Incubus Desires Series

Chapter 2: Distractions

Damon

The s****l energy Damon fed off his new girlfriend last night had been clouded from too much alcohol and weed in her system to sate him completely-nothing like Belinda's, his ex-fiancée. A lifetime ago, or at least it felt that way.

Now, the girl sharing his nights gathered her blonde hair up with a hand and fanned her face with the other. "Let's go back inside your tent. Too bright and hot out here."

He met her gaze. "I'll be there in a minute, Melody."

"It's Melanie," she seethed.

With a reluctant sigh, he shook his head. "Right."

Melanie tugged on the red-cropped top showing off her cleavage. When he glanced at his clipboard, she stomped into the tent. Next time, he needed to be more selective when choosing lovers to join him on these trips. An image of Renee with her nice round figure popped into his mind. No! He couldn't think about her. Couldn't give in to his desires to touch and taste her, no matter how tempting. I am far too dangerous.

A new Bugatti Veyron Grand Vitesse with tinted windows zoomed over the dirt trail in the distance, and Damon shielded his eyes with a hand. The car swerved closer and finally stopped a few feet away, kicking up a plume of dust that prickled over his exposed skin. Edginess danced along his skin, and he gritted his teeth recognizing this unwelcome visitor. Clive. What the hell is he doing here?

His cousin embraced his demon heritage. However, rather than love or s*x, Clive fed on violence and war, reveling in it. Dressed in a Dolce & Gabbana navy suit and dark Gucci sunglasses, Clive climbed out of the passenger side. A few of the women in camp whistled, but Damon shot them a look and they hurried back to their tasks. Renee, though, muttered to herself and he caught the words dust ball and asshole and couldn't stop his grin.

As he sauntered toward Damon, the driver's window lowered and a battered woman, with purple-lined eyes and a cut on her cheek called out, "Should I leave the motor running, sir?"

"Yes, yes, I'll be back shortly," he shouted, not glancing her way. "Much harder to beat women into submission nowadays, not like before women's suffrage. Don't you agree, cousin?"

Damon narrowed his eyes but refused to turn his back on the slime. And kept him from coming any closer into camp and affecting his people. "What do you want?"

"Why a crystal, as do all incubi." Clive dusted off the vest and sleeves of his three-piece suit. "I've heard a rumor that one might be here in Turkey. And then I discover you're here too . . . what are the chances that you're digging for the crystal too?"

"You don't require it." Damon struggled to keep his voice steady. "Not for another sixty years or so."

"Oh, but I do, since we've not had a decent bloody war in ages. Join with me, and we'll be gods to these mortals."

"Never." He curled his hands into fists. Feeding often without restraint, Clive would be the stronger of the two if they fought. Regardless, Damon didn't flinch. "This is my land-go find somewhere else to poke around-I've heard the dessert is a good place to start." He had to get his cousin as far from here as possible.

"And I came all this way to wish my cousin luck and this is how you treat me? Fine. I consent that this ugly spot is yours for the time being." Clive bowed slightly, but Damon knew his cousin was too mischievous for such polite showiness. "You'll need it. Don't be alarmed if you hear of more suicide bombers-my handiwork." As if spotting something delicious, he licked his lips. "Though I might stay with you and these tasty mortals you've gathered for yourself."

Damon followed Clive's line of sight to Renee disappearing into her tent.

A cold sliver of rage cut through Damon, and he shoved Clive back a step. "Go!"

Clive's sly smile resembled what a great white shark might look like if it grinned. "Come now, we always shared our toys."

Until Belinda. Even before then, guilt rode Damon every time. "That was before."

"Right." Clive tapped his finger to his chin in an irritating rhythm. "What was her name again? Beatrice? Barbara?"

"Belinda."

"Whatever. You've grown too attached to these insignificant humans." Clive sauntered back to his car but called out over his shoulder, "Come dig with me in a more luxurious location with more staff."

Damon didn't answer. Rocks and dirt skidded across the ground toward the dig site as Clive's sports car vanished out of sight. Clive was a fool.

Cappadocia's history exhibited more promise of a crystal being there than the hundreds of others he'd dug. Research indicated this was the cradle of civilization. Tens of thousands of years ago, his people's history taught succubae were once priestesses here. Older than even Dax, the eldest incubus Damon knew.

Instead of heading to his tent and dealing with Melanie, he strolled toward Renee's. With Clive this close, the bastard might have fed off her even though Damon noticed no colored wavy lines from Clive's power snaking toward the ground. The ability to allure and draw a female to him could be used from a distance, but he shouldn't be able to feed on her from this distance. Otherwise, Clive could feed if he touched a woman or entered her dreams. So, Renee should be safe. He should check on her, just in case. She was so damn tempting, he forced himself not to engage with her too much.

