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Sasha pursed her dusty pink lips. Though she was his sister, it was only on their father’s side. They didn’t look much alike. Her skin was a beautiful cool brown, her eyes so dark they were nearly black, with natural hair she kept shaved tight on the sides that spilled in a waterfall of curls from the top.
All incubi were blessed with good looks and more than their fair share of grace, but Sasha could’ve been a dancer, the way she swung around him.
Jasper wasn’t half as impressive.
“You’re not eating enough,” Sasha accused.
Sexual conquest was a point of pride for their kind, but Jasper grew less and less comfortable with the prospect every day. On the news every morning, there were reports of awful people who took without asking, women and men and folks of every sort who suffered because monstrous people thought they had a right to use someone else for their own pleasure. How was that any different from what incubi did to survive? As he’d gotten older, the thrill of the hunt was less appealing. He could understand why Declan avoided it.
If their father caught him not eating, he’d have starved Jasper to prove how much he’d miss it. He might’ve disowned him like he’d done to Declan. But Sasha reached for his hand and squeezed softly.
“Listen, I know it’s not always simple, but we don’tforcethem, Jasper. People come to us. They want to. It’s not like we don’t give them anything back.”
Jasper flinched. Yeah, people came to them, because incubi were magnetic. Humans didn’t have much choice in the matter. He’d learned that lesson all too well when he was in high school. Puberty hit hard—all of the sudden, he had lean abs, people smiled at him in the hallways between classes, and his straight best friend shoved him against the wall under the stairwell and felt him up.
It’d sucked, not because he didn’t want Luke to touch him—he’d wanted that more than anything. But he’d been fifteen. The first time he’d come with anyone, it was grinding through their clothes under the stairwell until they both had wet boxers. And Luke... afterward, Luke hadn’t been able to look at him.
He hadn’t wanted it, and because of what Jasper was, Luke hadn’t been able to help himself.
Jasper’s father found him soon after that. It was a relief, at least, to have his questions answered, but he had never figured out how to balance what he needed with what was right. Increasingly, he was sure that there was no way to be both a demon and a decent person.
“I’m eating plenty,” Jasper promised, squeezing her hand back.
“Did I hear that twinkubus is thirsty?” Malcolm joined them in the kitchen. The three of them, the youngest children of Elrith, shared a top-floor penthouse in one of Lyric’s finest high-rises. Their brother Declan lived across the hall. But they had other siblings—no doubt more than Jasper knew.
“You coming out with us tonight?” Malcolm asked, swinging his arm over Sasha’s shoulder.
Jasper’s mouth went dry. It would be so easy to go out, find someone, and lose himself for a few hours. Guilt would come later, but he was so fucking hungrynow. “I don’t think so,” he rasped. “Is Declan coming?”
Sasha shook her head. No surprise there. Declan rarely went out, but it would’ve been nice to keep company with someone as uncomfortable as Jasper.
Malcolm rolled his eyes. As always, the gray slacks and white button up he wore were immaculately pressed. They were plain, but screamed wealth. No one liked being an incubus quite as much as Malcolm did. He rolled his sleeves up, checked his smartwatch, and shrugged. “Your call, bro, but I’m ready to go. Sasha?”
She gave Jasper an uneasy smile and shrugged. “Girl’s gotta eat, Jas. You sure you don’t want to come?”
Jasper shook his head. He couldn’t talk, or his tongue might betray him. It might be best if he could learn how not to breathe.
Again, she touched his arm, like that would fix all this. “Okay.”
Malcolm turned away, but Sasha hung back, staring at him until Jasper’s grin began to feel stretched and unnatural. Should he say he was fine again?
“Listen, I... have this friend. A witch,” she said softly, digging in her purse for her phone. “She’s got a store, and—I don’t know. I think you should talk to her.”
A moment later, Jasper’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened the contact Sasha had sent him. “Poppy Silverstone?”
“Yeah. I think she can help you.”
“Sasha,” Malcolm called from the entryway. “The party train is leaving. If you’re not on it, you’re on your own.”
Sasha bounced up on her toes and kissed Jasper once on each cheek. “Try and have a good night. Watch something on Netflix. Maybe Declan’s in. Love you.”
“Love you too,” he said, still staring at the contact on his phone’s screen and the address for a store: Silverstone’s Emporium.
Jasper supposed, if breathing was still critical and he couldn’t escape the pheromones everywhere, he’d try anything. When they opened in the morning, he’d go.
Until then, he had a date with his television and a pint of mint chocolate chip—the second best thing to sex.
