A Sensual Summoning, page 9
The thought was commandeered by her panic and warped into something nastier.
When.
When I fail.
She had to do something now. She had to try something, or they’d be proven right.
The thought pounded on the door of her psyche, an air-raid siren that demanded immediate action when she hardly knew what she was dealing with.
Looking down at the grimoire that had acted as her pillow, she was nearly certain it contained expulsion spells. She’d noted it down earlier as she brainstormed ideas.
The light flicked on above her suddenly, the edges of her vision remaining dark and fuzzy to anything but the blurry pages in front of her.
The pulse of Raef’s presence strengthened from where he stood in the doorway, her eyes not lifting from her scribbled notes when she discovered she hadn’t noted which page the spell was on.
Fuck, disaster wailed in her mind.
It was in the first half of the book, that narrowed it down a little. Flicking through the thick pages hurriedly, she scanned unseeing until the last page fell from between her fingers.
“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, a spike in adrenaline making her fingers fumble as she opened the centerfold to begin again.
“What are you doing?” Raef interrupted her when it was clear she had no intention of acknowledging him.
She still couldn’t find it.
Faye didn’t give herself the time to stress even further, her mind instantly tail spinning to try and recall as much as possible from memory instead.
“Faye?” Raef cleared his throat, dragging her attention to him momentarily.
Maybe he was coming down with something. Thyme tea with honey and ginger would help with that. She’d make some just as soon as she finished this.
His expression was unreadable, prompting her to stand while the scrape of the chair legs over the floor filled the room.
She needed a candle.
Shaking out her hands unconsciously, she crouched down on her haunches to riffle through the wicker baskets she kept on her lowest shelf. The one she needed wasn’t common, made from the fat of a migrating bird, but she knew she had one.
All the while, she could feel Raef’s eyes burning into her back, silently observing her while she tried to breathe normally.
“There’s something we can try, if you’re up for it,” she explained shakily. “Just give me a minute…”
He was silent and she was glad. It was better not to have too many distractions while she tried to recall everything else needed for the spell.
“It’s the middle of the night.”
She paused at his words, her fingers finally wrapping around the correct candle. She held it to her chest defensively as she stood. Sitting back down at her desk, she chanced a look at him. He hadn’t moved an inch, leaning against the doorframe with that same indefinable frown furrowing his brows as he watched her.
“Ah, about that…” she smiled politely out of habit, “I only meant to sleep for an hour, but I think I slept too much…”
A glance past the chipped muntin of her small apothecary window confirmed the hour. It was pitch dark outside, the wind rattling against the panes.
She must’ve been asleep for hours, belatedly realizing the lateness when she looked back at Raef.
His hair was messier than usual, from either sleep or his hands. He dragged a hand through it now as he looked away, giving her a perfect view of the clench in his strong jaw. Was he angry at her for waking him?
“They’re only dreams, Faye,” he said finally.
Her smile fell almost instantly.
He knew.
She felt exposed, vulnerable with nowhere to hide from his unwavering gaze when he looked back at her. Nothing to distract him with. It destroyed any façade she could cling to, and Faye was left adrift.
From the doorway, Raef released a deep exhale and entered the room.
She hardly noticed when he planted a hand on the desk by her and leaned down, gently coaxing her fingers to release the death grip they held on the candle. A grunt of approval left him when she acquiesced, and her gaze finally pulled up to him when he spoke.
“Take it from someone who manipulates dreams, little witch.” His eyes were hooded when they met hers, swirling with a depth of age that pulled her in deeper. “They’re not real.”
They’re not real.
All the tension left her in a gust of relief, leaving Faye boneless and teary as she dropped her forehead to his stomach without a thought. He stiffened under her, and she prayed he wouldn’t pull away. The heat that bled from him into her soothed her frayed nerves and surrounded her in a sense of safety she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
She could feel his eyes on the top of her head, jostling her slightly whenever he looked down. Other than that, the incubus didn’t move. His hand remained planted on the desk, braced over her like armor against the open exposure she’d been existing in where any stray arrow could pierce her.
Tears clung to her lashes as he stood between her and her nightmare. She sniffled despite her best efforts to hide her emotions and wanted to laugh. As if she could hide how she was feeling from an incubus.
She should pull away. She thought weakly even as his scent encased her in warmth.
This was an uncomfortable position for him, bent awkwardly over her and unable to move.
But it had been so long, so so long since she’d gotten comfort from a living, breathing person. It was nearly impossible to give up once she caved into it. She chose to live alone, away from people, but it appeared she wasn’t immune to the desires all humans felt.
He still hadn’t pushed her away, that was interesting. For an incubus, he was rather awkward, and Faye couldn’t help but soften to him.
How could the same man who effortlessly cut down monsters with the flick of a wrist and no doubt had cities of humans on their knees for him, be unable to tell her to stop now?
“I should be scared of you, shouldn’t I?” she heard herself asking, her breath hitting his chest where goosebumps pebbled on the rich skin.
