Page 1 of The Lawgiver's Firebrand
Chapter One
InAD 452, the Blood Coven, led by the warlock known as the Cambion from Wales, divided the world into three realms: Scath, Darque, and Earth. Such was necessary to avert the doom of humankind.
Scath, Present Day
Daire leaned into the firm cushions of the sofa, crossing his legs, fingering the crease in his expensive tan wool Zegna trousers. He savored their feel against his skin. Like every incubus, his flesh was sensitive, responding to decadent textures. It was why he’d worn silk boxers and a blended-fabric, black Tom Ford turtleneck sweater. The touch of luxury was orgasmic to his breed.
After a lengthy session where several important bills passed through the discussion phase, Daire had accompanied fellow lawgivers to the Blood Shed in Covenkirk for a relaxing drink. Significant legislation awaited passage, including his own proposal, which loosened restrictions on interbreed mating. Other bills before the lawgivers addressed farming protection for ylve food producers and an expansion of demon construction licenses.
While his associates discussed policy-making issues over their drinks, Daire’s senses roamed the bar. He inhaled the rampant lust, sensual vitality, andjoie de vivreemanating from the patrons’ lifeforces. The room was a treasure trove of self-indulgence and debauchery. Of course, as an incubus, he could not feed unless he touched skin-to-skin, but he could enjoy the aroma. It was as if an exotic female wearing a luxurious perfume swept by him, their shoulders brushing but no more. He stifled a groan of pleasure, his lids dropping to half-mast.
Lifeforce was an energy that flowed through living things. It absorbed, carried, and exuded desire, gratification, passion, all of which nourished incubi and succubi. They needed only to touch bare skin. Extracting too much could kill the host. Extracting just enough provided sexual delight for the giver and for the taker.
Daire nodded at a comment from Rike, a berserker lawgiver, a giant prick with a high opinion of himself. The male babbled on about Aeternal society on Scath. How it wasn’t what it had been in the old days. Once again, he explained why he refused to support Daire’s bill.
When a nymph waitress delivered their drinks, Daire winked at her. It was expected of his breed, and he was obliging. He eyed her tight, short leather skirt and snug see-through top showing off nipple rings. In the old days, females dressed more modestly. He preferred today.
While she posed in front of him, fist on hip, breasts jutted forward, Daire reached out a hand to stroke her bare thigh. Inviting. Soft. Tasty. Her lifeforce was sweet with a hint of lemon. Delicate.
She lifted her brows. “I’d let you make a full meal of me after I get off my shift, but big party with some satyrs on Elysian Isle later.”
“My loss,” he said, accepting his drink. The Shed brimmed with succulent, tempting females tonight.
Smiling over her shoulder at Daire, she nearly stumbled, walking away.
“Do you understand?” asked Rike, his tone commanding, his eyes flashing with the outrage of the righteous.
“Not really.” Rolling his Demon Scourge whiskey around in his tumbler, Daire admired the amber sheets of liquor clinging to the sides of the glass. He took a sip, leaned his head back, and savored the taste.
After enjoying the smoothness of his drink, he returned to the conversation. “It’s time all restrictions against mixed matings be lifted.”
Sitting beside him, Lawgiver Nerina leaned forward, uncrossing her legs. “I agree. The current mandatory waiting period for the approval of interbreed matings is antiquated. It should be written out of the laws.”
Daire signaled for another whiskey. “The majority of lawgivers disagree.”
“Eventually,” said Nerina. “Change moves slowly.”
Before Rike said something stupid, a rowdy group entered the Blood Shed, drowning out his words, ratcheting up the noise by decibels.
“Scion Firebrands,” explained Viktor, a mated vampire with a son who had just celebrated his Awakening. The rite of passage from youth to adult was purported to be a brutal event in the breed’s life but necessary since it opened their full powers.
The bar-invading Scath warriors could be recognized, if not by their arrogance and swagger, then by the brands on their upper left arms, a Phoenix, the symbol of their might and skill. When called to serve, the mark burned into their flesh. Apparently, the pain was intolerable until they chose. Serve or reject the offer. Those who selected duty became stronger and fiercer, the realm’s undeniable enforcers.
Amid shouts, hoots, and cheers, the lawgivers sat silent, observing the show put on by the arriving warriors. They hoisted a female, carrying her around the Blood Shed, shouting, “Rookie. Rookie.”
Pausing at the bar, the Firebrands allowed her to snag a drink from the bartender before they set her shitkickers on a table and boosted her upright.
The female pivoted, her beer mug held high. Though she dressed bargain basement while Daire shopped designer labels, she moved like waves on the ocean, her body fluid, her hips ebbing and flowing with celebratory dance moves.
Daire tilted his head to the side. She was … attractive. He fought to keep from releasing pheromones, an instinct for an incubus who sees something he wants. Fortunately, Daire was no prepubescent, un-Awakened youth of his breed. He locked down his powerful scent, which would have attracted all nearby females.
The pale Firebrand with rosy cheeks tucked a wild strand of blonde curly hair behind her ear. It hung to the hem of her khaki shorts. Generous breasts pushed out her dark green halter top. She finished off her outfit with combat boots and socks rolled over the tops. A snug gold cuff adorned each upper arm, on one side appearing to hobble the Phoenix. She pulled off sexy and tough at the same time.
Though the female was maybe five-eight to Daire’s six-foot-six, she had shapely, lean muscles. He pictured her legs locked around his thighs as he plundered her body. It was an image he liked.
He shifted in his seat to accommodate an uncooperative erection, a fresh experience for the lawgiver. He was elegant, sophisticated, discreet, and above getting a hard-on for a young violet-eyed witch with questionable style.
Daire preferred his females taller, slimmer, and much better dressed, wearing something slinky with a fabric that whispered across their thighs when they walked. The expensive dress would shush over their skin when he removed it. Their legs would look long and shapely since they would be propped on very high ankle-strapped heels. He favored the shoes left on when he fucked them.
