Page 27 of Snowed In with an Incubus

“Shit,” he slurred. “Sorry.”

He surged up on his elbows, forcing the glow to die down. He had so much energy. He felt like he could run a marathon. She looked like she could pass out right on his bed.

Cold worry doused the satisfied burn inside him. “Are you okay?”

She laughed at the stricken look on his face. “I’m great. Ohhhh man.”

Her head flopped back into the mattress. She shone with sweat, eyes falling shut in exhaustion. Every part of her was trembling.Sam wanted to lick the wetness off her shaking thighs, scrape it off her neck with his teeth—

“I’ll get you some juice,” Sam blurted and fled.

Her eyes were still closed when he came back into the bedroom two minutes later. Sam approached quietly. Then he placed thetray down on the bedside table, and her eyes cracked open. She broke into a grin as she saw the tray.

“Aw,” she said. She poked the bottle of Gatorade he’d balanced on the edge. “Am I recovering from a workout?”

“Kinda,” he said, climbing onto the bed next to her. He’d gotten a little panicked in the kitchen and started grabbing everythingthat Reg used to shove at him after the gym: orange slices, a cup of yogurt, an energy drink to replace electrolytes.

She nudged the yogurt with a giggle. “You’re cute.”

She laughed again. It sounded weirdly distant, and not in a good way. He sniffed, smelling satisfaction and a thick, stingingsadness.

He said the first thing he could think of. “I like your laugh.”

She blinked. The sadness thickened, her eyes growing worryingly wet.

“Wait,” he said. “I mean—I didn’t—”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, it’s not … This was really nice. I’m just being stupid. Breakup stuff, you know? He was so into me, at the start. I’m sure of it. Then he got to knowme, and …”

She trailed off, mouth twisting.

“He’s an asshole,” Sam tried.

“He is,” she replied. “But—I don’t know. Maybe he’s right.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue. Then Jaz reached up, stroking a hand through his hair and touching his horns.

He startled. He hadn’t realized he was still in his incubus form. The wings had felt shockingly normal behind him as he rushedaround the kitchen. Like they’d always been there.

“Sorry,” he said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The wings retreated into his shoulders, his tail slid up into his tailbone,and his horns sucked back into his head. When he opened his eyes, the pink tinge was gone. He almost missed it. She lookedso beautiful in pink.

She watched him curiously. “Did you have a girlfriend who was weird about it?”

“Weird about what?”

She gave him a tired look. “Dude.”

“I didn’t,” he started. He cleared his throat. It was strangely tight. “I mean, they wouldn’t be wrong. It’s a weird condition.”

“It’s not a condition. It’s you.” She traced his forehead, where his horns used to be. “They’re assholes, too. If they made you feel like you had to hideit.”

“Never had the chance,” he admitted. “I never shifted in front of them.”

“But …” She squinted at him. “You have to shift to feed. Right?”

He shrugged. He’d popped his tail a few times during sex, getting a mouthwatering sip of desire before forcing his tail backin and his incubus hunger down. In high school, he’d been making out with a girl at a house party, and she’d pulled away witha shriek to tell him something was moving under his shoulders. He’d never shifted fully, only the hint of a wing or the bulgeof horns. The tiniest taste before he made himself stop. Every time, either the girl hadn’t noticed or she had noticed and it completely killed the mood. His only long-term girlfriend, Sarah, who had broken up with him before his moveto Claw Haven, phrased it pretty well: I totally accept that you’re an incubus. I just don’t want to be reminded of it.

Fine by him. Neither did he.