I strolled through the streets of the city, enjoying the view of the coquettish women drinking coffee at the brasseries and pretending to ignore me. Not a chance.

The morning sun worshipped me, bathing my every move in light that attracted each female who saw me. I knew they stared after me wherever I went, my charm floating off me in gentle waves like the finest of colognes. It was part of the gifts the incubus imparted, and one I’d enjoyed for centuries. I could take my pick of any woman on the rue, but I felt like being choosey today. After all, I’d bedded three women last night and didn’t need another at the moment, though, as always, one more couldn’t hurt.

I ambled past the dress shops and patisseries, winking at the girls as I went. The incubus strutted inside me, content with itself and enjoying the menu. My window-shopping always seemed to please the incubus and whet its appetite for more. And I was up to the challenge. Like picking a fine wine, I enjoyed sampling all different vintages and rolling them around on my tongue. The angry looks from the lovers and husbands did nothing to stop me, for if they wanted a fight, I’d happily given them one. And after it was over and I’d won, I’d bed their females right in front of them.

As I continued toward the Seine, something caught my eye. It was a young woman, hidden in the shadows of Sacré-Cœur, weeping into her palms. Her dress was the purest white, her amber hair a brilliant brush stroke on the snowy palette. I approached, more out of curiosity than the desire to comfort her. Hearing me, she slowly turned and wiped the tears on her sleeve, her brown eyes full of misery. But one look at me had the corners of the girl’s mouth turning up slightly, a shy smile emerging from her angelic face.

I gave a dashing bow, sweeping my hat low under me before straightening and asking her name.

“Delia.” That shy smile played on her lips once again. The incubus stretched languidly, already intrigued by this new game. It smelled the innocence on her and wanted nothing more than to taste it.

“Can I render any assistance?” I handed her my handkerchief and calculated the speed with which I could get the young woman into my bed. Now. The incubus flitted about, gleeful at the opportunity that had just presented itself.

Delia shook her head demurely and did her best to dry her eyes. I offered my arm, and she took it a little too eagerly. Already mine.

“Do tell me what’s the matter, ma chère.” I guided her toward my chateau.

After a slight hesitation, the girl said, “I-I just was married. To a man I don’t love.”

The tears began anew, but I wrapped an arm around her waist, ever leading her toward my bed. The incubus was practically prancing with delight—it had always enjoyed stealing women right out from under other men, and this was a rare case. She was a gift bought but not yet enjoyed, and I would make sure I’d torn off the wrapping paper before her new husband got the chance.

She stopped and looked into my eyes, seeking comfort I knew she’d never find there, though I feigned it with a concerned look. “Ma chère?”

“He’ll be cruel to me. I know it. After the ceremony, he struck me for speaking to one of my friends. He said he owns me. Said he’d kill me if I even looked at another. Th-that’s why I ran off.” She was so young and innocent, yet the look in her eyes was full of the worst kind of knowledge. It was as if Delia knew she would never be happy again, but I didn’t bother myself with feelings.

“I’m here now. I’ll protect you from him.” I had made so many empty promises over the years, they came out with the ease of the truth, and this one was no different.

With that said, I urged her onward. She allowed me to lead her through the gates of my chateau and into my bedroom. She was acting on her own free will—I was only able to influence her desires. But that was neither here nor there. I was only interested in one thing. And I would have it tonight.

* * *

I stumbled through the streets like a drunk, the glowing streetlamps doing nothing to illuminate my way. All I saw was darkness pierced by two burning eyes—the incubus controlled me now. The demon forced me to continue making my way to Le Chabanais, Paris’s most notorious bordello. I desperately wanted to stop, turn around, or just die in the street, but the incubus urged me on, refusing to grant me the reprieve I desired. Need, need, need.

I’d starved it for over two weeks, refusing to give in to its vile nature, no matter the torment the incubus wreaked upon me. Running its nails down my skull and whispering to me, dark promises of retribution if I did not feed it, and soon. But I wanted no more to do with it, though I couldn’t—wouldn’t—take my own life to end the torment, because I deserved it. Because of what happened to her.

