He shrugged. “I needed the exercise.”

Big, handsome, and modest. I wondered what flaw he hid. “Thanks,” I said grudgingly. Having survived on my own for so long, it galled me to admit, his aid saved my ass from the proverbial frying pan, but, the warmth in his gaze let me know I hadn’t escaped the fire yet.

“Thanks for what? If they hadn’t played dirty with the tranquilizer, I do believe you’d have flattened them on your own.”

I blushed at his praise. Then almost choked at the sensation. Since when do I react like a bloody girl when a guy praises me? My smile transformed into a scowl, which only deepened his grin. “Who are you and where am I?” I asked in a grumpy tone that had a lot to do with the reaction of my body to his presence, but for my peace of mind I’d blame on a lack of coffee.

“My name is Simon and you’re in my loft on the twelfth floor,” he said his voice, a low soothing rumble that I enjoyed way too much.

Good manners dictated I introduce myself even if I still remained unsure of the situation-besides in case we ended up naked in bed, he’d need a name to bellow when I gave him the best orgasm of his life. “My name is Beth.” I almost slapped a hand over my mouth when my old name came flying out as natural as you please. I must have looked shocked, for he tilted his head.

“Beth. It’s much nicer than your stage name I must say.”

“How do you know about that?”

The giant chuckled. “You had Trixi labeled inside your clothes, so unless you like to wear other people’s underwear and outfits, common sense dictates, along with the fact that I found you in the back alley of an exotic dancing location, that you have a stage name. If it makes you feel any better, Simon is my real name.”

“What’s your stage name?” I blurted, curious.

Again his lips curved into a smile that made my panties wet and I had to wonder if he were an incubus because quite honestly, despite all the men I’d enticed over the years, he was the first to return the favor.

“My stage name when I used to step into the ring, was Puff.”

I wrinkled my brow. “As in puff pastry?”

Again he laughed, the low timbre of the sound reverberating throughout my body pleasantly. “No, as in Puff the magic dragon.”

He’d really lost me at this point, and he must have noticed it because he snorted in amusement. “Don’t worry. You’ll figure out why soon enough. Now what do you say to some breakfast?”

Hunger gnawed at me sudden like, and my mouth watered, but not for the bacon I smelt drifting through the open bedroom door. Looking him up and down, my eyes lingered on the distinct bulge in his pants. I licked my lips as I realized I could go for some sausage. Injuries always wakened my hungers. Smiling at him, I turned on the juice to prep him for my idea of a morning pick me upper.

“Bad succubus,” he chided. “Is that any way to thank your host?”

My jaw dropped as he outed me. Before I could ask him how he knew-and resisted me!-he walked away. The view was surprisingly nice, especially for a guy his size. But I was allowing myself to get distracted. How the hell had he known? Other than my two best friends from the club, I held my state of being a close secret. And how come he’s not on his knees worshipping me with his tongue? Having never experienced rejection before, I quickly decided I didn’t like it one bit.

I scurried after Simon, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting that ended outside the bedroom door. The gleaming wood floors-white pine, what else-were chilly under my feet, actually his whole condo was a tad cool, not that it bothered me. How hot or cold a body was remained a human concern. And I was far from human anymore.

I crossed the wide expanse of the living room, which shone bright and white, probably because of the wide bank of windows that stretched from the floor to the cathedral ceiling. Good thing my other side didn’t suffer from the sunlight curse like my brothers. I am starting to wonder at his obsession with white though. Would it kill him to have a little color?

A clanging of dishes alerted me to Simon’s presence in the kitchen. The white kitchen-gee, did they forget color when they decorated-opened into the living area, separated only by a gleaming island that was topped by-you guessed it-a white slab of marble. I perched myself on the bar stool tucked under the breakfast bar and studied Simon as he plated some steaming food, the only spot of color in the whole place. I can’t deny he’s nice to watch. For such a big man, he moved light on his feet, and the play of his muscles under his clothing warmed me better than any coffee.

He didn’t say a word as he finished making breakfast, but his eyes often shifted to me, along with a half-smile that made me want to smile back. I clamped my lips tight instead, not trusting how comfortable I found myself with this veritable stranger-whom I’d probably have to kill for guessing my secret. What a shame.

