CHAPTER SIX

BARIQ

 

Bariq concluded his phone calls organizing things for the masquerade and changed into soft sleeping pants. He closed the blackout curtains, slid between crisp, cool sheets, and lay on his back.

What was he thinking? Was he really going to explain that he was an Incubus, and what that meant for him in this world? Why did Mischale affect him like she did? There had to be more to it than her eye color, but thinking in that direction felt like a betrayal.

Still — his palm itched to spank her and watch her flesh pinken. He wanted to see her bound and submitting to his desires.

Stop it.

There would be no sleep with those kinds of thoughts. He had some time to think about tonight later. Right now, he needed sleep, and to dream of being in Lila’s arms. She always settled him. “Help me, my love. I need your guidance more than ever.” Bariq closed his eyes, exhaled a deep breath slowly, and sank into unconsciousness.

“You’re starving, my love.” Lila’s purple-blue eyes were filled with concern and unshed tears. “You haven’t fed since we arrived.”

No! Bariq struggled for wakefulness. This was the wrong dream! But it gripped his mind tight and wouldn’t release him.

“I can’t!” His dream-self shouted. And it was true. No matter how much pleasure he gave Lila, none of her energy came to him anymore.

“Maybe… Maybe another woman —”

“No!” He shoved his hands through his hair. The idea of feeding from anyone other than Lila made him more ill than not feeding at all.

“You have to do something,” Lila pleaded. “It hurts to see you suffering. You’re starving and I can’t do anything to help you.”

Rage boiled over inside him.

Bariq hated this world. Hated the circumstances that had trapped him here. Hated that he was an Incubus who needed to feed. Hated that whatever had happened to him, it made Lila feel like she was less than his entire world and only love.

He paced like a caged animal, a growl building in his chest. His demon was normally under tight control. Now it threatened to slip its leash. There was no making the demon understand even if he went full Incubus, they couldn’t satisfy their cravings in this place.

The Merge had crashed all the Underworlds together, creating portals that sent beings and creatures into worlds they didn’t belong in, with no way to get home.

“My… My love?” The slight quiver in Lila’s voice brought Bariq to a halt. And not only for the fear in her words. For the first time since they’d arrived, a scrap of energy flowed from Lila. His aura snapped at it eagerly, tearing it from the air.

The hunger he’d set aside for so long would be denied no longer. It awakened like a ravening beast. His aura reached out and seized Lila’s.

She screamed. More energy flowed from her. Bariq fought for control. Struggled to rein the Incubus in. The demon brushed him aside. It greedily took in Lila’s terror-tinged energy and sought more.

Lila gazed up at him, her brilliant purple-blue eyes filled with fear, and perhaps disgust. As he watched in horror, the emotions drained from her beautiful eyes, along with the spark that gave them life.

Trapped inside himself, Bariq beat his fists against his prison.

Stop! You’re killing her!

The Incubus, its needs ignored for too long, now ignored him as it fed. Lila’s body slumped. Bariq screamed. The Incubus finally lifted its head. The frenzy over, the demon closed his eyes and sat back, replete for the first time in years. Bariq took back control.

“Lila?”

She gave no response. His wife lay in a crumpled heap on the bed. “My love?” He shook her shoulder even though he knew there was no point. “No! Oh, please, no.” Bariq cradled her body in his arms as he rocked. He willed energy to go from him to her.

Nothing happened. He could only share energy with something that contained life, and Lila’s body no longer did.

“Lila!” Her name tore from his throat in an agonized bellow. “What have I done?”

A woman limned in a golden aura appeared in front of him. Everything about her was gold — her knee-length, unbound hair, her round eyes, her skin, and the hooded cloak she wore.

A Death Witch.

“If you’ve come to take my Lila to heaven, you’re too late.” He’d seen many Underworlds, but no versions of heaven. Surely, though, if the Hells existed, so must the heavens. He longed to believe Lila dwelled in the light of a paradise, knowing joy and no pain, sadness, or regrets.

The witch shook her head. “She has already gone where she was meant to. If you let me, I can tell you how she died.”

Bariq curled his lip in a snarl, his voice an ominous growl. “I know how she died! I killed her.”

She gave him a pitying look that almost replaced his grief with fury. “They’ll want to know for sure.”

They, meaning the vampires in their fortress who thought they owned everything in and around Port Storm.

He sneered. “So they can decide whether or not to put me down like a rabid animal? They should. Let them. I won’t fight.”

“Do you think that’s what your Lila would want for you?”

“No,” he whispered. “She was a kind soul, and would never want anyone to be killed, no matter what happened to her.”

