Incubus Nights Ch 02

Sam had walked in from calling Hendricks when he had seen Tamara talking with a woman. He didn't recognize her, but he was always expecting new clients.

Most of the time they were older men. They definitely weren't women of this caliber, not in here.

Her blond hair reminded him of home, of sandy beaches and sunshine. She had a face that reminded him of a predator, strong and fierce. Her blue eyes, however, were what pierced him. For a short moment, their eyes met. His heart stopped. He could feel power rolling off of her.

He had lots of experience with the preternatural. He had grown up with an arcane researcher and a succubus, for heaven's sake. Sam had encountered a lot of things in his short time on this planet.

She was a were, a shifter. And she was powerful. Just holding her gaze made him feel like power was pressing down on him, penetrating his mind.

It was a surprise to him that she broke the gaze first. Her eyes roamed over him, in that simple glance that knew he had been sized up, dissected, and filed away for future reference. She turned back, and he felt the weight lift off of him.

He walked over to the counter and grabbed the clipboard that showed the stock of the liquors. He had his phone out, taking notes throughout the night of what they needed to restock. Even as he worked, he could feel her presence. He had to focus on his glamour, a conscious effort when it was usually second nature.

Sam had been born with flecks of gold in his eyes When he lost control of his demon, he was told that the gold overtook everything else. He didn't like the monster's side of him. It meant he worked extra hard with his demon's powers to turn his eyes to a simple green.

He could feel it when the strange woman started to walk by him. It felt like the air pressure in the room surrounded her, built up and flowed around her. Sam tried to ignore it. It was the best he could do, he swore.

He looked around out of the corner of his eye. He could tell she was watching him. It unnerved him deeply, but there wasn't a ton he could do. He watched her get her coat, and watched those long legs as she strutted out of the club.

After she was gone, Tamara's voice was behind him. "Can we talk, Sam?"

Sam turned around from the form he was filling out. They were in a slow night, and there were only a few audience members watching the man onstage. Tamara was standing with her arms crossed, meeting his gaze. She didn't have to look up far to do it, especially in her heels.

"Sure thing, boss, what's going on?" Sam asked.

She merely replied. "We should talk about this in my office."

Sam's mind started to race. What had happened? Was he getting fired? Had he done something? He had to focus himself, take a breath. He could feel his glamour flicker for just a moment, his demon riling up. Flight or fight was a bitch with a demonic side to you.

He followed Tamara back to her office. It wasn't until he was seated back down in front of her desk that he spoke. "Tamara, what the hell is going on?"

"I got an offer today." She said, voice soft. She walked to the desk and sat on the edge. "You saw the woman who came in today?"

"Yeah. Who was she?" Part of him was dying to know more about the strange shifter.

"Her name's Alina Petrov. She's an...investor. She backed me for a lot of the money to start the Blue Room." She paused for a moment before she continued. "She has inquired about you."

"Well, she can go take a long walk off a short pier." He scoffed. "I'm not one of your boys."

"Sam, Sam." She sighed. "Listen, I don't want to force you into anything." She said. "I just want to offer the opportunity."

"Yeah, no." He crossed his arms across his chest and glared at her. "I'm not working for you."

"One hundred thousand dollars." The words shut Sam up. She waited a few seconds. "She's offered one hundred thousand dollars."

Sam had to think about it for a moment. "It's not a matter of price, I-I..." He sighed. He knew the cut of it he would get. He did the books. He had student loans. And it was tempting. "Okay. Theoretically, if I was interested."

"For a first time client with a new person, I set up an appointment before hand." She smiled a little. "I'll give you her number. You'll meet with her, see if she wants to arrange something with you."

"All right." Sam sighed. "Text me her number. I'll call her later."

Tamara's smile could have lit all of New York. "Perfect."

Sam didn't leave work until three that morning. He got home at four.

He rented a small apartment in a building that might have been trendy twenty years ago. Now it was just functional, a loft with a kitchenette and enough space for him to do some light workouts. He tossed his jacket and keys onto his bed before he headed to the fridge. He got a bottle of cider from the fridge and popped the cap. He took a long swig from it before he pulled out his phone.

Staring at him was Alina Petrov's phone number. He waited a long moment, just looking at it. What harm could there be? It would just be a phone call. Maybe a dinner. He would turn it down, and he would go back to normal life.

