Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

LYRE

What the hell was wrong with him?

Lyre rested his forehead against the pillar and pressed his clenched fist against the unyielding concrete. He pressed harder and harder until pain cut through the buzzing in his head and the giddy, hungry euphoria waned.

He could still feel them—hundreds of swirling presences, the dancers lost in lust and excitement. Their energy was like a drug and it called to him. For an incubus, this place was the worst combination of everything they loved and everything that made them weak. Aroused, uninhibited women everywhere. So much lust energy. It was overwhelming. It was glorious.

His hunger raged under the surface, ravenous and unsatiated. Temptation flaunted itself everywhere he turned. Stimulation, scents and sounds and willing bodies. He ached from it—ached for it.

He dug his fist into the concrete.

He'd almost used aphrodesia on Clio to get what he wanted. Even if he'd wanted an answer and not her body, it didn't make much difference. If he was willing to compromise her willpower for that, then he was willing to compromise her willpower for anything he might want badly enough.

But damn, it was so difficult around her. He'd been fighting the urge to let his magic loose since he'd pulled her against him on the dance floor. Since he'd carried her out of the crowd. Since he'd touched her face, touched her body, pulled her to him, moved against her the way he wanted to move inside her.

In short, since he'd started seducing her.

Hadn't he decided he wouldn't risk sleeping with Clio? Somehow, she kept erasing that decision right out of his head. In a club full of eager women, he wanted her. Only her. The moment he'd touched her on the dance floor, the other women had virtually disappeared, and all his hunger and need had locked onto her.

Just her. The girl he'd decided he couldn't have.

An Overworlder. A nymph. A virgin. Three reasons to keep his distance that should have been more than enough. Three reasons that were doing shit all to stop him from trying anyway.

Lyre breathed deeply to clear his head. He'd worry about everything else—including how Clio had copied his weaving—when he wasn't in the middle of a succubus club. Right now, he needed to find her so they could get out of here.

Before he could do that, however, he needed to get a grip on himself. Even alone, he still burned for her. He couldn't stop thinking about her mouth, her body, her warmth, her scent, her taste. He was going insane with it. A prickling sensation ran up his arms, almost painful. Instead of receding, the desire lighting him on fire kept building.

He pulled his fist off the pillar and opened his fingers. Confused, he watched his hand tremble. He couldn't think. The searing lust had become pure torment, and he panted for air as the tremor in his limbs increased.

A flutter of fear pierced him before the flames within him consumed it too. Caught in a maelstrom of raging need, he turned around.

And looked into the yellow eyes of the woman standing behind him.

Clio

Clio splashed water on her face and grimaced at her reflection. She couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. She needed to go back out there and face him .

Passing a group of tipsy girls, she returned to the main club where the flashing lights and hammering beat assaulted her all over again. She would find Lyre and they would make their getaway now that he'd charged his lodestones.

And, she decided as she headed toward the dark corner where she'd left him, once they were out of here, she would tell him she was a mimic. Considering what they'd gone through together already, he deserved to know. But would he understand the implications of her rare ability? Would he realize only members of the royal nymph bloodline possessed the mimic gift?

She chewed her lip as she scanned the dark corner. Where was he? This was the same spot, wasn't it? She was certain of it.

Cold slipped through her veins. Had he left without her? He wouldn't do that, would he?

Blinking rapidly, she focused her asper. A golden cloud of aphrodesia hung in the air, as thick as Madrigal's had been when he'd tried to control her mind. The wispy trail of magical fog ran along the perimeter wall and disappeared through a curtained doorway—guarded by two beefy bouncers.

She looked from the mysterious doorway back to the aphrodesia mist. Why would Lyre unleash his seduction magic like that? Unless…

Unless that wasn't his aphrodesia.

The chill in her blood turned to ice. She had left him alone. She'd promised to watch his back, then she'd left him alone in a succubus club. The lust-energy high had impaired his judgment. She'd seen it herself. Why had she left him alone?

Controlling her panic, Clio headed for the curtained doorway. The bouncers watched the clubbers, their gazes shifting from person to person but never turning her way. Her powerful cloaking spell was still working. Keeping to the shadows, she crept closer, and when both men focused on a catfight near the bar, she ducked between them and through the curtain. On the other side, the corridor opened into a posh private sitting area.

Muffled laughter reached her ears. The last of the faint aphrodesia clung to a closed door with a fine web of gold light crisscrossing the handle—a lock spell. Hurrying to the door, she pressed her ear to the wood and heard female voices on the other side.

Carefully, she broke the spell and turned the handle. The latch clicked quietly, and she cracked the door open to peek inside.

The small room was open in the center, while plush leather sofas lined the walls on three sides. Soft blue light glowed from behind the seats, giving the whole space an eerie twilight cast. Small tables for drinks were pushed into a corner, as though the room wasn't in use right now.

In the middle, three women stood—the most beautiful women Clio had ever seen. Waves of silken blond hair, tanned skin, huge golden eyes lined with thick lashes, sculpted cheekbones, and full lips. They were impossibly stunning and flawless—walking fantasies instead of flesh-and-blood women.

And standing in their center was Lyre.

The illusion spell that had changed his hair color was gone, his pale locks tinted by the blue lights. A succubus stood in front of him, two fingers under his chin as she gazed unblinkingly into his eyes. He stared back at her with pitch-black irises, his expression eerily blank.

The other two succubi circled him like he was a prized stallion.

"He really is quite fine," one commented as she squeezed his bicep. He didn't react, his stare still locked on the succubus in front of him. "Ten out of ten, even for an incubus."

Lyre's voice was otherworldly in its musical tones, but the succubus's was too beautiful for words. An entire symphony would have been hard-pressed to produce a more pleasing sound.

