Chapter 1. Lochran
“Lochran,” a smooth, velvet voice called from the shadows. Devlin was in his natural form, sans his shadow horns and tail. Tall and broad, Devlin had chestnut hair that glowed like embers when the light hit it, and dark, whiskey-colored eyes. He looked like if he put a hat on and took off his shirt, he could be a cover model for an erotic rancher novel.
In my natural form, I had inky black hair and violet eyes. But, while roguishly handsome, I certainly had my flaws. I definitely wasn’t the cover-model kind. A chipped left canine, a scar on my temple that caused my hair to grow in the wrong direction (which was why I now wore it cropped at the sides), and a crooked shadow wing to name a few. But our natural forms were insignificant for the most part. When we appeared to mortals—the ones who wanted to fuck us, that is—we took on whatever form they most desired. The number of times I had appeared as a variation of Henry Cavill was sickening. The only time we didn’t have to change our form was for our mate .
Which was the reason why I, and most of the other incubi and the handful of succubi of our clan, had returned to our shadow realm. Tomorrow was Samhain, the one night of the year that our fated mate could summon us.
And I desperately hoped that my witch would summon me this year.
I dropped into the seat beside Devlin. His warm eyes fell on mine as he mused, “I had started to think that you wouldn’t be coming to the summoning, Lochran.”
I reached out toward the empty table, a glass of bourbon materializing in my hand. That’s one thing I loved about the shadow realm—think it, and it happened.
One would think that would make for an interesting realm, a place of endless possibilities. But the reality was most of us were that exhausted from searching for our food that by the time we got back to our realm, we couldn’t be bothered getting creative. The bar that I sat in right now was a prime example. It was based on a mortal dive bar, except the walls were bare, there were only a handful of tables, and the jukebox didn’t even play a real song, just a soft, indistinguishable melody. A haunting blue light barely illuminated the bar, not reaching the depthless shadows cloaking the corners of the room. It was as if the demon who had first imagined this bar had only thought as far as needing a place to come and gather his lonely thoughts and hadn’t had the energy to think of the decor.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said, downing the bourbon in one, only for the glass to refill itself. My stomach gave an almighty rumble, and Devlin eyed me knowingly.
“You still got the whole ‘ sex ban’ thing going?” Devlin asked.
Ah, the sex ban.
A few years ago, I decided I would not have penetrative sex again until I’d met my mate. I mean, I still had to feed, so of course I had to do other things. But penetrative sex? For me, that was the most intimate kind of sex, and while I was starving and exhausted literally all the time, it felt good to hold something back. It made me feel like I had a choice.
“You’re one to talk,” I muttered.
“Actually, I’ve given up on the whole mate thing,” Devlin said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Devlin had been just as desperate as me to be summoned by his mate. It was all we’d talked about for years. And Samhain after Samhain we remained here, unsummoned by our witches.
Devlin shrugged. “I dunno what’s changed for me. I think the longer I’ve waited, the more desperate I’ve become. It was almost becoming an obsession. I think I’m going to take a break from waiting. Maybe just wander the mortal realm for a while. Focus on just me, y’know?”
I felt a twinge of pity for my friend.
The mating bond was both a blessing and a curse.
A few centuries ago, a bargain had been facilitated by the goddess Hecate between our clan of incubi and a coven of witches. It was welcomed wholeheartedly by our clan. Finding your fated mate out in the world was a tough task for any magical creature, so the opportunity for them to simply be able to cast a spell when they were ready to summon us was too good to pass up.
Most were summoned within the first year or two of their mates coming of age, but both Devlin and I had been born to the shadows twenty-seven years ago, meaning our witches had had nine years to summon us and yet had decided not to.
I placed a hand on Devlin’s shoulder. “I think some time focusing on yourself would be good.”
Devlin’s lips pulled into a smile that didn’t match the sorrowful look in his eye. He downed his drink and stood up. “Well, I guess there’s no time like the present.” With that, he disappeared into nothingness.
I sent a silent prayer to the god Erebus for my friend and thought maybe he had the right idea. If I wasn’t summoned tomorrow evening, perhaps I might take a leaf out of Devlin’s book.