Incubus Caged Read online

  Incubus Caged

  Incubus Series Book 1

  A. H. Lee

  Published by: Pavonine Books

  Cover by Starla Huchton

  © 2017 by A. H. Lee. All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This material may not be reproduced, modified, or distributed without the express prior permission of the copyright holder. Artwork is displayed by agreement with the artists. All artists hold the copyrights to their work.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1. Dressed for Dinner

  Chapter 2. The Sorcerer’s Table

  Chapter 3. Appetizer

  Chapter 4. Entree

  Chapter 5. Dessert

  Chapter 6. Mal

  Chapter 7. The Sorcerer’s Library

  Chapter 8. The Duke

  Chapter 9. A New Assignment

  Chapter 10. Prince Dustin

  Chapter 11. Lying

  Chapter 12. The Library Again

  Chapter 13. The River and the Waterfall

  Chapter 14. Not a Good Person

  Chapter 15. Demonology

  Chapter 16. Midnight Revels

  Chapter 17. The Orgy

  Chapter 18. Bright Magic

  Chapter 19. Empathy and a Conscience

  Chapter 20. Azrael Off-Duty

  Chapter 21. A Date in a Pocket World

  Chapter 22. Bound

  Chapter 23. Normal Things

  Chapter 24. Trouble in the Tower

  Chapter 25. Cold

  Chapter 26. Lies of Omission

  Chapter 27. Reprimand

  Chapter 28. Tod Gives Advice

  Chapter 29. Confessions and Seduction

  Chapter 30. Worth It

  Chapter 31. Lord Azrael’s Idea of a Date

  Chapter 32. Intimacy and Threat

  Chapter 33. Pitiful

  Chapter 34. Sex and Magic

  Chapter 35. An Incubus in the Family

  Chapter 36. Your Mistake

  Chapter 37. Unsolvable

  Chapter 38. Last Time

  Chapter 39. Into the River

  Chapter 40. Shadow Lands

  Chapter 41. True Names

  Chapter 42. Fly Away Home

  Chapter 43. Jessica

  Chapter 44. On the Astral Plane

  Chapter 45. The Bear

  Chapter 46. Human

  About the Author

  Chapter 1. Dressed for Dinner

  Jessica Charles stared in horror at the gown she was to wear to her first dinner party on the Shrouded Isle. Hardly a gown, really. More like a slip. The thin, satin fabric would cling to her breasts and show every curve. The slender straps seemed likely to fall from her shoulders and the skirt would come only to mid-thigh.

  Jessica shut her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. In her hometown, women wore trousers on casual occasions and long dresses to fashionable events. Bare legs in public were simply not acceptable. Jessica had known, when she’d been chosen as tribute to the Shrouded Isle, that sex would be expected of her, but she’d not anticipated such a public display of her body.

  I could refuse. The summons had included an option to refuse.

  Yet something about the gown fascinated her. It was the color of pearl—a shimmering iridescence that she’d never seen in fabric. Jessica felt naughty for even looking at it. She reached out to touch the slip of a dress, lying there on the bed in this strange, opulent room. The fabric was cool and sleek beneath her fingers.

  Slowly, Jessica stripped off her traveling clothes—a blouse and attractively pleated trousers—and pulled the smooth, shimmering gown over her head. It fit as though it had been tailored for her, and the thin straps did not fall from her shoulders as readily as she’d feared.

  Jessica looked at herself in the huge, gilt-framed mirror that filled a quarter of one wall. She had a slim figure at twenty-two. Her thick, dark blond hair lay coiled at the nape of her neck in a traditional bun. The dress had come with a note that said “hair to be left down,” but Jessica lifted her chin and glared at the mirror, a spark in her blue eyes. I will wear my hair as I wish. It belongs to me.

