Page 5

Chapter 5

Jasper

H e wasn’t dead. When he’d fallen onto the forest floor, his useless cell phone clutched in one hand and a yellow flower in the other, Jasper had expected not to wake up again. As his body chilled and his thoughts became gossamer wisps that floated away, he figured it was just as well. He was an incubus who couldn’t eat; best to die like this than starving slow. And best to die than hurt somebody else.

But then he didn’t die. That awareness returned to him in stages—first the bittersweet taste in his mouth, then a heat pressed against his side, under one leg. Warmer, still, because it pressed into his skin directly. His shirt was gone, and someone sat behind him, breathing, a slow and steady rumble that Jasper felt inside his own ribcage.

Jasper opened his eyes on a man with a gorgeous jawline who smelled like sweet beard oil and smoke and... fish? His nose scrunched up.

The man’s breath huffed through his nose. “It doesn’t taste the best, but it’s a mite better than poison.”

“Poison?” Jasper croaked. His throat was sore, rough from coughing and whatever was in the cup the man had held to his lips.

“So you didn’t mean to eat those flowers?” There was a concerned furrow to the man’s dark brow. His face was square and serious, his beard thick—but not quite thick enough to obscure the fullness of his frowning lips. Jasper felt a little like he’d been caught at sixteen, sneaking in after a night of drinking, but he didn’t think Elrith would’ve cared this much.

“I—I did,” Jasper admitted with a grimace.

The stranger flinched, a rigid line against his side. His scowl darkened. Gently, he moved Jasper off him.

“You should eat something.” It was there, in the glint of his eyes and the man’s easy strength—this stranger wasn’t human. Or not quite.

The man got up, turning his back to him. Holy hell, he had to be twice as broad as Jasper, thick with muscle only obscured by a worn plaid flannel and practical jeans that looked like he could move around in them. Not like Jasper’s, plastered to his legs, that’d made scrambling over rocks a pain. He worried the hole on his thigh had gone from artful to blown out for his efforts.

There, at the counter of a kitchen on the far side of the room, the man ladled something into a bowl. Jasper felt the weight of his disappointment.

And what did he care for some lumberjack wanna-be’s disappointment in him, anyway? He hadn’t done anything. And still, an explanation tumbled out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

“I meant to eat them. But I didn’t mean to, uh, poison myself. I, um—well, my sister sent me to this witch, see, and she said that yellow flower could fix—fix me.” Jasper stumbled over the end, his voice breaking, chewing his lip. He hung his head, shrugged his shoulders, and scooted back against the guy’s pillows. When he sat up, it was almost like he was in control. Well, until he looked too closely at the man’s broad, rough hands. Those were the hands of a man who actually knew what control meant.

This was the guy’s bed. His scent was all over it. Jasper was in some random guy’s bed, half undressed, and not thoroughly fucked.

Something was wrong with that. Jasper was still starving—the flowers hadn’t done shit. Humans on the street couldn’t help gawking at him. And this guy was scowling and ladling soup, completely unbothered.

He came back over, holding the bowl out of Jasper’s reach.

“What do you mean, fix you?”

Jasper’s shoulders jerked up. “Personal.”

The man grunted and nodded. “Fair enough. Can you promise not to spill a drop of this in my bed?”

Jasper nodded. Already, he was pushing himself to get up though. No reason to make the guy uncomfortable. “I can?—”

A huge, warm, callused hand came down on his bare shoulder and held him still. “You need to rest.”

Staring up at him, Jasper swallowed. He nodded slowly, and when he sank back into the pillows, the man passed him the bowl. “Eat.”

Starving was starving, and even if soup wasn’t going to do much for his incubus problems, the command to stuff his face was convincing. Jasper took a bite. It was peppery and salty and rich. “It’s good. Thanks. I’m Jasper Jones.”

“Caleb.”

“Nice to meet you, Caleb.”

Caleb continued to watch him, but it wasn’t in the hungry, calculating way Jasper had come to expect. There were some things about his nature he couldn’t control, and his body wanted to survive even if he had moral quandaries with how . He should’ve been putting off enough pheromones to bring a guy as big as Caleb to his knees.

But something was broken. He could look Caleb over, imagine the strength of the arm that’d been wrapped around his shoulders only minutes before, and then meet those hazel eyes flecked with amber, and nothing happened. Caleb didn’t knock the bowl out of his hands, cover him with his enormous body, and fuck him down into the mattress.

He should have. Why wasn’t he trying?

What should’ve been a relief was, in fact, kind of terrifying. If Caleb didn’t want him, great, but the flowers hadn’t worked. He was still hungry. Starving. He wanted—well, his instincts wanted Caleb on top of him, shoving his legs apart, sating them both. Only now, he was too sick and too broken and not incubus enough to make a compelling case for that.

He was glad, and scared, and—well, he was probably going to die. That sucked.

Jasper didn’t believe Poppy had meant to poison him. Sasha had called the witch her friend, and witches and demons usually got along. Or, well, if they didn’t get along, he doubted any would willingly make enemies with Elrith.

“Can I see my phone?” Jasper asked.

The guy leaned over and handed it to him from a side table. Jasper pulled up the screenshot Poppy had taken.

“Is this what I ate?” He held the phone up in front of Caleb. Fuck if Jasper knew anything about the flora and fauna surrounding Lyric, but if Caleb lived out here, he probably knew.

“That’s it.”

Jasper frowned. “And it’s always poison? To everybody? All kinds of—” He waved his hand, indicating what they were—supernatural.

“That I know of, yeah.”

“Oh. Well... shit.” There was some kind of explanation, he was sure, but he wasn’t going to find it foggy headed, sick, and maybe dying.

But if he was going out, he could fill at least his stomach. He set the phone aside and dug into the soup while Caleb watched. It was kind of awkward, but Caleb nodded, satisfied, when Jasper passed it back empty.

“I’m, um... still hungry,” Jasper admitted. He was testing things, maybe pushing too far. What would he do if Caleb grabbed him by the neck and kissed him? He didn’t really want Caleb to need him the way most people did—well, he also maybe didn’t want to die. Sucked that he had to hurt people or give up. Somewhere in there should’ve been a third option, one where he could shoot Caleb a sly smile, get what he needed, and have that be okay.

Caleb only nodded again. He moved to drop the bowl in the sink. “I need to go to the store. Pantry’s sparse. I’ll bring you back something. Any requests?”

Jasper chewed his lip for a second. “Do you have a phone charger?” He’d left his back at the trail’s start in his Tesla.

With a jerk of his head toward the nightstand, Caleb pointed it out. “Match yours?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Great! Other than that... maybe a toothbrush? My mouth tastes kind of off.”

Again, Caleb nodded. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who talked a lot when he didn’t have to. Maybe he was out there alone a lot. It didn’t seem like anyone else stayed in this cabin with him.

“And, uh, Oreos? And milk! Oreos are shit without milk.”

Caleb cocked a brow at him. Okay, Oreos weren’t the healthiest option, but who cared? Human food wasn’t really sustenance to incubi. Jasper didn’t process it the same way, could eat a pack of Oreos for breakfast every day and still be perfectly bangable. Unchanging. Devilishly attractive.

“Please? I’m having an off day.”

“Oreos and milk,” Caleb grumbled.

And too soon, he was grabbing his keys and leaving Jasper alone in his cabin to ponder just how entirely fucked he was.

Or wasn’t.