He took another pull from the drink before he typed in the phone number. He scooped up the phone, and listened to it ring.

There were two, three, four rings before someone picked up. The voice was male, British, and cultured. "May I ask who's calling?" Just like that. Not even a hello.

"My name is Sam Taylor." He replied. "I was given this number to contact Alina Petrov."

There was a slight pause. "Of course. I'll be just a minute. I'll get Miss Petrov."

Silence filled the line after he heard the man set the phone down. Sam took another sip of his cider as he waited, anxiety crawling through him.

After about two minutes, a woman's voice came from the phone. "Hello, Sam."

God, it was like heaven. Her voice was low, husky. She practically purred his name, and it sent shivers through him. He was in such trouble. His hunger scratched at him, eager.

"You must be Alina Petrov." He paused a moment. "Tamara gave me your number."

"Yes, and she did inform me that you are in fact her assistant." She noted. "Hence my rather unusual offer."

"Right. I, uh, I haven't ever been one of Tamara's...stable."

"I see." Alina paused a moment. "I'm still interested." She then added. "I know what you are, Sam."

Color drained from him, even if he was alone. "You, uh, I beg your pardon?"

"I know you're an incubus. Not full-blooded, I'm sure of that. Your glamour's not that powerful." She said it all matter-of-factly. "Is it your mother or your father that you got your demon side from?"

"My mother," Sam said. "She's a succubus."

She made a noise of understanding. "Ah, of course. My offer stands, Sam. I haven't had an incubus in a long time, and I would like to have a night with you. My offer is simple. You have drinks with me on...Wednesday. We will discuss things, and we will get to know each other. If we are both amicable, we will then meet on Friday. We will go on a date, we will go back to my penthouse, and we will fuck. I will pay you and Tamara one-hundred grand."

Sam shook his head. He remembered she couldn't see it. "This is ridiculous. Who pays one hundred thousand dollars for a date? With a guy?"

"Oh, Sam. I'm a woman of varied interests. Real estate, art, sex demons." She laughed softly. It slid across Sam's skin like silk. "However, you don't seem like many I have met. Which interests me as well."

"How am I different?" Sam asked, honestly curious.

"Well," She replied. "Most incubi are incredibly eager to jump into bed with an alpha were-tigress."

Sam made a soft noise of realization. "I was wondering what your animal was."

"You could sense that I was a were?"

"Yeah, your power is very...potent." He explained. "And as for my hesitance, well, I'll discuss that with you on Wednesday."

"Excellent." She said. "Do you have a nice suit, Sam? Not something you wear to work."

Sam thought about it for a second. "Uh, yeah."

"That wasn't very convincing." She seemed to think about this for a moment. "You will get an email from Hannigan, my assistant. He will give you directions to a tailor I prefer, and he'll get you something to wear for our dinner Wednesday. I'll pick you up from your apartment at eight-thirty, and we will have dinner."

"You've got everything planned, don't you?" Sam teased her.

Another chuckle came from Alina. "Sam, I'll be perfectly plain. I like to be in control. I'm a bit of a bitch, and I know what I want." He could practically hear her smiling like a cat with a canary. "Don't worry, Sam, I've got good taste. You'll enjoy the ride."

Wednesday came by in a blur. As it turned out, Alina had sent him to a tailor that had suits that cost more than what he made in a quarter. Apparently, Alina was paying for it all. Well, that was fine by him.

He had dressed in a blue suit, one with a neat cut that profiled his sleek physique well. He felt good in the suit, even if he realized that this was probably the most expensive thing he had ever worn. Or maybe even owned.

The black towncar pulled up at exactly eight-thirty. A man who Sam was guessing was Hannigan stepped out of the driver's seat and opened up the back door for him. "Mister Taylor," His voice confirmed him as the British man on the phone.

Walk into my web, said the spider's driver to the fly. He lowered himself through the door and sat down in the back of the car, and there was Alina right there.

Her blonde hair was swept to one side fashionably, exposing her long neck. Even in the dark her blue eyes stared out at him like little lights. "Hello, Sam." She patted the leather seats. "Do sit down."

