,” I say.
He makes a pleasurable sound as he reaches my thighs. “I’ll need to apply pressure to the affected area.”
“You mean my ass,” I say, rolling onto my stomach.
“If that’s what you want to call it.” His hands press against my cheeks and pain spears into my spine.
I groan. “Are you healing or talking?”
