Enslaved by the Incubus (The Incubus Chronicles)

The Incubus
Chronicles #1

ENSLAVED by the
Incubus

by Fiona

© 2014

The Incubus
Chronicles are short excursions into Heaven by way of Hell. The
Incubi
were created to feed on human
females and, having excellent taste, they do not discriminate. They want what
they want. Any woman may be chosen, at any time. You may be next.

Tonight’s
Heroine:

Amy

Something needs to happen. Now.

Amy was rapidly
losing her mind. It had been two years since the divorce.

During that time she’d been with a
lawyer, a banker, and a twenty-something boy toy. Only the last one had been
worth the time invested and even he had fallen short of her modest expectations.
They were all caught up in themselves, immature, insincere and wholly
inadequate.

Fuck men,
she thought. She didn’t need
them. Other than to satisfy the constant ache between her thighs.

I am my own worst enemy.

It was a Thursday
morning in March. The kids were at school, she wasn’t due to cover at the
hospital until Monday, and there was nothing to do but shop for a week’s
groceries. A Sunday afternoon trip to the store would have been preferable. It
was a mad house on Sunday and all the fresh produce was always gone, but that’s
when the college boys came out to do their week’s shopping for frozen pizza, pretzels,
canned ravioli, and beer. If she was lucky there would at least be some eye
candy. On a Thursday morning, eye candy wasn’t going to be had.

Amy sighed.

Inside the store Amy
walked up and down the aisles like a zombie, bored, completely without emotion.
She was buying the same things to cook the same dinners to live the same week.
Again.

At last she encountered
some variety: they were out of her shampoo. Well, not quite. It seemed there
was only one bottle left, hidden away toward the back of the top shelf. If she
stood far enough back she could see it, but she wasn’t going to be able to
reach it. Amy wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall, either. So she looked for
someone to help, only to see that there was no one around. Anywhere.

“Really?” she
asked, aloud.

There was nothing
to do but climb for it. Amy tested the lowest shelf and when it held her, she
started climbing. She reached the top with relative ease and seized the bottle.
Then she immediately fell backwards.

Please just be embarrassing and not painful…

But she didn’t
crash. A pair of firm, strong hands like she’d never felt caught her by the
waist. She landed safely with her back against a solid male chest that felt
like it was made of steel.
Warm
steel.
And his scent
…it was heavenly.
A moment later and Amy’s unseen hero had lowered her gently to the ground. She
turned to see a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, Mediterranean male smiling at
her. Was he Spanish? Italian? Whatever he was, he was
perfect.…

 
“Thanks,” Amy said quickly, trying to
hide her disappointment at being released.

“Anytime.”

His eyes looked
into her. His smile was warm, sexy and captivating. It was as if he knew what
he was doing to her and he was quite experienced at it.

Then he was gone.

As quickly as he
had appeared, he was on his way, gone from the aisle. Amy was left with her
head spinning, wondering whether her precious encounter had even happened.
Somehow she had to finish shopping. Oh, well – that one little incident
would leave her high for the remainder of the day, or maybe the rest of the
week. She could always go into cougar mode, get one the college boys here over
the weekend and take every ounce of this morning’s desire out on him. Barring
that it would be some toys or her fingers, and those were never bad options since
they came without the maintenance men required.

Twenty minutes
later Amy had made it back to the parking lot. She was placing a bag inside the
hatch of her crossover when the bottom ripped out, sending groceries under the
car and across the parking lot.

“Shit!”

“Let me help,”
said a voice nearby. She wasn’t sure where it had come from.

It was
him
.

Now he was
crouching down beside her, handing her the same bottle of shampoo she had gone
climbing for when she fell.

“Uh…”

“Hello again,” he
said, ignoring her nerves and in complete control of the situation. He helped
her up and began placing things back in her car.

“Hi,” Amy managed.
“Thank you. You must think I’m a mess.”

“Not at all.
Selfishly, I’m enjoying it. Any excuse to help out a beautiful woman is good
thing.”

She blushed and
dropped her gaze, but only for a moment. She was enthralled and couldn’t
pretend otherwise.

“Are you always
this straight forward?”

“Yes,” was all he
said.

That’s when it
happened. He leaned forward and kissed her, deeply, longingly, in the middle of
the parking lot. He made it seem completely normal, as if to say,
what else would we be doing in a grocery
store parking lot at 10 A.M. on a Thursday morning
?

‘Thank you,” he
said when it ended all too soon. He was leaving again.

“Wait!” Amy
half-commanded, half-pleaded. Her desperation was showing. He stopped and
looked, indulging her as she tried to find words.

“It’s just…things
like this don’t happen to me. You leaving feels wrong.”

She knew she was
ruining it, the spontaneity of it all, the beauty of the no strings attached
encounter. But that didn’t bother him in the least.

“I’ll be around.
Come find me.” He smiled devilishly then walked off.

Amy tried to watch
him leave. She wanted to see what he drove, where he went. He could have fit
perfectly into a Lamborghini Aventador or a Ford F150, neither would surprise
her. But look as hard as she might, he was already gone. It was like he had
vanished.

Amy stopped and
leaned back against her crossover. Her head was spinning and her heart racing.
It took some time before she settled down.

