Incubus Makes Three by Tiffany Dawn

Incubus Makes Three by Tiffany Dawn

Incubus Makes Three

by Tiffany Dawn

Siren-Bookstrand

Ebook ISBN: B017S0ZKGS

[ Demon Romance, MMF ]

Dorian Black is a nine-hundred-year-old Incubus. He is all set to earn a soul of his own at long last when he falls for not one but two mortals. Give up his chance for what he’s worked so long for or enjoy one short lifetime with the couple he loves?

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Chapter One


The woman moaned low in her throat, ecstasy pulsing through her veins with each thrust of Dorian’s well-formed cock. He circled his hips to grind against her pubic bone, and she let out another keening cry. She was coming in gasping waves. He could feel her contractions pulsing as her juices dribbled out. He slammed into her warm sheath one more time before sliding out of her soft body.

His work was done. She was just as ruined by him as if she had sold her soul to the devil. He had introduced her to sexual depravity so intense that she would never find such release with anyone else, and he would never be with her again. What could he say? He was a natural born fucker.

Dorian left her on the bed still trying to recover and went over to gather his clothing from the dresser top. He strode confidently into the bathroom, not at all fatigued by the intense bout of sex. He ran the shower until the water was steaming hot and then stepped in to quickly wash her scent and touch from him. He had desired her but did not care for her. Another victory for the demon realm, another notch he could check off toward his freedom. Fuck her—she’d be fine, perhaps better without her dark bits.

Dorian guiltily thought back over the couple of weeks he had been seducing her nightly. Some of it had been enjoyable, but she was a duty, not someone he chose for his own purposes. He shook it off. Then again, neither was his upcoming assignment, Gabriel.

Gabriel was beautifully conflicted. A man sinning but not out of innate evil—only sin born out of confusion and desperation. He did not enjoy consuming those who could be redeemed. Dorian rolled his eyes, frustrated by his traitorous thoughts. He was too close to emancipation to let pity derail him. Until he earned his release from the curse of service, he remained chained to duty—as he had for hundreds of years. Just one more job. He could almost taste his freedom.

He flicked a spider hanging from a line of web and watched the small creature circle down the drain with his soapy water. Focus on the job.

Dorian turned off the water and roughly toweled himself drying his dark wavy hair. He returned to the bedroom where the woman was still breathing deeply, her eyes shut. A slight smile formed on her gently parted lips. It was time to feed and that meant he could drop his façade and let her have a first and last glimpse of his true visage. With a little shake, his corporeal form changed. He morphed from an attractive gray-eyed man of about thirty to a demon. Once exposed in his natural state, he waited for the woman to open her eyes and gaze upon his soulless black ones. She let her eyes flutter open as if she knew he wanted her to see him.

He couldn’t use mind control, but he could do other special things. She blinked her vision clear before letting out a blood-curdling shriek. He sprawled onto the bed, moving closer, allowing her to get a really good look at him. She pushed away from him. Her head slammed against the leather-covered headboard in panic. He smiled widely, his sharp fangs flashing white in the faded light of the room. She caught her breath and started to push against his hairless, cold hard chest.

His dropped fangs could pierce the layer of dark energy people had and suck it out. He wouldn’t break the skin, just the ethereal band that surrounded the human body and housed the mortal soul. It was when he moved in to feed that his victims finally saw him as a reflection of their own evil in living form. In reality, as a demon, he had no certain shape. This one certain law was his Achilles’ heel. Humans had substance. They had souls and bodies and existed only in one realm. He was a pawn trapped between worlds.

With a quick pull, he absorbed what he needed from her.

“What are you?” she stammered, shock etched across her pale face.

“I’m an incubus,” he calmly replied, rolling back on his heels and giving her some more room. He didn’t worry about her running. She was in no condition to do so. Even if she did scurry away, he could easily overpower her.

“What? What do you want from me?” Her face drooped as she realized the significance of what was happening.

“Just the blackest part of your human soul. You’ll be a better person without such evil, and my masters have a use for energy.”

She let out a defeated wail; tears flowed down her cheeks. “Please don’t kill me. Please.” Her voice choked on a sob.

It was always the same at the end. Dorian would eventually get bored of preying upon the carnal desires of dark-souled mortals and want to end things and feed. He would allow them to see him without the mask. The humans could only see him as a reflection of their own malfeasant consciousness, so the sight was always horrific yet unique for each one. He enjoyed the shock, disgust, and finally terror that this image evoked. It was what he deserved as such an abomination of humanity. He sometimes resembled a statue of David come alive, hard as marble, pale as chalk, and eyes that were all black with no white to offset the pupil. Other victims saw him as a scaly-skinned monster with deformed facial features and long tangled black hair. It was a bit different for everyone depending on what they had inside them. Fortunately, he saw himself as the attractive man he projected. Mayhap that meant he liked himself and there was some goodness in him after all.

He looked back over at the sobbing woman. She was curled up in a fetal position, failing to make herself invisible. He sighed and allowed his human form to once again take shape. No sense making her fit for Bedlam. He walked over to her and gently placed his palm on her forehead. He let just a little of his energy flow into her brain and whispered the words that would wipe her memory of him. He had already absorbed her darkness and fed from her energy. Now it was time to leave her to an empty fate. Okay, that was a bit melodramatic but he still smirked. When he pulled his hand away, she drifted into a deep sleep. She would soon wake unable to recall ever setting eyes on him. His work with her was done. She would never take the life savings of another naïve retiree with her Ponzi-like schemes.

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