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"What's your name incubus?" I ask callously, determined to not give into the feelings between us. I feel him flinch at my words but he still doesn't step away from me.
"You haven't yet earned that," he whispers, his hot breath on my neck.
My curiosity at his statement burns inside me. I remember that no one called him by anything but "incubus" or "the creature" the other night.
"And how does one do that?" I ask, despite my best efforts to keep the words from coming.
He chuckles behind me and my body clenches involuntarily from the feeling of his chest brushing against me.
"When I know that it's more," he tells me elusively.
I finally take a step away and feel like I can breathe again.
"What are you doing in my room? I should call the guards." I tell him stiffly, trying to portray my best rendition of an ice queen. I've always been a crap actress and I can see I haven't improved when his earlier chuckle turns into a full out belly laugh that immediately makes me feel warm inside.
"I think that little display of yours earlier tells me that you could kick me out yourself if you really wanted to. That or just kill me," he says wryly. "What I want to know is why the 'forbidden queen' is hiding who she really is and letting that leech walk all over her."
I grimace at how accurate that moniker is of me. He has made me into that.
"I've always loved forbidden things," he whispers into my ear, again so close that my mind begins to imagine all sorts of "forbidden" things we could do.
"What are you doing here?" I ask again, the earlier fight in my voice washed away in the lust I'm currently experiencing.
"I've been left unchained," he tells me in a voice that sounds wholly confused as he continues. "No one was even paying attention to me yesterday morning. I could have walked out the front gates and no one would have even stopped me. I got as far as the front courtyard before I stopped. Inexplicably I couldn't leave. I could feel you calling to me, like a siren luring me to my death." His voice grew angry. "What have you done to me?"
I flinch at his hateful tone, and the truth to his words. I feel like a siren, luring beautiful men with my call, promising them the world and then selfishly dashing them on the rocks. I step away from him and walk to the window, looking out into the distance where I can see a thin line of brown where the plague is slowly making its way into His lands. This land isn't as unaffected as I first thought.
"I've done nothing," I tell him, but it comes out unconvincing. I have no control of my powers, so it very well could have been me unwittingly calling for him.
He grabs my shoulder roughly. Despite his roughness I strangely don't feel like he's capable of ever actually hurting me.
"I have been trapped here for a century. You would not even comprehend the horrors that I've been subjected to. Free me," he begs me, his voice hitching at the end with emotion.
It pulls at my heart, just as Beckham's tears at our last real meeting did, wrenching my heart into more pieces than I thought I still possessed.
"You are free. I've taken your place as the imprisoned creature of the palace," I tell him, turning away from the window and walking away from him, again needing as much space as I can get from him. He takes a deep breath, whether in relief or not I can't tell, and hitches himself on top of the window sill to leave. I immediately feel bereft at the thought of the loss of his presence. He disappears from my view and I idly wonder how he made it into my window in the first place.
I feel listless, and crawl into my bed angry at myself for feeling this way about someone I don't even know. I'm cursing my wayward heart when I feel something getting into bed behind me. I jerk and look at the intruder and find my eyes unwillingly filling with tears at the site of the gorgeous incubus. He looks torn and surprised at the fact that he's sitting on my bed.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. He glares at me. I watch as his eyes slide down my face, stopping on my lips.
"I'm here because you're obviously an evil she-devil who has cast a spell on me, forcing me to be your prisoner," he states sarcastically, his eyes still focused intently on my lips.
"I wonder…"
"What do you wonder?" I ask him, my voice betraying me as lust fills the air.
"I wonder if you taste as good as you look," he whispers, leaning closer and closer to me.
I feel like I'm burning up. I'm slightly shaking with the anticipation of his lips touching mine. All thoughts leave my head at the first brush of his lips against mine. I feel like I'm a live wire that will combust if we go further.
He's looking at me as if I could be both his salvation and his ruin, and at the moment I'm not sure which one I am. I deepen the kiss, latching on to the feeling he's giving me. That I'm actually alive. That I haven't died just because I've lost everything.
We both lose ourselves in each other, hands tearing at our clothes, both trying to touch as much of the other person as possible. It's a game of domination. We're both reluctant to admit how deep our feelings already run. For me, it feels like a betrayal of Beckham. For him, I'm preventing him from his freedom. Still we go on, our tongues and bodies battling for submission.
He catches me off guard when he pulls back, a look of wonder on his face. I notice that his skin looks like it's almost glowing. Like he's had some sort of energy boost that's manifesting itself outwardly.
He strokes my face tenderly. "Do you feel okay?" he asks worriedly.