He snorted above her, and Faye wondered what he looked like in that moment. What expression he wore and if he was still frowning.
“If you were smart, you would be,” he rumbled quietly.
Her stomach flipped unexpectedly. She hadn’t expected his voice to sound so… inviting without an ounce of that seductive heat she’d heard before.
“That explains it,” she smiled again to herself, “I’ve never been very bright.”
How many of those nightmares would’ve been solved if she was as smart or gifted as she was expected to be? In that case, though, she wouldn’t be able to experience Raef’s warmth as she was now and somehow, that felt like a greater loss.
Heat colored her cheeks and when his free hand jostled beside her, she assumed that was the end of this small anomaly in time that was never meant to happen and likely never would again.
When the soft material of her blanket draped back over her shoulders though, her eyes opened in surprise. She watched how his hand tucked it diligently further over her shoulder so it wouldn’t fall again.
He still hadn’t said a word and yet, his drawn-out attention on her blanket ensured she had a little more time exactly where she was without having to pull away.
Maybe he wasn’t awkward for an incubus, she pondered absently as rugged fingers glanced the side of her neck. Maybe he was simply more human than she ever expected a Daemon to be.
The thought gave her as much comfort as his body did, and when she finally pulled back herself, she knew it was because she was ready and not because she felt forced to do so.
Chapter 19
The agitated bellow that accompanied a warning kick made the cow’s opinion of him clear.
Rafael clicked his tongue, having sidestepped the irritated heifer’s tantrum to the detriment of one of the wooden planks that made up the fencing around her enclosure.
“You know your kind was bred for meat, right?” he retorted childishly, moving past the paddock to the surrounding woods instead. So what if her prey instincts were sharp? He was stuck here too. He should be allowed to walk wherever he wanted without the threat of a concussion.
The strength of the low winter sun was intercepted by dense trunks of varying thickness and offered a reprieve from the light. It would stay that way until the solstice.
How bothersome.
Hopefully he’d be long gone by then. In the meantime, he had little to do but ponder a new problem that had cropped up out of nowhere. One that took him by surprise, when eternity had all but removed that word from his vocabulary.
He couldn’t distinguish between two emotions that had been plaguing him for days.
Hope and disgust.
It shouldn’t be a tricky distinction to make, and on paper it wasn’t. But he’d been troubled by both ever since he came across the anxiety-riddled witch in her apothecary.
It was ironic for an incubus to be so confused. Emotions were nothing more than flavors to him, as clinical as they could possibly be. Yet, here he was, unable to determine his own.
Faye hadn’t been affected by him.
He came to a stop by the small stream that ran to a larger lake close to the cottage and turned to follow it. The burble of lazily meandering water provided something to fill the silence as his mind buzzed with thoughts.
It was a single blip in an otherwise invariable history, but for a brief moment, Faye hadn’t been influenced by his pheromones.
Granted, it was due to a distraught panic that still lingered in Rafael’s mouth days later, which was where his dilemma stemmed from originally. How could he be happy about something when it was clear it was at the expense of another?
Still, he couldn’t just forget about it.
Not when the desire he tasted on her that night had been so… innocent. That sounded like a paradox, even to him.
Desire was a form of greed, and greed tainted anything it touched with a selfishness that didn’t belong to the innocent. Faye... had been greedy in her desire, that much was the same as all the others.
But her desire, her greed, had been simple.
All she wanted was comfort, and his presence had been enough for that.
It filled his belly like an appetizer with a promise of more and left Rafael confused as to how he could feel so satisfied by such a small morsel.
Logic would tell him not to get his hopes up, while the insidious selfishness all Daemons were prone to told him to exploit it. What did he care? He’d searched for relief from his nature for so long, why shouldn’t he take advantage?
But that was the problem… he did care.
When the stream eventually rolled gently down a few steps and opened into a modest lake hidden by the forest, he inhaled a deep lungful of pure, wild air. Untainted by emotions the way most creatures experienced it.
“What sins must an incubus have committed… to be cursed with a conscience?” a memory purred with faux empathy, chilling him to the bone at the same time heavy, rain-laden clouds blocked the low hanging sun as they travelled across the sky.
He crouched on the grassy, frost dusted shore, the memory hitting him hard.
Along with the memory came the taste of rotting sweetness that was so potent in his mind, he wanted to throw up. In reality, it had been a taste so subtle, Rafael always managed to fool himself into ignoring it. To pretend it wasn’t there regardless of what emotion he could taste.
Trying to shake it away, he cupped a palmful of frigid, fresh water to splash on his face. He did it again and again, drowning the feverish anger that had nowhere to go but inward.
Droplets trickled down his neck and chest, giving him a route to ground himself back in the here and now.
He’d stewed on the past for centuries and still, he was unable to let it go.
Opening his eyes, his blood chilled quicker than the water could ever make it.
