Today we have the pleasure to pick the brain of a real live Incubus. Why don’t we start with your name?
Name’s are such boring things, hardly worth more than a passing thought. I barely keep one for longer than a hundred, hundred and twenty years.
Well, you must call yourself something.
Ink seems to serve such needs.
Thank you for being here, Ink. Could you tell us a little about yourself?
I am a creature of Sin, Lust personified, consumer of that sweet nectar when sweaty bodies tumble together between sheets…or beneath your father’s carriage.
That’s…um, that’s fascinating. So you, you can’t kill people with sex, right?
Of course I can, my dear. You seem to find the thought ill-fitting. But tell me, given the preponderance of options for shuffling you off your mortal coil, would there be any better choice than enjoying such orgasmic bliss your body falters from achieving such levels of pleasure.
You need not worry, however. I am bound to only seduce and lay with my bond. Have you met her?
I don’t believe so.
You must not have, as you’d remember an encounter with Layla. She has the elbows of a goddess. There is also a good chance of something on your person catching aflame. She does not do subtle.
So Mr. Ink, you’re a demon—
Not a demon, a Creature of Sin. Though I have been to hell.
Really? Hell is…what is it like?
Let me just say that I would not wish that place upon my faintest acquaintance.
Don’t you mean your worst enemy?
Oh no, Hell is the perfect environment for those knaves. I was plucked from that unending nothingness by the delicate touch of my bond. Thanks to her innate magical presence, I can feed without harming her, and she can lavish upon my libidinous talents until she’s unable to walk.
That’s…a lot to take in.
That is what the dowager said after peeling away my tights. Though that coxcomb’s talents are nothing compared to the dexterity and speed with which an incubus can vibrate his tongue. Also provides a modest income when traversing the operatic scene. 🎶 I am the very model of a modern major debaucher. 🎶
How old are you?
It’s not polite to ask a demon his age. Let me simply say that I am not a fan of this trousers trend. Togas made for much easier access when the Praetor’s wife requires proper administrations from the wavy-haired Olympian.
You’re saying you’re over two thousand years old? You’ve seen nearly all of human history?
Yes, though there’s not much worth pinning to memory. The whole of your species’ history amounts to struggling to find the right place to sit.
The human grows weary, so he sits upon the log. But the rain falls. Thus, he builds a roof over the log. Then others come, also wanting to sit upon the log. He might build more roofs, or order his neighbors to find their own log, but one day the logs will run out. Then there’s conquest, famine, war, so on and so forth. If humans were more like horses and spent their days standing in the field, I daresay your history would have turned out much differently.
You’re given me a lot to think about.
I’m sorry. I prefer to give people something to pant about. I will work on that.
Is there anything else you’d like to tell the people reading this.
Ah yes, let me see here. I was told to inform that you can read about my exploits along with my bond’s, and the mutt she’s picked up in the first book of the Coven of Desire series, Claw. I hope that makes a lick of sense to you.
Thank you for taking the time to be with us, Ink.
And thank you for desiring me bound on my knees while you lash my back with a bamboo stick. I haven’t been able to savor that desire in many years.
He’s not your typical werewolf-next-door.
Layla didn’t count on a sex demon appearing in her living room. Nor did she expect to find she’s a witch, tasked with protecting the mortal realm. And now her friend, fellow nursing student and impossible crush could be a potential killer?
She’s silently lusted after Cal for a year, knowing a guy that hot, sweet, and kind wouldn’t look twice at her. All their flirting was innocent and went nowhere, until Ink—the incubus bound to her—ran into her life and bed. Next thing she knows, Cal’s growling at her while Ink flirts, and women are being ripped apart by wild animals. Couldn’t the murder monster mystery wait until after finals?
She wanted to be a nurse, not a paranormal investigator, but Layla has no choice. Apparently only witches can stop these creatures that she didn’t even know existed a month ago. But the deeper she digs, the more it looks like Cal’s deep in the middle of it all. How can she save her friend from the claws of a cult, keep her sex-craved demon happy and find a way to let both into her heart or bed?
Everyone who buys a copy of Claw will receive the short story Retail Hell free. Set between the events of Ink and Claw in the Coven of Desire series, Layla’s workday from hell is interrupted by her personal sex demon.