Enslaved (The Inbetween Novels)
Just Ink Press, LLC
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or were used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Enslaved
Copyright
2013 by R.C. Murphy
Edited by
N.L. Gervasio
Photo Copyright Yuri Arcurs
Photoshop Cover Art by Lori Lasswell
Cover design and interior images by N.L. Gervasio
All rights are reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First electronic publication: February 2013
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Table of Contents
Incubus: a creature that creeps into the dreams of women and fulfills their every sexual fantasy. When the sun rises, he vanishes without a trace. Sounds like an ideal situation for both parties, right? She enjoys the best sex of her life. He is able to fuck and run without an ounce of guilt about the endless stream of women he’s bedded.
If only that were the truth.
The reality of an incubus’s existence isn’t nearly as steamy. Men need not covet the lives of those poor few indentured to a life of meaningless intercourse. Love is a foreign concept in the stark barracks housing the incubi when they aren’t being summoned and ridden like prized stallions. Their flesh is marred with tattooed cuffs, brands for all to see and know what they are. Not even the gods will sully their eyes by looking on an incubus for too long. Demons get a better reception.
Deryck—named after the male he replaced in the ranks of incubi—was one such unfortunate soul. Stolen from the womb of his mother moments before his birth, he’s known only the life of a slave. The world be damned if he could figure out how to fix a car, or even drive the damn thing, but he knew every single way to pleasure a woman.
“Time for me to go, mistress.” He pulled his shaft free of the brunette gasping for air beneath him and used the sheet pinned by their bodies to clean off the two of them.
“Will I see you again?” Her drugged voice barely carried from the pillow her head rested on. Sweat-drenched hair clung to her breasts in strands like chocolate rivers over milky flesh. The woman arched her back and played a finger over her erect nipple in a flagrant attempt to seduce him.
“Sure you will.” A blatant lie. He never answered the summons of the same woman twice. No exceptions.
“Mmm . . . good.”
Deryck traced a finger down the side of her neck. “Sleep.”
The command sucked her into a deep slumber. She’d wake in her reality with pleasant memories of their time together with none of the unfortunate side effects of a one-night-stand. Incubi were infertile, much to his relief.
Deryck dressed in the jeans and form-fitting t-shirt he’d arrived in. He raked a hand through his hair to right it. With a thought, he transported himself from the Inbetween to the compound on the Other Side where the incubi lived. He hoped everyone was out. Silence and solitude were his best friends, especially after being summoned.
“Holy shit, were you mauled by a tiger?”
Garik propped his shoulder against the archway leading to the communal showers. His jaw worked at a piece of gum. He nodded at the row of scratches on Deryck’s throat; eyebrows bobbed suggestively.
“Don’t play coy. Tell me about her.”
“When have I ever shared the details of my business?” Deryck turned his back on the other male and stripped out of his shirt. He’d shower, even if it meant having company.
“Humor me, man.” Garik’s voice held an edge of excitement. He’d yet to grow out of the phase where their life excited him. Give him a couple more years and he’d be as jaded as the rest of them. But for now, they all must deal with his exuberance.
Deryck finished undressing and edged past the male. The shower room held twenty showerheads and not much else. A rack of towels sat near the door. Hanging on the walls between the showerheads were containers of antibacterial body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, displayed in neat little rows.
He snatched a washcloth off the towel rack and walked over to the showerhead he’d deemed his since the first night he’d been summoned to ravish that first young woman, Deirdre—the only one of his lovers that he’d ever remember the name of. A man remembers his first, no matter how many come after.
A low whistle cut over the sound of falling water. He ignored it and pumped blue gel body wash onto the wet washcloth. Deryck set to scrubbing the recent female’s scent and sweat off his body. Not that he considered it his own anymore. Other people used it, fed it, and clothed it. He just lived in that sack of muscle and bone, praying for the day he’d be allowed to pass on to oblivion.
“She must have been a wildcat.” Garik plopped lanky frame down on the cold tile across the room. The hem of his jogging pants soaked up the water running his way. “Maybe she’ll summon one of us again. I’d love to take that ride.”
“Be my guest.”
“Why don’t you take repeats, man? The rest of us do.” Gods, would he drop it already?
Deryck shot the other man a look and rinsed the soap from his back. “I don’t care for it. That’s all.”
A wide grin cut across Garik’s dark face. “You’re missing out, when they learn what you like it—”
“Not interested in teaching humans.” Turning his back on Garik, he hoped like hell the male would take a hint and get lost.
Deryck washed and conditioned his jaw-length hair. After any summons, that remained the best part; washing away the evidence of how he’d been touched by others. With his hair taken care of, he could face a mirror and know if a strand was out of place; he’d styled it that way.
He shut off the water and grabbed a towel. Garik was blessedly absent.