The Death Witch inclined her head. “Well, if you’re right, you’ll have good reason to blame yourself, which you already do, so where’s the harm? But if you’re wrong, don’t you think Lila would want you to know her death wasn’t your fault? Will you let me use my magic? I promise I won’t hurt her, take anything from her, or mark her in any way.”

Bariq couldn’t let Lila go. He held her to his chest, brushed her long hair behind her ear, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You loved her.” The Death Witch gave him another look full of sympathy, which made everything so much worse. 

“I love her still.” As much as Bariq didn’t want to, he nodded his assent for the Death Witch to touch Lila.

The woman closed her eyes and put one palm on Lila’s forehead, her other flat over Lila’s still heart.

Bariq watched, trepidation gnawing at him, unsure which outcome he should hope for. His love was gone either way. Nothing would bring her back. Maybe one of the vampires would kill him in turn and put him out of the misery this Death Wish was determined to prolong.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Lila did not die from what you did. There was a hole in her heart.”

It was fine for the Death Witch to say that, but Lila would still be alive, not have died yet if he hadn’t lost control. Who knew how much time they’d have had left? Even one more day would have been worth going hungry.

The Death Witch’s eerie, too-knowing golden eyes met his. “We can bury her body in the cemetery. It’s a place of pure and ancient magic. You will always be able to feel your Lila there, and she will not decay.”

Bariq nodded. It was more than he deserved, and selfish as it was, he couldn’t let Lila go.

The Death Witch touched his shoulder and Lila’s chest. Her spell transported them to the Port Storm Cemetery. He’d heard of the graveyard, of course, and as an Incubus, could feel the magic. It had always been out of bounds, though. He’d come close to feeding on the power once. It was an endless sea of energy he could eat, and he wouldn’t need to hurt Lila. The magic had sensed him, and dared him to try. There was something in the graveyard magic — something sentient and hungry — that Bariq had known would devour him, not the other way around.

His beloved vanished, and he couldn’t restrain a cry full of everything — grief, anger, denial, devastation, and a bit of betrayal that Lila had left him so easily when he was trying so hard to hold on to her. He felt her near as the Death Witch had said he would. A warm, glowing presence that offered love and a peace he didn’t know how to accept, and didn’t deserve. Bariq stared at the undisturbed surface of the grave, so diametric to the tempest of emotions in his heart. It didn’t seem fair that which had taken what he loved, the woman who had changed everything for him, should be unchanged now that Lila was in its arms rather than his.

Bariq stood, unable to remain still. He wanted to pace. To rage. To dig through the earth and take his Lila back. But he did none of that as his out of control magic located another aura. A man with the mauve hair and eyes of an Incubus not hiding what he was approached across the graveyard. The man was built like a warrior with thick muscles and not a few scars. The sandals that wound up his shins, plate armor on his torso, and leather strips he wore hanging around his hips he wore emphasized his brawn and probable Roman heritage despite the lack of a helmet. He stopped across Lila’s grave from Barq.

“My name is Lucius. I am sorry for your loss. You did well to hold on to yourself for as long as you have. The rest of us didn’t last nearly as long.”

So this Incubus knew who he was, but what did he want? As usual when two Incubi encountered each other, they measured the level of the curse that had changed them from whatever they had been. Lucius had three thousand years. Old, but only a quarter of the time Bariq had.  

“Why?” Bariq whispered, staring at Lila’s grave. “Why were we changed?”

One massive shoulder rolled. “The portals were damaged. They’re made of energy. We are creatures who feed on energy. As far as we can tell, when we passed through the damaged gateways, the corrupted energy changed us. What we became isn’t anyone’s fault. We’ve learned ways to adapt without killing or starving. We can teach you.”

Bariq bolted from sleep to sitting. The dream was always the same, no matter how he wished things had happened differently. He might be forgetting Lila bit by bit when he was awake, but he remembered every detail about her death. Sweaty, Bariq wrestled the tangled sheets from around himself, painfully aware he was hard. He hadn’t awakened with an erection in ages. Groaning, he palmed himself, the sensation shooting sparks of pleasure though his balls and along his spine. It was because of that hothead with the hot body. Her flames still burned inside him. What was she?

His life was perfect until she showed up. He stroked his length, wishing it was Mischale’s hands bringing him relief. Or better yet, her mouth. He released himself and lay back, hands clasped behind his head. What he needed was clarity, and he wasn’t going to get that by thinking of Mischale getting him off. Sighing, he closed his eyes. One night. Would he be satisfied with just one night?

