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Chapter 11

Malcolm

I t wasn’t the first time Malcolm had gone to sleep covered in sweat and come and woken next to a beautiful man.

It was, however, the first time he’d done so in a goddamn cave.

A cave .

It was like something from one of Jasper’s television shows where the improbably buff heroes found themselves constantly having to remove their shirts and... okay, no, it wasn’t anything like that. Not that Malcolm was out of shape, but really, those men were like underwear models who fought bad guys on the side.

Kostas, on the other hand.

He was a little like that.

He wasn’t what Malcolm would have called enormous, but he was muscular in a way Malcolm would never be. He only vaguely remembered being carted through the woods like a useless sack of potatoes, but seriously. He’d be lucky to lift the siren off the ground, let alone carry him for gods only knew how long.

He lifted his head enough to get a look at Kostas as he slept, and frankly, it was almost overwhelming.

Overwhelming in a strange way. Malcolm was used to looking at a mostly naked person and wanting. Wanting to climb on top of them, to get them off, to feel the delicious rush of completion and satiety. It was part of being an incubus, that constant hunger.

Except, he wasn’t all that hungry right then.

He’d expected to wake ravenous after being injured the day before and then, well... the sex had been good, but it had only been one round, after all. One round was barely enough to hold him over on a good day. When trying to heal a wound, one round was barely an appetizer.

But there he was, feeling as sated as he’d been since the time he’d tumbled into an all-night foursome. Fivesome? Hard to remember a lot about that night other than exploring hands and mouths and one orgasm tumbling into another. One tiny orgasm with Kostas had somehow left him in the same state. How powerful were sirens?

Regardless of how it had happened, when he looked at Kostas, at those long, lean lines of muscle, deeply tanned by the sun and so very smooth—the want wasn’t the kind he was used to. He didn’t want to devour him. He just... wanted.

Wanted those piercing eyes on him, those callused hands, that perfect smooth voice telling him he was wanted. And only him. Not a beautiful incubus or any willing bed partner who was handy. Just Malcolm.

Tentatively, he leaned in and kissed Kostas’s shoulder.

Not to get anything out of it, just... just to see how it felt. It was nice. Smooth and so, so warm, with a hint of salt that reminded him of the sea more than of sweat. It reminded him of Kostas singing to him when he’d been unconscious the day before.

He didn’t know if demons were as weak to siren mind control as humans, but he could imagine why humans might dash themselves against rocks to get to the owner of such a voice.

He trailed a line of kisses across the taut pectoral muscle, stopping to lave the nipple with his tongue and watch it tighten under his ministrations, a perfect bud that he’d like nothing more than to nibble on. Instead, he pulled back with a sigh, reluctantly. He didn’t want to stop, but he couldn’t just molest the man in his sleep.

Leaning back into the strong arm Kostas had left around him all night, he looked up into wide-open teal eyes. One brow was quirked in his direction, and he flushed under the scrutiny. “I was just...”

“I noticed,” Kostas agreed, his voice a little rougher first thing in the morning.

Somehow, even that was attractive.

Was nothing about the damnable man unattractive ?

His voice was wry and unimpressed as he went on, one corner of his lips turned down. “And as much as I’d love to feed you again, we both need to make it back to civilization. Not just you.”

Quicker than a whipcrack, Malcolm pushed away from him, scooting all the way across the cave so that they weren’t even touching anymore. “I wasn’t trying to feed off you,” he insisted.

But how the hell was he supposed to explain what he had been doing?

Sorry, I just had the urge to touch you ?

Ugh, how pathetic was that? Elrith would have been ashamed of him for even thinking it. Thank fuck he hadn’t said it out loud.

So instead of trying to explain, Malcolm did what he did best. He donned his emotional armor and turned away. “Not everything is about you, siren. I was still half asleep. I was... thinking of someone else.”

Lovely. Not even he believed that lie, the siren surely wouldn’t.

But somehow, it worked. Kostas scoffed and shook his head as he pushed off the ground. “I should have known better than to think an incubus would give a damn who they were fucking. Any dick will do, right?”

Malcolm shrugged. “Maybe not any dick, but there are certainly plenty of them out there. An incubus has to eat, you know.”

Kostas stood and stretched, turning away from Malcolm carelessly, like it cost him nothing.

Because it didn’t, naturally.

And that was the way Malcolm wanted it. Everyone turned away eventually, so it was best if Kostas did so before Malcolm had a chance to get pathetically attached. It wasn’t as though any of this meant anything. Trekking into the woods to save Malcolm, carrying him for miles, fucking him to heal his wound.

Nope.

Nothing.

It had been years since he’d met anyone who made him think he wanted to get attached. Arrogantly, he’d thought he had outgrown the silly humanish need for affection from anyone. All he needed was a good hard fuck, right?

Right.

The look of worship in Kostas’s eyes at the sight of him half naked last night hadn’t mattered at all. It had been fine. It had fed him, the siren’s hunger for his body.

That was the only thing that mattered. The only thing that ever mattered.

Feelings were for children and humans. He pushed up onto his feet, scrambled into his disgusting slacks, tossing the panties away as a lost cause—too bad, he’d liked those ones—and straightening to look at the siren. “Let’s get going, then. Both of us need to get back to civilization, after all.”

Malcolm surely didn’t want to be trapped in the filthy, disgusting woods. Even if he wasn’t sure why he was going back, or what he was going back to.