  She’d made certain that her virginity belonged to her as well. The night before the sorcerer’s liaison arrived to claim the tribute, Jessica had crept from her bedroom and thrown rocks at Andrew’s window until he came out. He’d been delighted, surprised, desperate, fumbling in the dark beneath the stars. She could still feel his hands on her generous breasts, his breath hot on her throat. He’d lifted her skirts, but seemed afraid to actually touch her. She’d been surprised that she’d wanted him to, had almost grabbed his hand and forced it between her legs.

  Instead, he’d pressed their hips together. She’d been curious about his member, but had not seen it in the dark. She had not even had time to touch it before he buried it between her legs. His erection had pressed against her entrance—at first pleasurably, but then with increasing discomfort. Finally, there came a pinching sensation. Jessica had cried out and so had Andrew. Then it had been over.

  He seemed satisfied, and she did not have the heart to tell him that she had not shared his satisfaction, that she had cried out in pain, not pleasure. Necking is better, she thought. Jessica knew plenty about necking.

  But, she thought, at least I became a woman on my own terms with a person I chose. No matter what Lord Azrael does to me, he cannot take what I have already given.

  Jessica thought of Azrael and shivered. “Spider,” some called him and “King-Maker.” “Azrael of the Shroud,” the most powerful sorcerer in the kingdoms of the Shattered Sea. To his face, they called him only “my lord.”

  Jessica knew little of the Shrouded Isle, save that it lay at the nexus of magical energy and kept peace for all who paid tribute. Insoluble political disagreements had found resolution within these walls. Warring kings, dukes, and chieftains sat down together with Lord Azrael and somehow overcame their differences. No kingdom that received protection from the Shrouded Isle had ever been overrun, either by their neighbors or by demons or faeries. This was worth a great deal, including a yearly tribute of “courtiers.”

  No one was taken against their will, of course. A young man or woman could refuse the invitation, though few did. Courtiers served for four years and returned home with lavish gifts. Many yearned to be chosen. Jessica’s mother, however, had wept when the news came. Jessica didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was excited. Or maybe just curious. “Everyone knows that Lord Azrael has the largest library in the world, Mother. Think of all the books I’ll read!”

  Her mother had looked at her sadly. “Sorcerers do not send for pretty young women to read books, darling.”

  Yes, well, I’m curious about that part, too, thought Jessica, but she didn’t say so.

  Most of those selected were nubile youths, although there were exceptions. It was said that Azrael had exotic tastes. It was also said that he entertained the many visitors to his court with the pleasures of the flesh. Nobody would have dared to call the Shrouded Isle a brothel, but there were certain similarities.

  Jessica wondered whether she was to be given to one of the dignitaries this evening. Surely not Azrael himself. Jessica knew that she was attractive, but no more so than the dozens of other beauties who’d come from lands near and far. She’d only met Azrael once—a tall, raven-haired man with pale skin and almond-shaped eyes so dark they seemed black.

  He had a guardian beast that was always with him—a great black panther with gem-like green eyes and a heavy silver collar. People said that the beast could talk, although Jessica had never heard it. In truth, she was more afraid of the cat than of Azrael. The animal was as large as a pony. Fortunately, she did not think she would see it very often, as she doubted she would spend much time in
Azrael’s presence.

  A knock sounded at the door. Jessica took a deep breath and smoothed the short skirt around her thighs. Time to find out how Lord Azrael does employ “pretty young women.”

  Chapter 2. The Sorcerer’s Table

  A man of roughly Jessica’s own age stood at her door, dressed in spotless blue and white livery. He had striking red hair, chocolate-brown eyes, and innumerable freckles. “I’ve come to fetch you for dinner, miss.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his sinewy throat. “I am to tell you that your purpose is to provide pleasure this evening. Nothing asked of you will be painful. Are you amenable to the assignment, miss?”

  Jessica stared at him, but the young man had fixed his eyes on her left shoulder.

  “Do I…get to know the details?”

  “Lord Azrael likes surprises, miss. However, you are permitted to refuse.”

  Jessica considered. She had already prepared herself for something sensual. It was a relief to know that it wouldn’t hurt. She tried to summon a relaxed smile. “Alright.”