He did, and he found himself just looking into her eyes once he was settled. He was sure he could lose himself in them. Power lurked right behind those eyes. "You look great." He whispered.

"You clean up nicely yourself." She said, and she leaned over, close to him. "Very well." She looked back to Hanigan in the front. "O'Dell's, Hanigan."

"Of course, Mistress." He said, and the car started off.

The lights of the city rolled past tinted windows, but Sam wasn't paying attention to them. He was entirely focused on Alina.

"I've got questions," Sam said.

She nodded. "I have some as well." She looked right back at him. "How about we play a game, then? One question, one answer. You ask one, I'll ask one."

Sam started to suspect he was in for more than he first thought. "All right, then. You can go first." She was about to speak, when he added. "Once I've got a drink."

She smiled just a little. "Very well, then. We'll play it your way."

O'Dell's was a fancy bar in a good neighborhood. Hanigan pulled them up, and after Sam got out, he offered his hand to Alina as she slid out. She thanked him, and as they walked to the door to the bar, she slid against his arm, wrapping one of hers around it possessively.

"You're not shy." Sam noted.

She smiled up at him. He had a few inches on her, enough that she had to look up to meet his gaze. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all." He said. "You're, well, not like other women I've met."

He opened the door for her, and she gave a small noise of approval. "We'll talk more when we sit."

The maitre d' nodded to them. He had a thin moustache, and had large Gallic shoulders. "Miss Petrov," He had a deep voice. "You've got the usual table tonight."

"Thank you, Julian." She smiled at the man, and she looked back up to Sam. "Let's get acquainted." She said.

Alina led him to the table. He slid her chair out first, and she pressed against his side like it was entirely natural before she sat. When the waitress came by, Alina knew her immediately. "Carla, an old-fashioned for me. You know how I like it?"

"I'll make sure it's to your specifications." She nodded. "And for your boy tonight?"

"I'll have whiskey. Jameson?"

Carla smiled, her short pageboy cut only accentuating her boyish looks. "Sure thing. Twelve-year?"

It wasn't Sam who answered. "Perfect, Carla." Alina said.

That miffed Sam. He waited until Alina had walked away. "You ordering for me doesn't sit well with me."

She tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sam." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I do spoil my dates, unfortunately." He found himself smiling despite himself. "So, Sam. Let's talk about...business."

"Business." He found himself echoing. "You'll begin, I believe."

"Yes, indeed." Alina's blue eyes pierced into him for a long moment. "Sam, you're an incubus. Why aren't you one of Tamara's boys?"

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I know a were can't sense magic like a vampire can, so I'll explain it." He said. "I'm...I've never fed my demon."

The look on her face was almost worth the entire money she was offering. It was a look of surprise, her pupils widening. It looked entirely inhuman, to the extent her large eyes changed.

"You're kidding me..." She shook her head. "

Bozhei-moi

, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four." He answered. "My demon's been active since I was seventeen."

"Active?" She paused a moment. "Jesus. You said...active."

"You know, that's three questions now. I'll get three back." Sam smiled as he realized he had a small victory. "Yes. Active. I haven't fed the demon. I occasionally sate its desire to feed, with some physical contact."

"You must have..." She paused for a moment. "Phenomenal control. I believe that I didn't offer enough, Mister Taylor. If I had known I was bidding for an incubus's virginity, I would have at least doubled it."

"You got the bargain deal, then." Sam decided that he would ask his first question. "What kind of person pays one hundred grand for an escort?"

She paused as Carla dropped off their drinks. Once Carla was gone, she took her old fashioned, and sipped it. "I'm a very wealthy woman. You can feel my power. With being a were, I have had a long, long life to play markets. I'm a woman of refined tastes."

"And what taste do I fit into?" Sam picked up the Jameson and took a sip. It was damn good whiskey.

Alina's eyes flickered to his, then back to her drink. "How old do I look?"

Sam shrugged. "Thirty, maybe a bit older."

She paused a moment, as if judging him. "You aren't lying. Even one of those white lies men say to make women feel better. How old would you have said if you didn't know I was a were and could tell?"

"Thirty." Sam repeated. "I try not to lie. How does a perpetually thirty woman stay in business with no one asking questions?"

"People are idiots. They assume I've got a great plastic surgeon." She scoffed. "People are so vain. And ignorant. They create lies to explain things they can't."

