Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Rule Number 6 of being a feeder: trust is earned, not given. Don’t give your incubus any reason not to trust you, or the contract could be terminated.

Avery felt warm and fuzzy, his limbs made of jello and his brain full of cotton. He’d never experienced that kind of pleasure in his life. Sure, he participated in some hasty solo sessions when he needed to clear his head, but he wasn’t obsessed with the idea of sex like his friends from high school were. In college, he’d been too busy studying to keep his scholarship. And then his mother got sick and he had to drop out to help her and life got in the way. And then suddenly he was twenty-seven, still a virgin, and too embarrassed to do anything about it. A virgin in college was easy to explain. An almost thirty-year-old virgin was a secret he’d been determined to take to his grave. He figured he’d meet the right person, things would happen naturally, and he’d never have to admit that he had no experience.

Granted, up until he stepped inside Ozen Hawksley’s office, he’d thought he was straight. Well. Sort of. He’d assumed he was, since he hadn’t really given much thought to it. All his friends were straight, so he’d just assumed when he eventually found someone he was interested in, it’d be a woman. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was still a virgin at his age. He hadn’t been interested enough to try because he had been looking at the wrong gender.

He didn’t spend much time dating, and the few dates he went on every year were awkward and always ended the same way—with him counting down the minutes until it was over and with the woman saying she’d just like to be friends. He was never too disappointed when he went home alone. He was more interested in not coming home to an empty apartment than he was interested in sex.

And then Ozen asked Avery to feed him, and his mindset shifted. He knew part of that was Ozen’s magic; it filled the air and made him feel drunk, wiping out the fear and confusion that’d filled his veins. But he’d felt the magic draw back, like cool water running through his system, clearing the fog from his mind. He knew he could say no when Ozen asked him again. He just… didn’t want to. He had an opportunity to deal with an issue he’d been embarrassed about for years, and with an incubus, he was almost guaranteed to enjoy it. Sure, he’d never thought about anyone playing with his ass, but Ozen had been gentle. He’d felt nothing but pleasure until he came so hard, he felt his soul leave his body, and Ozen had to physically carry him to the couch to recover.

Avery let himself drift in those happy feelings for a while. He figured it was fine, since Ozen never said anything to hurry him along. It was only when a shriek that bordered on painful cut through his daze that he blinked back to reality. Ozen was standing a few feet away, his hands up in surrender as a woman with long black hair and a smart skirt suit screamed at him. Avery recognized the pitch black gaze. That, combined with the screaming that was getting more painful by the second, told him what she was. Banshee. If someone didn’t stop her, she might accidentally kill him. Humans were especially sensitive to banshee screams.

Covering his ears, he forced himself to his feet, nearly toppling since his knees still felt like jello. He stumbled, which caught the attention of Ozen and the banshee as well. Her tirade stopped, and her fury died off, worry replacing the anger on her face.

“Oh, Mr. Whitman, I’m so sorry. You never should have been put in this position. I hope you didn’t think you had to?—”

“I didn’t. I mean, I asked for it. No, wait, that doesn’t sound right. I knew what I was doing?” He was making it worse, and he felt a blush steal up his cheeks. It was one thing to feed an incubus; it was another thing entirely to discuss it with someone else.

The banshee didn’t look like she believed him, but he didn’t know how to explain himself without admitting he agreed to have sex with a perfect stranger because he was tired of being a virgin. The more he thought about it, the more embarrassed he felt.

“Avery. Did I ever make you feel like you had to feed me?”

Ozen’s question made him relax. That was an easy thing to answer.

“No. Never.”

“Did my magic make you feel you weren’t clear headed enough to consent properly?”

Avery pursed his lips, considering his words carefully. “I mean, at first I felt really drunk. But!” He saw the banshee whip her head toward Ozen, ready to start screaming at him again. Avery hurried before she could start. “But then you pulled it back, and you asked me point blank. At that moment, I was fully aware of myself and my decisions. I promise.”

It was still really embarrassing to admit, but Avery kept his chin up. He didn’t want Ozen getting into trouble because of Avery’s decision. He was hungry, he asked nicely, Avery said yes. End of story.

The banshee didn’t agree. “Did you feel like you had to feed Mr. Hawksley as part of your job?”