"We should dock him a point for stupidity," the shortest of the three said. "Do you think he knows this place is run by succubi?"

"Either way, I'm pleased." She stroked his arm again and smirked when he shuddered. "Rosa, has he submitted yet?"

The succubus holding eye contact with him smiled. "He's fighting my control. He does not want to obey." She ran her tongue over her upper lip. "I do enjoy a fighter."

Clio swallowed down her stomach. Lyre had said the succubi in the club would attack him, but she hadn't expected this .

She should have, though. She'd seen how swiftly and viciously a female's aphrodesia could overwhelm an incubus—because she had done exactly that to Madrigal and, by extension, Lyre when she'd mimicked their auras. Just as Madrigal had lost his will to Clio, Lyre had lost his to these succubi. Three of them. He hadn't stood a chance.

"What shall we do with him first?" With two fingers still under his chin, Rosa slid her other hand down his chest. "Zinnia, what do you think?"

The short succubi flipped her waist-length hair over her shoulders. Much like the clubbers on the dance floor, she wore a tight miniskirt and a shimmering top with a plunging neckline. Clio pressed her face against the crack in the door and tried desperately to think of a plan—a way she could take on three daemons without Lyre getting caught in the crossfire.

"Why don't we see exactly what we have before we decide?" Zinnia suggested. "Have him release his glamour."

"Ooh," the third succubi exclaimed. "Excellent idea. Let's see him."

Rosa laughed and tightened her grip on Lyre's chin. "Release your glamour, darling."

He bared his teeth at her.

Zinnia chimed a laugh. Despite the hair-raising beauty of the sound, a clear note of cruel amusement rang in it. " Still fighting, oh my."

Rosa's fingers dug into Lyre's jaw and when she spoke again, even Clio heard the power in her voice.

" Release your glamour. "

The tension tightening his muscles relaxed and his black eyes dulled with sudden passivity. Shimmers of light washed over him like heat waves, and when they faded, the glamour that disguised him as human was gone.

Clio couldn't breathe.

His body remained essentially the same, but everything about him that was already mouthwateringly gorgeous had been magnified to a whole new level. His hair, silken and tousled, had paled closer to white. A thin braid, longer than the rest of his hair, hung down one side of his face to just below his jaw, the end adorned with a sparkling ruby. His skin, tanned honey, was radiant, almost luminescent, as though the golden light of his aura was leaking from within him. His ears came to sharp points, and the left one was pierced with two tiny gold hoops and a diamond stud.

Mysterious garb she'd glimpsed once before had replaced his torn shirt and black pants. The midnight blue garments were fitted to his body, the seams accented with silver thread and black edging. The cut was simple but flattering, and the sleeveless shirt exposed the finely tooled leather armguard on his left forearm and the short sheaths holding knives strapped to his other arm. A strung bow and bristling quiver hung off his shoulders, and more gear was belted over his body. He looked ready to walk onto a battlefield.

The succubi were silent, as stunned as Clio. Had his brilliant allure stolen their breath too? Were their hearts locked in their chests, too stunned to beat, as though only his touch could awaken them? Or had his battle-ready appearance silenced them?

"Wow," Zinnia murmured. She plucked at his shirt. "This is high quality."

Rosa didn't move, still holding eye contact. "Jessamine, what's his family mark?"

The third succubus peered at Lyre's right cheekbone. Beneath his eye, a delicate design was tattooed in black ink.

"I don't recognize it," Jessamine said.

Zinnia joined her to squint at the marking, then slipped her fingers under the neckline of his shirt. She pulled out two chains laden with sparkling gems—and the small silver key that armed the clock spell.

"No way!" Jessamine gasped. "Are those all lodestones?"

"Whoa." Zinnia lifted them over his head. "These are worth a fortune. This guy is loaded ."

Rosa smirked as she rubbed her thumb along Lyre's jaw. "I'm impressed. I wonder how else he might be well-endowed. "

Clio's hands clenched as the two succubi pulled off his bow and quiver, unstrapped his larger weapons, then checked him for more valuables. They carelessly ran their hands over his body, uncovering several more lodestones from his pockets, and he did nothing, held firmly under Rosa's power. Giggling, Zinnia unbuckled his belt and wiggled her hand into his pants. Clio looked away, unable to watch.

Helpless fury burned through her. She wanted to burst in there and blast the succubi to pieces, but she had to wait for her best opportunity to act. If she used an attack to hit all three daemons at once, she would hurt Lyre too. If she only attacked one succubus, the other two might harm Lyre while he was helpless.

After stripping Lyre of his valuables and piling them on a sofa, Jessamine and Zinnia returned to Rosa's side.

"Well then," Zinnia purred. "We need to wear down his resistance before we can have any real fun with him. Do you think I can make him scream like the last one?"

"No, it was the one before that who screamed," Rosa corrected. "The last one cried , remember?"

"Oh yes. And he kept begging." Zinnia pulled Lyre's arms behind his back and light flashed as she bound his wrists together with a spell. "I want to hear this one beg."

Jessamine sighed. "Can we not torment him? It isn't necessary to control him."

Zinnia shot the succubus an incredulous look. "Are you serious?"

"I don't like…" She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't like using aphrodesia to break them. It's so… undignified."

"And you think he would treat you with dignity if he had caught you in his aphrodesia instead?" Rosa snapped. "You're so na?ve, Jessamine."

"Fine, do what you want." Scowling, Jessamine retreated to a sofa and sat, her arms folded.

"You're just going to watch instead?" Zinnia taunted. "Then I'll give you a show."

She turned to Lyre, grabbed him by the hair, and pulled his mouth down to hers.