What the hell just happened to me?

Amy was a basket
case the remainder of the day. A glorious, happy, sexed-up basket case. Nothing
bothered her. She was a little spacey at times, daydreaming of a man whose name
she didn’t even know (
how did she let that
happen
?), but she catered to her kids’ every need, took them out to their
favorite restaurant for dinner, then read extra long to them at bed.

Once they were
asleep, the night was hers.

Amy broke out a
bottle of champagne for one, and drank it awash in fantasy endings to the
morning’s encounter. Even when she focused on what had actually happened, with
all the unresolved business, every second of frustration and sexual tension
felt
great
. She finished the bottle
in a bubble bath, after which she air-dried before climbing under the sheets. Her
fingers explored her recesses knowingly and she came quickly and freely with
his imagined, smiling face looking down from atop her.

Sleep came easily,
as if she had been drugged.

She had.

What came next
felt like it was
real.

Amy opened her
eyes and did not immediately understand what she was seeing. She was looking at
herself, stretched out on a stone floor, basking in flickering fire light. Amy could
feel the hard, warm stone beneath her bare shoulders and back. She was looking
up at her reflection in mirrors that lined the ceiling.

Where am I?

That was important
to know if she was to ever get home, but she quickly realized the real
question:
Why am I here?

 
She was nude except for a thin, silk
bikini that offered minimal protection to her breasts and womanhood. Her lips
and nails had been painted blood red, a color that suited her more than she had
ever realized. The exposed flesh of her waist and the tops of her breasts were
painted with archaic runes, some kind of symbols Amy couldn’t understand.

Someone had done
this to her. Someone had taken her from her bedroom, painted her, and left her
waiting for…whom? Or what?

For a woman who
had been kidnapped, Amy was more intrigued than fearful. She was dressed as a thing
of desire. No, more than that: she was a male fantasy. But who was it that she
was to entice and provoke? Amy intended to find out, and was not about to wait.
She was going to learn her fate on her terms.

She stood up and
looked and listened. There was fire everywhere. It was the only source of
light. Its heat burned her skin and kept her glistening in its light. This
place was otherworldly, something out of a fantasy novel. Or perhaps it was
Hell, although she didn’t hear any screaming. Quite the opposite, it was eerily
quiet, with nothing to be heard but the crackling of the flames and her soft
footsteps. But the illustrations on the walls were graphic depictions of human
women and men being taken by strange and terrible creatures.

“Is this why I’m
here?” she asked.

Part of her wanted
to say
Bring it.
She would show
whoever had taken her what she was made out of.
 
But she didn’t understand what she was
feeling. So many emotions, all jumbled together. Fear and outrage at being
kidnapped. Confusion. Intrigue over who has taken her. And – she couldn’t
deny it – arousal. Seeking her captor, and possibly being hunted at the
same time, was turning her on. If nothing else, she hadn’t had a night like
this…ever.

Amy ran off,
barefoot, to explore her prison. It was one great romantic, mixed message
– rooms that were clearly dungeons, geared at pain and pleasure, in that
order, but radiating luxury and decadence. She wandered and wandered, becoming
so frustrated that she wanted to shout out to whoever was there. But just then
stealth was her only friend, so she bit her blood-red lower lip and remained
silent.

She was actually
growing tired of it all when she rounded a corner and entered a long marble
hallway, only to find herself in the path of a twenty-foot long king cobra. She
froze. The monster saw her and reared up. He kept her paralyzed with his cold
gaze that seemed to look directly into her. Then he let out a long, malevolent
hiss.

Amy did not
hesitate. She ran.

She could hear the
snake following but was too frightened to look back. She was the one being
hunted. If Amy wanted to survive, she would need to keep her wits about her. As
she ran, the paths before her made no sense. It was if they came into being as
she perceived them, and they were designed to disorient her, slow her down. She
was being teased and tormented even as the giant serpent came for her. She
could not backtrack the way she had come, because the way she had come was no
longer there, as if it had never existed. Obstacles were present, mercifully,
but they only delayed the monster at best. Amy closed and bolted massive oak
doors, never having time to check what else was in the room with her, or
whether there was another way out. None of the rooms had any windows, but they
all had secret passageways that she was compelled to enter as she discovered
them. She was being driven into greater and greater danger.

What are you going to do to me?

A hidden tunnel
dropped her onto the shore of an underground river. Steam was pouring off the
water – if it even was water. Amy did not dare swim in it, for fear of
being burned, dissolved, eaten, or falling prey to some horrible combination of
those fates. She was left with one path before her. That path led into a maze
of stone walls. She ran inside, thinking she already knew how this was going to
end.

The serpent was in
the maze with her now, she was sure of it, just as she was sure it knew where
each path led and where he was going to corner her. With each dead end, Amy had
to turn and run back, trying to get to the mouth of another path before the
serpent trapped her. Several times she almost came to face to face with it and
had to sprint, gasping in the hellish, fiery air, to put distance between
herself and its coils. Finally she reached a set of stairs that went up several
levels into a long hall. There she reached a dead end from which she could not
escape. It was time for her to meet her fate.

Get on with it already!