Knotted By The Incubus (Knotted By Cupid #1)

Prologue

The Dream

Heat. That’s all I know. Heat, big, rough hands, and a body pressed against mine in the dark.

I can’t see him. I never can. Just shadows and sensation, the weight of him everywhere, the smell of smoke and leather, and something darker… Something that makes my omega purr and my thighs clench.

“There you are.”

His voice rumbles through me like thunder. I don’t know his name. Don’t know his face. But I know that voice. It’s been haunting me for months.

“Yes, I’m here,” I whisper.

His hands find my hips. They’re huge. So big, they span my waist like I’m some small woman. He pulls me against him, and I feel how hard he is, how desperate, and my whole body melts.

“I need…” he groans.

“I know.” I arch into him. “Take it. Take what you need.”

He lets out a low, feral growl that vibrates through my chest. Then his mouth is on my neck, my collarbone, the curve of my breast. I can’t see, but I can feel everything. His lips, his tongue, the scrape of something sharp that makes me gasp.

Fangs maybe?

Maybe I should be scared. But I’m not. I’m so wet I’m dripping, my slick coating my thighs, and when he inhales against my skin, he groans like he’s dying for a taste.

“You smell like heaven, little omega. Like everything I ever wanted.”

“Then stop teasing and fuck me, alpha.”

Another growl vibrates through his broad chest as his hand slides between my legs and I cry out as thick fingers find my clit, circle, and press. He knows exactly how to touch me. Knows my body like he’s memorized it. How is that possible when we’ve never…

“Come for me.”

It’s not a request. It’s a command, low, dark and dripping with power, and my body obeys before my brain even catches up. My orgasm crashes through me blindingly, leaving me shaking, gasping, reaching for him…

But, like always, I wake up alone.

* * *

Destiny

My eyes fly open. I’m panting. My sheets are soaked with sweat and slick … and my clit is still throbbing from the ghost of my orgasm.

“Fuck.”

I stare at my ceiling, heart pounding, body aching. The dream is already fading, like smoke through my fingers, but the feeling stays. The hunger. The emptiness.

This has been happening for months.

The same faceless shadow man. The same desperate need and soul-shaking pleasure that ruin me for anything real.

I roll over and check my phone. 5:47 AM. My alarm doesn’t go off for another hour, but there’s no point trying to go back to sleep. I’m too wound up, too restless, too fucking HORNY.

I could take care of it myself. My toys are right there in my nightstand drawer. But I already know it won’t be enough. It never is. Not anymore. Not since the dreams started.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I drag myself out of bed, peel off my ruined panties, and head for the shower. I need cold water, coffee, and to stop thinking about a man who doesn’t even exist.

* * *

By the time I get to my shop, I almost feel human again.

‘Sugar her gaze getting lost. “Fine as hell, Marcus? Abs for days, Marcus…”

I nod, shaking my head through a small laugh. “Yeah, and he kissed me and I felt absolutely nothing. It was like kissing a mannequin. All I could think was… he doesn’t smell right. Doesn’t feel right.”

Keke is quiet for a moment. Then she shakes her head. “Babe, you’re comparing real men to a dream.”

I sigh. “I know.”

There’s concern in her voice when she adds, “That’s insane.”

“I KNOW.” I throw my hands up.

“Honey, you gave up on dating because nobody measures up to someone who doesn’t exist.”

I set my spatula down and stare at my bestie. The woman who’s like a sister to me. The only family I have left. “What do you want me to do, Keish? Mate some random alpha who does nothing for me because at least he’s real?” I shake my head. “I can’t…”

She squeezes my hand. “Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something.”

“Yeah? That I’m dick-starved and delusional?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling again. “Or that you’re waiting for someone.”

I snort. “Yeah, someone who doesn’t exist.”

She nudges me, winking. “It’s Valentine’s. Have a little faith.”

* * *

Of course, our entire day is complete chaos. More orders than we could ever fulfill, last-minute requests from panicked partners who forgot all about the holiday until the very last moment. I smile, throw in extra truffles, and try my best to make each item special.

By 9 PM the rush has mostly died down, and Keisha goes home. I’m alone in the kitchen, working on another batch when I feel a prickle run down my spine and hair rising on my arms. My omega, who’s been restless all day, suddenly sits up.

Something’s coming.

I pause with my whisk in hand. The shop is quiet; outside,the street is empty.

But I feel… something. Some kinda pull. Like a hook behind my navel, tugging.

I shake it off and keep working. It’s probably just those dreams messing with my head, my omega being dramatic because my heat is coming…

Then I look up and my entire world stops.

* * *

Rahel

I wake up hard enough to pound nails. Again.

I lie in the dark, jaw clenched, cock throbbing, trying to remember how to breathe. The dream is already slipping away, but her scent stays. Fuck, it always does… chocolate, brown sugar and the sweetest slick I’ve never fucking tasted.

I’ve been alive for five hundred years. Five hundred years of feeding on lust, drowning in bodies, taking whatever I wanted. And none of it compares to a woman who might not even exist.

I drag a hand down my face and sit up. My room at our MC compound is spartan: a bed, a dresser, weapons. I don’t need much these days. Don’t fucking want much. Just her.

The dreams started six months ago. Out of nowhere, this omega started appearing in my sleep.

I can never see her face. Just shadows, curves for fucking days, and the way she sounds when she comes.

But I know the fucking feel of her. Know her scent.

The shape of her body under my hands… like I’ve been touching her for centuries.

And I haven’t fed since that first dream.

My brothers think I’ve lost it. Fuck, they’re probably right. An incubus who doesn’t feed is an incubus who dies. We need sexual energy like humans need food. Going without is slow starvation and death to us.

But every time I try to feed … every time I find a willing female and try to take what I need … I smell the wrong perfume. Feel the wrong curves. Hear the wrong voice.

And I can’t do it.

She ruined me. A dream. A goddamn fantasy. A woman who might just be my mind breaking after five centuries.

And I’d rather starve than settle for less… fucking pathetic.

“You look like shit. "

I grunt at my brother, Zeke, as I walk into the clubhouse kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with knowing eyes.

I grumble, “I’m fine.”

“Bro, you haven’t fed in fucking months.”

“I said I’m fine,” I snarl back.

“And I said, you look like shit.” He pushes off the counter, stepping right in front of me. “We’re worried. Whatever the fuck this is…”

“Drop it,” I growl.

“An incubus who doesn’t feed is an incubus who…”

I move before he can finish, slamming him against the wall with my forearm across his throat. My eyes are glowing … I can feel the heat rising through my body, my shadows flickering at the edges of my vision.

“I said. Drop. It.”

Zeke doesn’t flinch. Bastard’s known me too long to be scared. And he’s just as fucking dangerous as me. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’s a lot I’m not telling you. We’re not fucking besties.”

“Rahel.”

I release him and step back, letting my shadows settle and the glow fade. I’m so tired. So fucking hungry.

“We riding or what?”, I ask flatly.

Zeke eyes me for a long moment. Then he nods, letting it go for now. “Yeah. We riding.”

Valentine’s night is heaven for us. The city reeks of lust. It’s everywhere… dates, hookups, lonely people hoping, couples fucking. The energy is so thick I can taste it on my tongue, and my inner beast is fucking clawing at me to fucking feed.

But I can’t. Because no one is ever fucking her.

* * *