He nodded. Sam thought about what to ask next. The next question would bring them even. "Have you ever met an incubus before?"

"I have." She nodded. "He was delicious. An Asian man, striking features. I met him in the twenties."

"The nineteen twenties." He said, a statement. He would have phrased it as a question, but he wasn't quite sure still how strict the rules were.

Alina stroked his shoulder with her hand, the thumb caressing bone. "You're very good. You play the game very well."

"I learned from the best."

Sam's face was entirely solemn in that moment. Alina noted that while Sam could fool most humans, microexpressions and scent were something that most humans didn't recognize.

"Who taught you how to play at court?" She asked him. Arcane creatures like them didn't play by human standards. They interacted with each other with a sense of honor, gamesmanship, and half-truths. Debts were counted, victories assessed and remembered.

Sam took another sip from his whiskey before he continued. "Alina, before I talk about this, can I get just a little space? I'd prefer to look at you directly, not craning my neck."

Alina decided that perhaps she was being a bit too physical for the moment. She had expected him to be like the previous incubus she had encountered. But people were their own creatures. She slid out from the booth, and moved to the other side. She could watch his sleek body from just a little further away.

After she sat, he spoke. "In my freshman year of college, I was attending UCLA."

"That is quite a distance from New York. Your accent is native from California, though."

He nodded. "I met a man. His name was Nathaniel Darcy. Or at least, that's what he used publicly. His true name is..." He closed his eyes. "I can't say it. Saying his true name would call him to me. He would hear it." He pulled out his phone. He typed out something. It was a text, just two words. Winter Malady.

"That's a Faerie name." She whispered. "A Faerie in California? I thought they despised cities."

"The lesser, more wild Fae do. I'll call him Mal. Mal was a Sidhe, one of the high fey. They don't appear in society often."

"I have never met one." Alina said. "And I have much more experience than you do."

Sam nodded, and he continued. "He promised me things I wanted. Control over my demon. Ability to move inside the supernatural circles."

"You do seem like quite the courtier." He noted.

"Part of his doing. He taught me the little things. How to properly bow, how to address people. How to be a gentleman. I wasn't strong enough to be a free lord, but as a hanger-on, I could survive."

"So why are you here in New York, Sam?" She asked. "Why are you here and not with him?"

"Mal's price was very high. One day, after tea, he took me to his basement. That was unusual in itself. People don't build basements in California. Earthquakes and all that." He shook his head. "He chained me to a wall. Drew out my demon. And he tortured me with it."

Alina stared at him. She felt like a monster right then and there. This boy had been abused. What had made him special had been turned against him. She wanted to buy him, use him. The beast in her roared. She kept a firm, quiet control over herself, however. "What did he do to you?"

"He forced me to watch him. Him and so many others. I stayed chained to that wall for three days. By the time he took me off the wall, I would have done anything to sate my demon's hunger. I would have fed on lust and fucked whoever I was with until their body was dust beneath me.

"Mal had one last thing for me. He wanted to brand me. Make me his pet, his slave. My demon had no interest in being a Faerie's servant. I escaped. I escaped, and I haven't let my demon have that much reign for the five years since."

Alina just stared at him for a long moment. "Why in God's name did you say yes to my proposal?"

"Honestly?" Sam looked down at his whiskey. He knocked the rest of it back. "I'm not afraid. I'm not hiding from it any more. You offer a unique opportunity. You're an alpha were, from what I can sense. And you would survive a demon's first night free."

Alina nodded. "Very well. That is a good reason." She took a sip from her own drink, then continued. "Sam, I'm not just interested in using you. I like Tamara because she provides quality companionship. If we do this, I will have very strict demands upon you."

He was about to speak, but she cut him off. "Hold on, I'm not finished. The first among those is that you never, ever be anything less than honest with me. If anything I do ever makes you uncomfortable, I need to know. I know that being a survivor means being tough, and telling yourself you'll do anything to survive, but honestly?" She looked into his eyes, and she wanted to lose herself in them. Even if they were glamour, those pale green eyes were still enough to lose herself. "If I will be your first, I'm going to make it the ride of your life. Because more pleasure for you means more pleasure for me. That pesky demon side of yours hasn't met an alpha were before."