~

From Incubus Shadows by Sophie Duncan:

“You must be the new boy,” a smooth, somewhat amused voice broke through Arran's awed reverie and, startled, he looked round for the source of the words.

What he found surpassed any legend and the way his heart threatened to beat out of his chest told him he was looking at Lord Mark. No human who had survived the magic wars had come out untouched by the power that had destroyed the past, but some had been more touched than others. The confident, eye-catching figure before Arran had Lord Robert's sharp, young, handsome features, long dark hair and strong shoulders, but this was no man the like of which Arran had ever seen before.

Lord Mark's skin held the palest of green hues, a trick of the light perhaps if not for the darker shadows glittering with silver that traced down from his hairline over the contours of his face, over a long neck and down under an unlaced white shirt that parted just enough to show off a muscled chest.

The legends said 'demon', 'sex-monster', protected from being hunted down like others of his kind by the power of his immortal brother. In the presence of the myth, however, Arran knew instantly this creature needed no protecting and his stomach knotted in a very different way to his original nerves. Arran swallowed hard and dropped his eyes.

Even without looking, Arran could still feel Lord Mark's presence, his skin bristled with it and, more, his libido took notice. In that, he guessed, the legends might be true and, more to cover his own reactions than knowing what to do, Arran bowed.

Lord Mark's reaction was unexpected, he laughed, and the deep, warm sound sent a skittering of nice feelings right down through Arran's body, settling in his cock.

“Such manners,” his host observed and Arran tensed as he heard footsteps coming towards him.

He didn't dare look up, his reaction would be all over his face and he had no doubt Lord Mark would see it. He did not want to offend his master's brother before even taking up his new position, so he found himself staring at Lord Mark's long, suede boots. They were very handsome boots, much like their owner – Arran tried to halt that thought before it carried on, but this close he could even smell his tempter, all man and musk, and his senses went spiralling outwards.

Arran's magic was also reacting to whatever power this devil possessed and he had always been hopeless at controlling what little sorcery he had, so, he was forced to take the bull by the horns.

Carefully, Arran took a step back and then looked up. He forgot to breathe at that point, because he looked right into Lord Mark's eyes and the tug on his soul was unmistakable. Bright blue irises flecked with decadent red drew him in and he felt his mind tumbling away, the blood descending rapidly from his brain to his trousers. Yet, before he could fall at this creature's feet, something inside him stalled, and, defensively, he took a second step back and he blinked.

“My Lord,” he stammered at his smiling doom.

Lord Mark, thankfully, did not move closer again, which Arran knew would have been his downfall, but he did drag those unusual eyes up and down Arran's body, which really didn't help the way Arran's trousers were becoming too tight.

“I thought my brother was mad when he announced he had invited one of the yokels into our home,” Lord Mark finally broke the silence and began to walk around Arran like he was on display, the sensation that attention generated would not have been altogether unpleasant had the situation been different. As it was, Arran ground his teeth and prayed for deliverance. “However, I can see the potential he saw in you. Do you think you have potential, Arran?”

The fact this nobleman had taken the time to learn his name did not pass Arran by. Nothing about the exotic magic within arms' reach was passing Arran by and most of it was descending to his cock.

“Yes, My Lord,” Arran eventually replied, loaded question or not, choosing to answer it directly. “I want to learn.”

Lord Mark remained silent as he completed the rest of his circuit and Arran watched when the sorcerer came back into view. He'd been warned a thousand times by the old tales that, with strong magic came dark forces, but he had never experienced them before. The legends were true, Lord Mark was an incubus, Arran could feel that fire in his belly, but, as the creature came to a halt in front of him once more, that power ebbed a little and he knew the tease was over. As Arran settled back onto his heels, Lord Mark viewed him more seriously.

“Welcome to Castle St John, Arran,” the nobleman eventually offered and held out a hand.

From Connections by Natasha Duncan-Drake:

When the familiar bleep sounded, Prim groaned and reached blindly for her communicator bracelet.

"Yes," she answered sleepily.

"Commodore, we have an unidentified ship on the scanners," the rather nervous voice of her chief of the watch informed her.

"Well just hail them and find out who the hell they are," she replied, annoyed at having been woken from a restful sleep.

"We tried, Ma'am, but the translator is having trouble understanding them."

Now she was awake. The translator was capable of interpreting any language of the known species including all sub-dialects. Either it was on the fritz, which she was sure the chief would have mentioned, or they were about to be in a first contact situation.

"Chief, when you say 'unidentified' you didn't mean one of ours without their beacon working, did you?"

"No, Ma'am," the man replied, "we've never seen this configuration of ship before."

"I'll be right there," she said and turned off the comm while slipping the bracelet onto her wrist.

Then she rolled over and poked the lump of covers next to her until a sleepy face appeared from under the sheets.

"We're needed on the bridge," she told her first officer and he face planted back into the pillow with a grown.

"What now?" was the muffled question.

"Possible first contact," Prim replied, just a little excited.

"What?" the shock was obvious in her companion's voice; there hadn't been a first contact situation in twenty years.

"Get your arse out of bed, Franky, we're about to make history."

Sleeping with your first officer wasn't exactly regulation, but they were stuck on a space station in the back end of nowhere and Prim didn't give a stuff about regulations. She had had her own ship when she had been a captain, but commodores didn't run space ships, they ran space stations. The bastards in the Admiralty had deliberately promoted her so they could tuck her out of the way where she couldn't cause trouble. Well a first contact would show them, wouldn't it.