  “Lord Azrael also wishes you to know that, if at any point in the evening you wish to leave, you may walk out, and no one will stop you or punish you. You will not be restrained this evening. However, as long as you choose to stay, your consent is assumed.”

  Jessica cocked her head. “Alright…”

  The young man kept his eyes carefully raised above the swell of her breasts. She tried not to stare at his shapely backside as he turned to lead her down the hall. This was difficult. His trousers were pleasingly snug.

  Jessica felt a prickle of embarrassment at the alien sensation of air against her bare legs. Lord Azrael hadn’t even sent shoes, and she padded along barefoot over the cold marble and lush rugs, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The sorcerer’s palace was a maze of elegant rooms, carved and painted ceilings, gleaming chandeliers, and beautiful molding.

  Jessica thought she was handling all of this very well until she noticed that many of the hallways had pornographic murals. Jessica blushed as she recognized maidens and youths entwined in erotic embrace. She saw an image of a boy much like the one leading her, except this boy was naked and erect. Half of her wanted to avert her eyes. The other half wanted to stop and stare at his detailed cock. Is that really what they look like? Is that really supposed to feel good inside me?

  The murals included more than just humans. Jessica noticed satyrs, elves, fairies, even demons kissing and cuddling and fucking. Their cocks were different sizes, sometimes different shapes. The women in the murals certainly looked like they were enjoying those cocks—in their mouths, in their pussies, in their… Jessica finally looked away. Gods below. Will he make me do that?

  They had arrived in the dining hall. Beneath a massive chandelier, Jessica saw a large, round table with a gathering of men already seated. The table was dark, glossy wood inlaid with brilliant green malachite. In any other situation, Jessica would have stopped to stare at its beauty, but now she was too distracted. Lord Azrael sat on the far side. The chair to his right was empty. The other chairs were occupied by half a dozen men, all of them fully clothed.

  They are in their finest, and I am in my nightie. Jessica could feel herself blushing. She almost wished that she had let down her hair simply to cover herself.

  Many of the men turned to look at Jessica as the servant brought her nearer. She was acutely aware of the gauzy dress that barely hid her body. She was aware, too, of the arousing effect of the murals. She felt certain that her nipples were tenting the thin fabric.

  Jessica could no longer bear to meet anyone’s eyes as she followed the shapely servant boy to her seat beside Azrael. There was a bit of space between her chair and the guest to her right. Jessica took some comfort in this. She didn’t think she would be required to talk to him. Just get through the evening. Azrael wants you here as eye-candy, that’s all. No one’s hurting you. Stop being a baby.

  The servant pulled out her chair, and she took a seat. Azrael was speaking to his companion on the left, and he did not so much as glance at her. The meal had obviously just begun, and a small plate with appetizers had been set for Jessica. She was grateful that the food did not look oily or heavy—just beautifully arranged slices of fruit with nuts and slivers of chocolate.

  I can do this.

  She lifted her eyes once. Two of the men across the table were watching her. They were both old enough to be her father, although she had to admit that the one with the distinguished beard and graying temples was not entirely unattractive. The other was jowly and red-faced. They looked at her almost as though they were waiting for something. Jessica didn’t know what.

  She’d just tasted the chocolate and found it excellent, when something soft brushed her leg. Jessica froze.

  Hot breath on her thigh.

  Oh gods. It’s the panther.

  Everyone knew that Azrael was never without his guardian beast. She should have noticed that it was missing. Panic seized Jessica. Then horror. A wet nose pressed against the inside of her knee, easing her legs apart.

  Chapter 3. Appetizer

  Jessica clamped her legs shut and sat a little straighter. She glanced at Azrael again, but he was paying no attention. This can’t be what is supposed to happen. The cat is lying at his feet, and it just brushed me by mistake.

  The wet nose again, the prickle of whiskers against her knees, her inner thighs... Jessica snapped her legs together and put her hands around them for good measure. The creature was breathing on her—warm against her shins. The ridiculous slip of a dress offered no protection at all. The edge of a warm tongue ghosted over her fingertips.