"Sir?" Travis, the site steward, shuffled up to him.

Normally, Damon only used humans on his digs, but on this site, the gnome's skills might help locate the crystal. Unlike the human lawn accessories, gnomes were taller than dwarves were, but shorter than most humans. They lived in the interior of the earth and believed they were the guardians of Earth's treasures. Any human saw Travis as a young man with dark eyes. Nothing unusual. Though, in truth he was an old, balding man with huge black eyes.

Did Travis have information about the crystal? "Anything yet?" Damon paid twice the fee for the gnome.

"No." Travis turned back to the cluster of tents, and Damon followed. "But I think Renee is sick."

Dread coiled in his stomach. Not another one. s**t! I brought Mindy er, Melinda, to curb my appetite. Had he fed on Renee's energy? "A fever?" Maybe he had less time to locate the crystal than he thought if he siphoned energy he wasn't conscious of to survive.

The gnome scratched his bald head and paled. "I don't think so. She looked at me like she saw through my glamour."

"Impossible." Come to think of it, when he scolded her about breaking ground before him, she had looked at Damon strangely too, as though she fought between reality and sleepwalking. Her brown eyes blinked unevenly, and her gaze appeared unfocused.

With the back of his hand, Travis mopped the sweat off his forehead. "You told me to let you know about anything weird."

If anything happened to Renee or any of the other women because of Clive. He tore past Travis.

"Renee?" When she didn't answer, Damon crept into her tent. "Renee?"

Unmoving, she was face down in the dirt beside her cot. His heart raced as he bent and rolled her over. No, not Renee! He pushed back her dark curly hair, and when she let out a sigh, the tension in him eased. Her skin burned.

He scooped up her limp body and lay her on her cot. Still, she didn't stir. He glanced around for something to use as a cloth. A heap of clothes were piled on the floor, spilled out of her pack, and resting at the foot of her cot. What is clean? No time. He ripped off his shirt; he'd only worn it for a few hours, and Incubi didn't sweat. He used her canteen to wet the soft cotton edge, then wiped her forehead.

"Ugh, get off me!" She swatted the cloth away.

"You've got a fever."

She glared at him, but by the pink of her cheeks and glossy eyes, he doubted she'd remember his attempts to aid her come morning.

"Let me help you." He placed the canteen near her mouth and tipped it back as he raised her head. "Drink."

Several times she choked, but he managed to get water down her throat. He alternated giving her sips and dousing his shirt to wipe her face and neck. When he went to lift her shirt and lay the cool cloth against her stomach, she shoved his hands away.

"N-not in this-s lifetime." Her voice sounded groggy, like a mix between a drunk and someone talking in their sleep.

He chuckled and reluctantly eased her shirt back. "Alright. Did you eat something bad? Something to make you pass out?" Please let the threat be gone, and not me involuntarily feeding on her.

"You're delusional. I didn't faint."

"How do you explain the dust in your hair?" Even though ready for her denial, he hadn't come here to argue. Was her fainting fever not caused by him? "Regardless, have another drink."

Suspicion filled her eyes at the damp shirt in his hands. "What's that?"

"For the fever."

"Thank you," she choked. "But I'm fine-just need rest. You can leave now."

"I will, after your fever breaks." He pressed the shirt once more to her skin, but soon he wrung it out because the heat of her body warmed it and added more water to cool it.

When Travis poked his head inside, Damon barked, "Bring me the first aid kit."

A few minutes later, Travis lurched in carrying the supply box. "Will she be okay?"

"I don't know." He snatched the kit, irritated that Travis hovered nearby.

After taking out fever medicine, Damon coaxed Renee to drink it with water, but she wouldn't open her mouth and was barely conscious again. He crushed the pill into a powder and added it to her water. Even though he knew it would be bitter, he made her swallow to help reduce her fever. Then he gave her small sips until the cup of water emptied. When he glanced up to ask Travis for more water, the gnome had already disappeared.

Renee's teeth chattered, and she shook. Damon pulled up her shirt, and this time she didn't flinch as he placed his wet T-shirt against her stomach. The cloth heated quickly, and he doused it again and again until the canteen was empty.

Even though the bright pink of her cheeks had lessened, she still burned with fever. The last of the water gone, he whispered to the goddess for a cooling breeze and opened Renee's tent flaps to allow in the late morning air.

