Bound to the Incubus: A Paranormal Villain Romance by Nyla Clarke

Bound to the Incubus: A Paranormal Villain Romance by Nyla Clarke

Author:Nyla Clarke [Clarke, Nyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-09T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 20

Vane

The night is dark and cool, clouds scudding along the treetops, reminding me, mocking me. I strain to see stars but the barrier prevents it.

Frustration hums. I search through the dark, looking for a fight. Unfortunately the scavengers are staying well back now. They’ve learned their lesson, at long last.

Frustration tinged with remorse, not my own, hovers behind me. Her indecisive energy tugs at me, distracting my attention. The usual urge to pick apart those feelings draws me in, the mystery of them enchanting me as always. It’s annoying. For once I would like to wallow in my own pique without foreign influence.

It’s impossible to ignore though. I sigh.

“Join me, little witch. The lurking is insufferable.”

The door opens wider. Bare feet pad on wooden planks, soft, inaudible to human ears. “Is it safe?”

I close my eyes, savoring that rich voice, the way it melds so perfectly with the velvet dark. It’s an anchor against my darker urges, tempering my hunger.

I know what she’s asking about. I know she’s referencing the threat of the scavengers, not me. It should be gratifying. Instead, I find myself irritated that she doesn’t recognize the danger she puts herself in by trusting me this easily.

One shoulder shrugs. “Safe enough.”

“Those things — the shadows — haven’t been around in a while.”

No battles have raged for several nights now but it’s the first time she’s ventured onto the porch. I’m surprised it’s taken her this long to ask about it.

She steps up beside me, peering into the dark as if her less sensitive eyes could make out the lurking figures I’m tracking with ease.

“They’re craven things, at heart. They’ll respect my claim now that you’ve embraced it.”

“Why are you out here, then?”

That she doesn’t argue with my claim to her is ample evidence of her trepidation. The caution she’s taking in her approach after our spat should please me. Instead it sparks an ire underlaid by a nagging sense of guilt. I push it away.

“I needed space.”

Her arms wrap around her torso at my curt tone and I succumb to the urge to soften. I’m annoyed with her, but I don’t truly want to chase her off.

“There’s no better cure for claustrophobia than the night air.”

She bites her lip, looking doubtfully at the nightscape hovering just out of our reach. “I never liked the dark.”

That makes me smile. “Nor should you, fragile human that you are. Your species’ fear of the shadows is well founded — as you now know. But I’m nocturnal by nature.” Memories of gliding silent and bright above the cloud cover turn my humor wistful. “And don’t forget, the night brings stars.”

Again I strain against the barrier, edging out as far as I can in the hopes of a glimpse beyond the porch cover. Again, I fall back with a sigh, disappointed. Decades without a clear view of the open sky. It’s a wonder my sanity has remained intact.

Amalia is watching me, curiosity and sadness whispering at the edges of my mind. I turn to face her front-on, daring her to pity me.



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