Continuing through the streets, drawn unerringly to what the incubus desired, I still mourned her—the innocent girl with the guileless brown eyes from whom I’d stolen everything. I detested myself and the incubus still more. But the incubus wanted to live, and the only way it could do so was with a powerful jolt of sexual energy.

Though my body was numb, my mind was painfully aware and replayed the memory of that night over and over again. How I took the girl to my home and claimed her, giving her untold pleasure and adding her to my collection of conquests. Afterward, I told my usual lies—“I’ll call on you tomorrow” being the prime one. Her angelic face did nothing to stir the least bit of remorse or regret in my stony breast, for she was nothing more than another snack for the incubus to enjoy. She had been innocent, and still was really, but I didn’t have time to explain the ways of the world to her. Besides, she would learn soon enough when I never saw her again, no matter if she begged, cried, or did any of the things my past jilted lovers had tried.

So, with a kiss and a stroke of her lovely amber hair, I shuffled her out the door and into the arms of her waiting husband—who wasted no time in slitting her throat.

The memory was seared into my heart, my head, as if I had walked through fire with no chance of coming through unscathed. The look in her eyes, the terror. Something so beautiful that was marred by a vileness that lived within me, that was me.

“If I can’t have you, no one can!” The man screamed into the girl’s terrified face.

Before I could stop it, something deep within me let out a wail of agony and I ran to her. It was as if my humanity had awakened after hundreds of years watching me sink slowly into cruelty and evil.

I felt it in my breast as I rushed out onto the street. But it was too late. Delia’s husband made sure she would bleed out, cutting deeply before turning the knife on himself and doing the same. As I cradled her against me, her beautiful face drained of its color, the amber hair almost garish against her pale skin. The light left her eyes, and I knew I’d extinguished her innocent soul as surely as if I’d wielded the knife myself.

Delia’s husband sank to his knees next to his wife, the blood creating a deep crimson stain on his white tunic. Then he pointed the blade at me and gurgled his dying word, “You.” The man fixed me with an intense stare until he was carried to the depths of Hades.

You. The word reverberated in my mind even now as I slunk past the residents of Paris. I had caused her death. And that night, as the pair died in front of my eyes, I vowed I would do everything within my power to deny the incubus. My humanity demanded nothing less. The incubus screamed inside me, and its sense of betrayal permeated the bonds that held us together. But I wouldn’t listen.

I locked myself in my chateau, demanding Bartholomew prevent me from leaving or any females from entering. I’d made it for over a week, the incubus relentlessly torturing me, driving me mad with its desire for flesh. I didn’t care that I’d die right along with the incubus, but I couldn’t bear the thought of what I’d done. The look of horror on her face as the knife violated her delicate throat. And the husband—his accusation ringing in my ears ever since that night.

Now, on this cold, moonless evening, I found myself carried along by the demon within. It wanted to save itself, but I could also sense it wanted to save me. That didn’t change anything though. I still refused to give it what it desperately desired, no matter how badly it wanted to keep us alive. In one final effort, the demon took over, forcing me onto my current course and giving me no escape. I was trapped, as the incubus usually was, inside a prison of flesh and bones.

Finally spying the wrought-iron bust that signaled the front of Le Chabanais, the incubus used what little was left of its strength to hoist us up the steps and into the lobby, where we were instantly set upon by the girls within. Their kisses and caresses began strengthening the incubus almost immediately, but as always, it needed more. Desperate for release, the incubus chose the closest female and began leading her to the nearest room, but it was interrupted. A tall blonde with dark green eyes had seized my hand and led me down the dim hallway. In a blink, I was on the bed with the blonde straddling me.

I tried to fight it, struggled against the incubus and the blonde.

A swirl of fire lit her eyes as she pushed me down. “Don’t worry. Let Corinne give you what you need.”