Title: Origin of the
Succubus
Author: J. E. McGraw
ISBN: 978-1-62420-230-8
Genre: Dark Fantasy
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4
TAGLINE
In the depths of winter, a bubonic plague survivor is seduced by a dark
stranger who changes her life forever.
BLURB
A survivor of the bubonic
plague that has laid waste to much of Europe, nineteen-year-old Hanna is sent
to a convent near Kosice by her wealthy father. She finds a wounded man named
Cayo in the snow outside the convent and begins to nurse him back to health.
There is something different about Cayo: his wounds heal much faster than
expected, and Hanna becomes aroused whenever she is near him. Cayo seduces her.
Hanna falls ill and Cayo urges her to flee the convent when he learns a priest
has examined her. With those who once loved her now intent on her death, Hanna
turns into a creature of lust and base desire: a succubus. She believes she
will never know what true and pure love is again--until she meets a handsome
paladin named Tartu...
EXCERPT
Cayo was the only patient in the hospice. He was
sleeping. I stood by the door of the hospice, my hand bandaged, and watched
him. He looked better than when the Reverend Mother and I had rescued him.
Then, his lips were blue and his face pale. I had thought he would die. The
color had returned to his face over the past weeks. He looked more like a
native of the place he said he came from: Spain.
Cayo was not a tall man, and he was quite slim. He had
the natural olive complexion of a Spaniard, but the usual Spaniard's
swarthiness was replaced by a slender, almost willowy…it wasn't grace, but
elegance. He wore no top and was bandaged about his waist. Cayo might be of
small build, but his shoulders were broad and his muscles well-defined. The
shadow of a beard darkened his
face and
his black hair, unkempt and matted when I first saw him, was now washed and
shiny.
Quietly, I walked to Cayo's bed and sat down beside him.
The Reverend Mother had charged me with nursing Cayo back to health. I didn't
need to be with him – the only reason I had come here was to bandage my hand –
but it felt apt that I check on him while in the hospice. I reached out and
touched Cayo on the chest. A tiny but pleasurable shock ran up my finger, along
my arm and down my spine.
Cayo opened his eyes. It was nothing. Little shocks often
happened when the weather was cold. It had happened twice, once when I first
touched him and now, but that was just a coincidence. Cayo was a man, but I was
a novice in the service of God.
Cayo managed a smile, but when I looked at him closely, there was something else, as if
there were a knowing, almost mocking grin behind the smile. "Novice
Hanna," he murmured.
"I cut myself in the garden," I said quickly,
showing Cayo my bandaged hand. "I thought I should check on you."
Cayo reached out and held my wrist gently but with firm
resolve. "Even a pious nun bleeds. Tell me, does it hurt?"
"A little," I admitted. "How do you
feel?"
"I am getting better. My wound is still painful, but
I can feel it healing. I will be gone in a week or two."
"But your wound was very deep. The Reverend Mother
said it would take two, three months…"
Cayo held a finger to my lips. "I am a quick healer." His smile
widened. "But you're right, to heal properly it might take two or three
months. I would be a fool to leave when I'm in the care of a woman as beautiful
as you."
I looked away from Cayo and smiled. I'm sure I would have
seen red in my cheeks had I looked in a mirror. "Do you feel
stronger?"
"My strength is returning slowly. I am stronger than
when I came here. I must thank you for saving me that day. I thought I was
going to die."
"It's no problem. I have to admit I was frightened.
I didn't know robbers came so close to Kosice. The Reverend Mother spoke with
the city watch but they couldn't find anyone."
"I was easy prey. Predators always hunt for the
easiest prey they can find. They're surer of a kill. It is the same with
people."
Cayo might have been traveling alone, but he spoke with
the self-assured poise – bordering on arrogance – of nobility. I was the
daughter of a minor noble, but my father had courted and dealt with men
wealthier and more powerful than he was. Men like Jiri. I knew so little about
Cayo. I could even be treating a lord or knight. "Where in Spain do you
come from?"
"Basque. A town called Guernica."
"What is it like there?" I knew very little
about the geography of Europe outside the Bohemian plain and the Carpathians.
My father had not
seen fit to
teach us, believing that
what we
weren't going to encounter in our lifetimes was irrelevant.
"It's home, and therefore the most beautiful place
in the world."
I thought of Cayo's answer and my own home near the
forest. I felt the same way. "Why did you leave?" I asked him,
genuinely curious.
Cayo reached out and grabbed my good hand. His grip was
surprisingly gentle, as though he were handling a rare and delicate piece of
jewelry "Why all these questions? My life has little enough of interest.
Perhaps I should be asking about you. The history of a beautiful woman
dedicating her life to God is far more interesting than anything I could tell
you about me."
I blushed again, but this time I didn't look away.
"What would you like to know?"
"Where are you from?"
"A tiny village south of here. You won't find it on
any map."
"I have often found the most beautiful places in the
world are those you can't find on maps."
"I miss it there."
"I must visit one day. What is there?" Cayo
asked.
"Very little. My father is the local lord. The
village borders the forest and there are cattle and pigs in the fields, and
vineyards. Guernica must be very different."
Cayo looked at the high ceiling of the hospice and for a
moment he was pensive. Then he said, "Yes, it would be very different. I
haven't seen it for a long time." He looked back at me, his confidence and
knowing manner returned. "So what is the daughter of a lord doing in a
convent?"
I could tell him that I was a second daughter, a useless
spare once my father had wed Dalibora to Jiri and consolidated his lands with
those of my late sister's husband. I feared the main reason would be harder for
Cayo to accept. I had contracted the plague but, unlike many, I had survived. I
looked at my reflection in the river sometimes. I still had the gaunt look of
those who had survived the plague, but it was improving. "My father isn't
rich," I said, "and my elder sister had already wed. He thought a
convent would be the best place for me."
"But wouldn't that leave you free to wed for
love?"
What man would desire a woman who had survived the
plague? "My
father did the right thing. I like it here. It is a virtuous calling. I have a
little sister. She will marry for love."
"You are lying." The bluntness of Cayo's words
shocked me. He spoke softly, as though his statement wasn't an accusation but a
comforting truth. "There is something sad about you. But there is anger
too. You are not as at peace as you would have others believe." Cayo
placed his hand on mine, and this time his grip was firm. "What do you
seek?"
"I seek happiness and peace with God."
"You seek revenge."
"No!" The urgency of my protest only confirmed
his accusation. I was ashamed of the feelings I had been experiencing when I
thought of Jiri – I didn't even know if they were justified except for an
unspoken inference from Dalibora – but part of me clung to them.
"Why do you lie to me?" Cayo asked gently.
"It is a sin to lie." He smiled. "Or do you like indulging in
sin?" Cayo's smile was predatory now and he looked at my body.
"You don't understand." I was angry with him for
finding my lie out and looking at me the way he was, but another, deeper part
of me felt aroused. There were few men in the convent and the way Cayo looked
at me made me certain he was interested in me as more than his nurse. There was
no one here. I could reach out and kiss him, caress him, lie beside him. No, it
wasn't right! Ecaterina might indulge her wicked thoughts but I wouldn't. I was
a novice in a convent and I would respect God.
"What are you thinking about?" Cayo inquired.
"I think you're thinking about me."
"You don't understand," I said again.
"Someone close to me…"
I didn't want to continue. My life was none of Cayo's
business. He was a patient in the hospice and nothing more. I stood and
smoothed out my habit. "It is good to see you are on the mend." I
tried to sound practiced and self-assured, but I still felt a pleasurable
sensation as I looked at Cayo's chest. I turned and left the hospice before my
imagination got the better of me.
No comments:
Post a Comment