The silence stretched as did my curiosity. Only once he handed me my portion on a huge plate heaped with enough food for three did I voice my question. “Why did you call me a succubus?”

In the process of shoveling food into his mouth-a fascinating process that made me flash to him devouring my pussy instead-he swallowed and took a sip of his orange juice before he answered me. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m not human, just like you.”

His reply threw me and I peered at him more closely. On the outside, he looked like a man-a drop dead, gorgeously muscled one. I tuned in my other senses and sucked in my breath. What the hell is he? His aura glowed, thick and colorful telling me without any words he’d not only lived a long life, but a full one that ran the gamut from sweetness to violence. To me, a person’s aura, their soul so to speak, appeared as a shroud around them. Over the years, I’d learned to read them-most of the time. The thicker the shroud, the older the person. Simon’s was the thickest I’d ever seen.

Another neat thing I’d learned was the colors of a person’s soul told me what kind of life they’d lived. Darker colors stood for the violence and ugliness in a person’s life, while lighter colors, represented happy times and caring for others. Most people tended to lean towards one shade or the other; however, Simon was a kaleidoscope, with all the colors of the rainbow plus some swirling in his super thick shroud. My mouth watered just looking at it, for he stirred the hunger of my succubus side. But, unlike a true soul sucking nymph, I could control myself and take what I needed without killing the provider. And, if the sexual energy around me ran high enough, I could feed without even touching. Hands free was definitely not as yummy as the power fed to me via skin to skin contact, though.

“You have a pretty aura, but it doesn’t tell me what you are.” Although I did know whatever supernatural caste he belonged to was definitely long lived.

“What does your other side tell you?” His eyes glittered, their faint glow pointing to his less than human DNA. And once again, he shocked me. How does he recognize what I am?

I didn’t like my other side as much and preferred not to wake that evil sleeping giant, but once suggested, my darker side roused. My eyes narrowed and my senses heightened. I inhaled deep, my mind sorting through the myriad smells from bacon, eggs and toast to something old, musty, and… I faltered at the alienness that assailed my olfactory meter. What the fuck is he?

He chuckled at my puzzled expression. “Okay, maybe you can’t figure it out.”

“So tell me?” I pinned him with my prize winning-make that trouser dropping-smile.

He leaned forward over the wide counter, close enough if I tilted my head forward our lips would touch. I almost did it, and I couldn’t entirely blame my succubus nature. “Tell you? That would be too easy.”

He smiled at me as he leaned back. He resumed eating his breakfast while I fumed. Okay, I was sulking. Having learned to use my attributes, I’d grown used to men-and yes, even women-doing as I asked. Grumpy, I refused to look at him while I ate food that I swallowed without tasting. My mind raced through the possibilities and dismissed them. Arriving at the end of my short list of supernatural beings-a longer list than before my incarceration, but by no means complete because as I’d learned, the world had many secrets. The only conclusion I’d arrived at said he wasn’t a vampire-his aura made that answer easy. But, given my reaction to him-AKA my throbbing, wet crotch-he could be an incubus. And yet, while he drew me and made me want to indulge in carnal delights, I didn’t get the impression that was the right answer. He’s something else, but what?

I studied him in silence, hunched on the breakfast bar, munching on toast. His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t speak, too busy shoveling food in his mouth. A body like his probably required lots of calories to keep it going. Good boy. Eat up because you’re going to need lots of energy for what I have planned. My pussy just about hummed in agreement.

He finally broke the silence.” How old are you?”

“Why? How old do I look?” I replied with an enigmatic smile.

“Your very nature means you don’t age, but I have to say, it’s been a while since I’ve encountered one of your ilk. I’d thought you all dead in the last cleansing. How long have you been hiding?”

I gaped at him. “Say again? There are more of me? The doctors said I was the only one.”

It was while we both stared at each other with puzzled faces that a swirling mist appeared behind him in the kitchen and coalesced into a man shape.

“Behind you,” I yelled throwing myself off the stool and diving over the sofa to crouch in a readied stance. I was ready to kick the ass of whoever had disrupted our breakfast.