Out of Character:
Not Safe For Anything


Avery had been in the village of Larkwood for three nights. It was small and quaint, with thatch-roof houses lined up along the river. The square’s fountain splashed happily in the moonlight except for the fact that the water was a deep crimson. The dark spray had stained the marble and the flagstones in the square directly around the monument. The windows were all dark, but it wasn’t for sleep. Few of the houses were still occupied, including the inn. The door was open, hanging ajar and swaying in the breeze. Now and then it slammed against the frame only to be ripped back open by the errant wind.

From within, moans and screams ebbed and flowed. They grew to a crescendo and fell silent, only for new voices to join the throng as others died into sputters or whispered sighs. On the bottom floor, a window flung open. The naked form that tumbled from it and onto the cobbles was ushered along with the smell of a strange floral mix. He paused now and again and turned back to the inn. There was movement at the window, but then it was gone.

“Oh Thayne.” Liard whispered, his voice hoarse. The stonemason’s strong form was littered with cuts and wounds, burns and bruises. He turned from the inn and started to run across the square with a limping gait. Now and then he fumbled, but never fell. Once his bare feet hit the gravel beyond the village, he grit his teeth and ran on, ignoring the pain of the stones on his heel. He had to get away.

Within Larkwood’s inn, a dark form left the window open. Dark green eyes danced with glee. He’d been sure the man had passed out from his ministrations, but the prey had been more cunning than he’d given him credit for. It was of no matter to the demon king. There were, after all, plenty of other playthings at his disposal. He’d gathered a group of girls, all of them wives but barely. The first thing he’d done was strip them of their clothes. Then he’d stripped them of their backs. It’d been almost an act of boredom. Meanwhile, they inhaled his scent, the touch of the incubi culling their minds until they begged for more. Now and again he would leave, letting the door open so that they could clear their minds. The last time he’d returned their voices were too hoarse to beg for mercy and they were dangerously close to being playthings he’d grown tired of.

The girls pawed at his body as he came to them now. They were well under his spell, the remembrance of their pain slowly dulling as they broke. Some of them had stopped bleeding. One of the girls, whose heart-shaped face was wracked with pain, clung to him, begging to please him. Her irises were red, making her blue eyes even more pretty. “Please, please,” she whispered with a rasp. With a wicked smile, Avery pulled her into his strong arms. The single glittering wing on his back quivered with anticipation before he leaned his face down to nuzzle her neck. His kisses were rough, but she moaned and arched her remnant of a back.

As she cooed with happiness, the incubus let his mouth move to her breast, his tongue circling his nipple. The splashing of the fountain outside was silenced by a shrill scream when he bit down. Avery was impressed. He hadn't thought her haggard voice had anything left.