  Jessica looked desperately at Azrael. “My lord!”

  He finally turned to her, all dark eyes and high cheekbones. “Yes?”

  “I—” Jessica choked. Under the table, the beast was pushing. She could feel a flush creeping up her neck.

  Azrael spoke in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine. “Jessica. You’re new. I prefer that courtiers keep their hands on the table at all times when they are invited to dinner. Perhaps you did not know this.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “The answer is, ‘Yes, my lord.’”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said miserably.

  She saw the trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth and felt certain that he knew what was happening. The panther probably just wants to sniff me…like a dog.

  Jessica felt disgusted, but the cat was going to shove her over backwards if he pushed any harder, so she took her hands off her knees and placed them on the table. Then she opened her legs a fraction. Instantly, the sensation of soft fur slid up her thighs—warm and a little tickly. She could feel his breath against her crotch.

  Get a good sniff and get out of there.

  The panther’s enormous, boxy head pressed even further between her legs, forcing them wide. His breath was right against her panties now. There was a sense of fullness in her crotch. This cannot be happening.

  Around the table, the salad course had begun. Jessica had not eaten more than a bite of her appetizer, but the servants whisked it away without comment. They set down a colorful salad, full of cranberries, pecans, and goat cheese. Jessica was not remotely interested.

  Something warm and wet swept across the crotch of her panties. Jessica gave a little gasp. She looked around. A few men were watching her, but most were sipping their wine, talking to their neighbors, apparently ignorant of what was happening under the table.

  Jessica caught words like, “Must protect our northern borders—” and “—their stinginess with grain this year” and “—can’t consider a political marriage at this time.” It all sounded so reasonable and practical and utterly disconnected from what she was experiencing.

  The warmth and wetness continued, sometimes stopping to rub as well as to lick. Jessica felt dizzy. It can’t be the cat. Cats have rough tongues. Pet house cats had licked her fingers on any number of occasions, and their tongues felt like sandpaper. T
he tongue licking her now was as smooth as velvet, but huge. The sensation was maddening, horrible, delicious.

  Jessica felt as though she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. She wanted to get away. She wanted to get closer. She wanted to run. She wanted more.

  The tongue slipped around the edge of her soaking wet panties and brushed her labia. Jessica moaned, then clamped her mouth shut. Most of the men hadn’t heard her over their own conversations and the click of dinnerware, but the two across the table were grinning at her.

  Jessica shut her eyes. She felt acutely embarrassed. I want this to stop.

  It stopped.

  Jessica opened her eyes in surprise. The panther had withdrawn. She couldn’t even feel his breath on her knees. She blinked and looked around. Nobody was paying any attention to her now, not even the two men across the table. Everyone says the panther can talk. Can he read minds, too?

  Jessica looked at her salad. She still wasn’t hungry, but she tried taking a bite. It was delicious. She chewed, but she really didn’t want food right now. She wanted… Gods, that fullness in her crotch was intolerable. She wanted, absurdly, to touch herself right there at the table.

  Five minutes passed. Then, hesitantly, Jessica extended a questing foot. She met soft fur. A warm, wet tongue glided over her ankle. She shivered. Alright?

  And, just like that, he was back, sliding up her thighs, pressing his nose against her panties. Jessica’s eyes snapped shut. Oh, oh, oh…

  With incredible delicacy, the panther seized the wet crotch of her panties without pinching her, and pulled. Jessica gave a squawk. She scrabbled at the table to avoid being pulled off her chair as the animal dragged her panties down her legs and off her body.

  She barely had an opportunity to feel the cool air against her wet crotch before he was back, his enormous warm tongue now right against her sex, licking steadily, his velvet fur caressing her inner thighs. He’d pressed her legs even wider than before. Her gauzy dress had ridden up around her waist. What are the servants seeing? This is so embarrassing.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to care. Warm spasms of pleasure shivered through her belly and groin. She realized that the salad had been replaced with soup, and she hadn’t noticed.