"Is everything okay?" asked a woman, Mary if he remembered correctly, who smelled of wood smoke and cigarettes. "Why is your shirt off?"

"Yes. Renee's not feeling well, but I'm sure she'll be fine in a bit." He sent a sliver of pleasure into her to keep her from questioning further.

She blinked. Then smoothed her hair down. "Renee, huh?"

"Excuse me." He exited the tent and took a step toward his own to fetch more water.

"I can help." She shuffled to Renee's tent.

"No, no. It's okay, I'm getting her more water." Even if Renee's illness wasn't caused by him or Clive, Damon sought a way to help. Needed to know she was okay.

He sent a thrill of magic to Mary, making her believe what he said, and that nothing was wrong with Renee. "You don't need to check on her," he whispered in her mind.

The woman shook her head but wandered away.

When she was gone, he dashed to his tent. At least Melanie wasn't there to berate him. Frankly, he didn't care where she was. What if he couldn't get Renee's fever lowered? Lava filled his gut as he returned to her with a water bottle and repeated the procedure of giving her water and cooling her skin.

Finally, her chills ceased, and her breathing evened.

When she no longer moaned and thrashed at the cool, wet T-shirt against her skin, he felt her forehead, and then her cheek. Her temperature was warm, but not scalding as before. Reaching into her mind, he debated wiping the memory of him coming into her tent, because she might ask him too many questions about it. Or why he didn't send one of the other women to help her. He assumed she wouldn't remember, but he couldn't take any chances on what she'd recall or not. Still, he erased the last few hours bitterly, all too aware that tampering with memories too often eliminated a piece of the person's soul.

Even in her sleep, this woman fascinated him. Her dark curls, pale skin-soft and inviting. Her intellect and demeanor made him want to know more about her. And so far, she was proving to be the best shovelbum he'd employed. Before, he never tried to develop a relationship with his lovers. They were only empty lays. Besides their bodies, he'd never encountered a compatible mind and soul. Until Belinda, and it got her killed. His attraction to Renee was too risky, and he must stay away before he fell hard and fast for her.

He left her to sleep. Every hour he checked on her. Not wanting to face Melanie, he meandered through camp. The night was cold and a soft drizzle mirroring his mood fell. Huddled under one of the tent's awnings stood two figures, and he thought he'd backtrack in order not to have to answer questions.

"How's Renee?" Gary asked, making Damon stiffen.

The human had shown too much curiosity in Renee during their meal last night. Talking to her and even eliciting some laughs from her that had made Damon long to be the one who made her smile, made her happy. He shook his head.

"She's fine. Only a headache." When Gary took a step toward Renee's tent, Damon blocked him. "She needs rest, not visitors."

Gary frowned, took a deep breath, but finally nodded and stepped back. The sprinkling rain stopped, and Sarah tossed several pieces of kindling onto the fire, then spotted the men under the tent's awning.

"Think she'll eat a bite?" asked Sarah.

"I'll take her some instant soup I have in my pack," Damon answered. Would his team show as much concern for him if he had a fever? It can't be very late. Had time passed quickly while I cared for Renee? As if in answer, the sun dipped low under ginger and rosy clouds despite his thoughts.

Tomorrow morning, he would take Renee's canteen and refill it at the nearby river. Now exhaustion and a desire to feed coursed through him. At first, he had worried about hurting Melanie, like he did every female since Belinda, but Melanie's polluted s****l energy brought the taste of bile into his throat.

Even though it would be easy to take from Renee in her condition, he would not endanger her-no matter how tempting. She wasn't an athlete like Belinda who had died from his power when they made love and he'd gotten careless. He punched his leg at the painful memory that tore at his soul. They'd been careful, but one slip and she was gone. How much Renee would be able to handle was not a question he required an answer to. If he guessed wrong, she'd die.

Spotting Travis in the distance, Damon quickened his pace to the gnome as eagerness zigged through him. "Well?" Obtaining a crystal was everything-his only salvation not to become like Clive.

"Soon." Travis glanced around nervously. "I'm sure we'll find it any day now."

"But you're certain a crystal is here and not something else you're detecting?" He grabbed Travis' shirt. "You assured me you sensed it in the ground at this ancient temple."

"Yes, yes." He slid off Damon's hands. "It is here, but I can't pinpoint the exact location. The crystal's vibration leaves a residual haze for over a mile. Unless someone has claimed it."

Fuck! He couldn't go much longer on polluted s****l energy or only feeding on a fraction, so he harmed no one. If he didn't find a crystal, he'd be dead from his slow, forced starvation before the end of summer.