That made Avery hesitate. So, technically, that had been the first thought that crossed his mind. Since Morana never told him what job he was being sent for, he’d assumed it was something administrative, since that’s where he thrived. He saw the empty desk outside Mr. Hawklsey’s office and thought that proved him correct. So when Mr. Hawksley asked Avery to feed him, he’d automatically assumed it was part of the job. Mr. Hawklsey had acted like everything was normal, and it wasn’t like he forced Avery to do it. He asked permission first.

He hesitated too long, apparently, because the banshee shot a scathing look at Mr. Hawklsey. “I understand you were hungry, but this is unacceptable. I don’t know what I’m going to say to his boss when I call her. You?—”

Avery blanched. “Uh, we’re not really going to tell Morana about this, right? She would fire me if she knew I was having sex on the job.”

“You were coerced, dear, none of this was your fault,” the banshee said dismissively, her glare still locked on Mr. Hawksley, who looked downright ashamed of himself.

“No, wait! He didn’t force me! He asked! I knew I could say no if I wanted. Yes, I figured it was part of the job, but I didn’t think that I didn’t have a choice in the matter. If I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t have to accept. It wasn’t like he said my job was on the line if I didn’t.”

Both Mr. Hawksley and the banshee studied him like they were trying to find the lie in his statement. They’d find none. Avery was one hundred percent into what happened between him and Mr. Hawksley. He wanted it to happen. Though he wasn’t sure if it counted as him finally having sex. Did fingering count?

“If you’re sure…” The banshee still frowned deeply and her gaze was suspicious, like she didn’t quite believe him. But she’d have to outright call him a liar if she didn’t stop pushing, so she let it go, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

“Now, Mr. Whitman, you were actually hired to take my place as secretary. I understand if that makes you uncomfortable or no longer appeals to you. I’ll call your manager and?—”

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” Avery assured her, waving his hands a little wildly to ward her off. “I’ve been in a secretary position plenty of times, and I promise to do the job well.”

Her eyes softened a little. “I’m sure you will. Come join me at my desk and I’ll give you the rundown of the position. Mr. Hawksley, you have a meeting downstairs. I’ll tell the feeder to meet you at lunch.”

Something about that bothered him, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Mr. Hawksley stalked out of the room without another word, his face a stoic mask. The expected feeder was in the ante office, but Mr. Hawksley ignored him, much to the feeder’s confusion. He was a pretty man, with long eyelashes framing bright green eyes and a trim figure. He wasn’t wearing a suit like the rest of the office; his clothes were more casual and form flattering, showing off his lithe muscles and a strip of skin below his belly button. Compared to Avery, it was easy to tell who was the feeder and who was the awkward temp.

“I apologize, Calvin. Mr. Hawksley has a meeting to get to. You’ll speak with him at lunch. Feel free to wait here if you wish, or there is a cafe downstairs. I suggest you don’t be late a second time. I won’t have another incident thanks to your tardiness.”

Her icy tone would’ve made Avery flinch if he’d been on the receiving end. Calvin only blinked at her, one perfectly plucked eyebrow arching in question. Someone had a superiority complex.

The standoff between the feeder and the banshee was brief, and when Calvin finally left the office and headed toward the elevators, the banshee sighed heavily.

“I thought I vetted him properly, but after that display, I’m beginning to think he was acting to get the job. I hope I’m not wrong… It’s been difficult finding a feeder that is compatible with Mr. Hawksley. I’m almost wondering if I should cancel my trip.” She muttered that last part to herself, and Avery worried he’d be out of a job before he even started. Because apparently feeding Mr. Hawksley this morning didn’t count.

“You don’t think he can find a feeder on his own?” Avery queried.

The banshee sighed again, and the tension in her face said she needed the vacation more than she was willing to admit. “He can, and there are agencies that he’s used in the past, but there is a common theme amongst feeders these days. They seem to be more and more flippant and cause more trouble than they’re worth. I promised him after the last disaster that I’d find one myself that suited him better. I never even considered that they would fake their sincerity during an interview.” She stared at the door a while longer before shaking herself like she was clearing her thoughts and returning her attention to Avery. “Well, enough about that. I’m sure Calvin will do his job well enough. I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Collette Sable, the executive assistant assigned to Mr. Hawksley. He has a whole pool of secretaries, and they’ll be around to help you if you need it. You said you’ve been a secretary before?”