There, at the far shore of the lake, stood a man. Clad as he always was in modest leathers and his shoulder-length, blond hair pinned back at one side, he looked younger. He looked like he did before he betrayed him.
Rafael couldn’t look away.
This wasn’t real. He couldn’t taste anything from the illusion. That was all he had to keep him collected as his eyes never wavered from the man.
Across the lake, the mirage cast astute, olive eyes around him. Curious, as ever. His hair caught in the low sun, glinting like gold and blinding Rafael for a split second and then he was gone.
He dropped his gaze back to the water, the throb of a headache making itself known with the uncomfortable stress that always came from dwelling on the past.
He’d never escape the ghosts of his memory and still, it was a pallid punishment for what he’d done.
Chapter 20
Nearly a week to the day that Raef became bound to her, and they’d settled into an uneasy routine characterized by the fact that Faye hardly ever saw the incubus from one day to the next.
He was avoiding her.
He disappeared into the woods for long stretches of the day, testing the limits of their physical chain based on the twinge of discomfort she experienced occasionally when he went too far. It never lasted more than a few seconds before he retreated within an acceptable distance.
Faye could sense his restlessness.
He wanted to leave.
She didn’t blame him.
After being stuck in a book for centuries, it was a bitter punishment to have his freedom snatched from him once again. Surely there were things he had to do, people he wanted to see. He could have a family for all Faye knew.
Did Daemons have families?
The thought sat like a brick in her stomach, colliding with the confusion surrounding his kindness in her apothecary a few nights ago.
Did Raef have people waiting for him? Hoping against hope for his return one day? He’d been alive for millennia, it made sense that he’d fostered relationships and bonds deeper than anything a human could comprehend.
Maybe that was why she couldn’t relate to it. That’s what she told herself anyway.
She continued to chop potatoes and onions in a daze, her mind miles away while she prepared dinner. She was already chopping three potatoes too many, unable to make her usual single servings when she discovered Raef could eat, it was just pointless since it provided him with no nutrition.
It’s not like he ever ate any of it, and she usually ended up having the leftovers the next day herself.
Their encounters were too fraught with tension to ever bring it up, the memory of her unmasked weakness and his shielded kindness hanging between them and taking up every chance she had to ask about something as inconsequential as a meal.
Still, she couldn’t stop herself making enough for two, just in case.
Faye stalled her knife mid-slice when the back door creaked as it opened, a gust of wind blowing in before Raef shut it behind him.
Her heart stuttered, all her senses sharpening and focusing on him unwittingly.
He normally returned later, when she was already tucked safely behind her bedroom door. She’d hear his heavy footsteps pause outside, her anticipation spiking as the alluring heat seeped in under the door. He never entered, and when he continued towards the living room, she was always left disappointed.
Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she caught sight of him as he walked in through the kitchen.
Her throat went dry. It had been a few days since she really saw him, and his looks still stunned her. How darkness and the incomprehensible force of pure magic could be personified in a single man.
He paused on his way through the kitchen, catching her eye. Faye’s stomach flipped; the glow cast by the pendant light brightening his eyes to a rich chestnut.
“Dinner?” she asked automatically, turning back to her vegetables to hide the blush that immediately rose on her cheeks.
Now was the time she chose to ask about food? She winced at the awkwardness thickening the atmosphere, wishing the earth would be kind enough to swallow her whole. She looked after it daily, it was the least it could do for her in return.
“What?” he answered sharply, catching her by surprise.
Looking back at him, she almost missed the glint of topaz in the light before he averted his gaze.
“Cullen skink, do you want some?” She nodded to the smoked haddock waiting to be prepared and added to the thick, traditional soup.
“Oh,” Raef deadpanned, eyeing the fish suspiciously as though it had committed some great crime against him. “No.”
She shouldn’t have been let down. She knew his answer before she even asked.
“But since we’re on the topic,” he continued, “I need to go into that town again soon.”
On the topic?
She cocked her head quizzically as he crossed his arms and actively kept his eyes anywhere but on her. He almost looked nervous to be mentioning it.
Understanding dawned on her when his throat bobbed, and his eyes darkened when they finally slid to hers slowly.
He needed to eat. And in order to eat…
“I can go alone,” his voice was gruff when it registered with her, “but you’ll be in pain and…”
“I’ll go,” she cut across him suddenly, tossing the vegetables into her pot to sweat down. “Is tomorrow good? I can pick up some supplies while we’re there.”
That was a lie, and it was clear he knew it by the way he shifted his weight. She didn’t need anything in town, but she needed something to do while he did… somebody.
“Tomorrow, then.”
She expected him to leave, to end the conversation as quickly as he usually did. So, when he walked up behind her instead, she almost jumped out of her skin.
He looked into the pot curiously from over her shoulder. “You grew all this?” he asked while she mentally coached herself to appear unaffected by his proximity even as her navel tightened with budding arousal.
She wanted something, anything, to relieve this knot growing steadily tighter inside her. She added the fillets of haddock to a pot of cream and milk instead.