He had to be. There was no place in his life for a woman. Never again. A sharp pain pierced his heart as the image of his beautiful Lila drifted behind his eyelids. It must be loneliness. Incubi weren’t meant to exist alone.

Ignoring that sentiment, and his insistent erection, Bariq rose and headed to the shower. Maybe that would get the mysterious vixen out of his brain. He turned the water on and stood under scalding spray, though what might be better was an icy shower.

Instead, he imagined Mischale’s hot tongue licking him. Bariq shook his head and soaped his body. This would be a long night, if his cock was any indication. Stepping out of the shower, he toweled off and pulled on his clothes. The scent of something delicious, sweet and a bit spicy, wafted through the closed bedroom door. His empty stomach drove him from his rooms. No more hiding. He wanted to know what Mischale had decided. Could he give her what she wanted and confess what he was? She wouldn’t be satisfied with minimal answers.

His heart jumped into his throat as he entered the kitchen. There she was, wearing flannel pajamas and thick socks, with her purple-blue eyes, and a dusting of flour on her cheek. Without thinking, he tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, brushed the flour off her face, and kissed her now clean nose. He went still as he realized what he was doing. What she was letting him do. Bariq blinked, trying to separate memories from the reality standing before him. Lila had loved to cook, and was never neat about it. She always had a smudge of something on her somewhere.

Mischale cleared her throat and stepped back. “I couldn’t sleep, so I made cinnamon rolls. They’re almost ready. Have a seat, and I’ll bring you a plate after I mix the icing.”

Not trusting himself to speak, he took the offered escape and wandered into the living room, always watching Mischale as she opened cabinets and drawers.

 How easy would it be to take her down and feast upon her? Would she struggle? His cock leapt at that thought. Given her reaction at the cemetery, she would fight him.

He found himself moving closer, his feet carrying him back into the kitchen, hands reaching her. She let him touch her, and he cradled her head and neck in his hands. The scent of her skin mingled with the sugar and cinnamon she’d cooked with sent a blazing desire to taste her through him. Her chest heaved, brushing her nipples against him. His cock leapt, begging for her hot core to sheath it.

Drawn to her, he leaned down and kissed her luscious mouth. Groaning, he tilted her head back and lick the seam of her lips, demanding entry. With a soft sigh, she opened to him, and he indulged in the taste of her sweet mouth.

Cinnamon and sugar exploded on his tongue. Delicious. He deepened the kiss, feeling his demon side surge to wakefulness. A piercing, repetitive shriek intruded into his consciousness like a hammer striking his skull. “What the —”

“The cinnamon rolls!” Mischale leapt away from him like a scalded cat and sprinted toward the window, throwing it open. Tendrils of smoke drifted from the oven, which had set off the smoke alarm. She climbed onto a chair, then onto the counter, yanked the contraption off the ceiling, and pulled out a battery to restore blessed silence.

Mischale hopped to the floor and opened the oven, pulling out a round baking tin that she flipped upside-down over a plate. A mass of dough, black on the bottom, popped out in one big circle.

“Maybe I can just cut the bottom part off.” She poked at the overdone rolls with a fork. “With enough frosting, I bet I won’t even taste that they were burned.”

Bariq wanted to smirk. It was something Lily would have said. “Or we can go downstairs and I’ll buy you all the cinnamon rolls you want. I’m sure there’s a bakery.”

The Towers By the Sea had a number of shops and services able to provide a guest with anything they desired.  He could order room service, but given his lack of control, getting out of the room was a good idea, and dovetailed nicely with more of his plan for the night. “Besides, you can’t go to the ball without the proper dress, can you?”

“Kidnappers are the new fairy godmothers?” Mischale mumbled, without looking up from her burned breakfast.

“Something like that.”

“I haven’t said I will go.” She picked up a spoon, stirring a bowl of sugar frosting in a frenzy. “You haven’t told me what you are.”

How simple her request must seem to her. He knew what humans thought of Incubi on this world. The word Incubus could send her running and he’d never see her again. Of course, that was the plan, but only after he got one night with her. How much of the Other World did she know about? Maybe he could lie and say he was something else. The thought of being less than truthful with her made something twist inside him. What he wanted from her, her total submission for the night, required an inviolable trust. Lying to her to start off was wrong on so many levels. How much did he want one night with her?  He could tell her what he was and if she left, so would he.

Bariq took a deep breath, held it, and whispered the answer Mischale needed on an exhale as he met her purple-blue eyes. “I’m an Incubus.” Not wanting to see her horror, or fleeing his presence, Bariq closed his eyes.