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Chapter 5

Declan

H is kind murdered Augustine’s mother?

As far as Declan knew, incubi had never had any beef with dragons. Well, not more than they had with anyone else. Most people, especially supernaturals who knew what the hell they were dealing with, didn’t trust demons. It wasn’t like incubi went around trying to make themselves more trustworthy either. For incubi like Elrith, it all came down to sex and power. Everything else was a waste of time.

But truth was, Declan didn’t engage with many incubi other than his half-siblings, and he knew even less about nymphs. Hard to imagine a nymph killing a dragon, even still. Maybe if they’d clashed over territory, or if the nymphs had tempted something bigger and badder onto their side.

Hell, maybe Augustine didn’t know what he was, but was just drawn to him like a lodestone because he was ever so pretty . He had called him a siren.

Growling, clearly furious, Augustine left him alone in the huge, quiet room. Declan pushed back against the headboard and made himself small, even after the door slammed and the dragon locked him inside, that prey instinct pushing him to hide.

It took a while for his head to clear, for the panic that gripped him to abate enough that he could take stock of his situation.

Shaking, Declan stared at the door, sure Augustine would be back any second. He’d been so angry, and what could Declan do against a creature like that? Seduce him, sure. Drain him dry if he wanted to.

It’d be all too easy to open himself up, let it happen, and take everything Augustine had in him. He’d never feasted on a creature so magically potent as a dragon. Maybe Augustine himself was the key to making Declan powerful enough to escape.

But Declan wasn’t a murderer. And when it came to fighting Augustine off, he didn’t have the bulk or strength. Augustine’s skin even rippled with silvery scales to protect himself, seemingly without thought.

Declan, well... he was pretty. Alluring. He had a tail and claws and horns, and none of them were built for real brutality. He could fight off a human in hand-to-hand combat, but other than that, he was whipped-cream temptation. Bad for you, maybe, but sweet as hell and harmless if enjoyed only occasionally.

The worst part about being an incubus was that even after Augustine tossed him on the bed, Declan felt a little thrill. It didn’t matter that he thought Augustine would hurt him. As long as Augustine received some sexual gratification from whatever he did, Declan could feed on that. He would even be able to convince himself it was fine, good, just another meal. Didn’t matter that Augustine didn’t know him or even care to, that they didn’t have a contract. An arrangement. A “yes.”

Declan could compartmentalize. He knew he could, because he’d done it. He hadn’t locked himself away for decades on a whim. He knew what he was, what he looked like, how his presence affected people. He’d seen his siblings get trapped in the dream, seen them learn at Elrith’s knee how to use and discard humans, never to get too attached, never to mistake sexual attraction for genuine feeling.

Declan had had his heart broken, certainly, and other parts besides. But right then, it was all too tempting to let Augustine take what he wanted, and use the opportunity himself to knock Augustine out and try to escape.

Maybe if he knocked on the door, Augustine would come. Declan would speak softly, whisper against his ear.

The dragon would melt. Declan knew he would.

He shivered and sank between the pillows, wishing he could dig his way through stone and to freedom instead.

For a while, he sat on the center of the enormous bed, gripped the sides of his robe, and hugged the cloth tight around himself. This one wasn’t so nice as the one from Augustine’s mother, the one Declan had ripped. But right then, all Declan needed was a barrier between himself and the rest of the world, and this would have to do.

When he finally caught his breath, Declan allowed himself time to look around the room. Like the rest of the cavern, it was well furnished. The bed was enormous and made of some sort of dark wood, with silk hanging from the four posts. The top blanket was a luxurious dark blue velvet, and under different circumstances, Declan would have been tempted to crawl under it and hide out forever.

He didn’t have time for that. If he was going to find a way out of here, it needed to happen before the dragon returned. Deep down, he knew seducing Augustine wasn’t a real option for him. Elrith would do it, but that was precisely why Declan couldn’t.

Despite tapestries hanging on the walls, curtains hung to make the space cozier, there were no windows in the bedroom. There were antique sideboards, ornate mirrors to reflect the dimmer lighting underground, trinkets on every surface.

Everything here was beautiful, picked out specifically and arranged just so. Was that what Augustine wanted from him? Another trinket to add to his collection?

No matter where Declan looked, he was unable to find a way out of the room. There was a bathroom attached, sure, but unless Declan could find a way to shapeshift and wiggle down the drain, that wouldn’t help him.

His only shot was the locked door with an angry dragon guarding it. Frankly, it seemed better to just stay put.

There was no escape, and when his search through drawers and behind cabinets offered no relief, panic started to crawl up Declan’s neck, tightening his throat, making it harder to breathe.

He needed water. That always calmed him down.

He hadn’t even gotten to finish his swim, but the ocean was beyond his reach. He’d have to find some other way to satisfy the hindbrain itch to swim to distant shores.

Declan, afraid to make noise and draw the attention of the beast that kept him, tiptoed the length of the room to the private bathroom. Before he turned on the water, he shut the door to the bedroom.

The tub was large and free standing, with clawed feet gilt in gold. It was made of white marble, cut through with specks of gold and glittering dark veins.

Water poured from the golden tap in a swift stream, warm as soon as Declan turned it on. With his robe still wrapped around him, he sat on the edge and dipped his feet into the wet.

That was good. All he needed, really. In the water, he’d be able to calm down.

The level rose up the side of the tub, and Declan slithered off the edge, right into the rippling bath. The robe lifted around him, tangling around his arms, but he didn’t care if it got wet. It was his protection. Like the water.

It really was easier to breathe here. He let his head fall back against the tub and stared at the closed door. Now, there was plenty between him and the pissed-off dragon. A robe, a tub full of water, two doors.

He sighed and tried to convince himself he was safe, because he was wet, and what did any nymph need other than a little water to float around in?

Nothing. Because Declan wasn’t hungry. Not in the slightest.