Series: Moonlight & Magic #1
Genre(s): All Books, Menage, Paranormal
Barnes & Noble
Not just any demon, but a sex demon... and apparently paranormal club Moonlight & Magic has them in spades. But when she meets the clubs owners, twin incubi Daelas and Jaren, has part-fae Sage bitten off more than she can chew?
Endless years of biddable women...
The twins share everything, even their women, but nothing stirs their soul like the delicate little pixie woman who strolls into their club. Unable to read her thoughts like they can with any other woman, she is mysterious and alluring...
And their soulmate?
Please note: This title has been previously released with another publisher with a different cover.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Mina Carter
Boredom was a fucker. He needed to get laid. That, or try to kick himself to death with rubber boots on.
Daelas sighed and tried to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him. He wasn’t doing so well. The club accounts had never been particularly riveting, but he normally had less trouble keeping his attention on them.
The numbers swam past his eyes as he chewed on the pencil in his hand. The wood cracked under his teeth, snapping him back to the present. He grimaced at the ruined end of the pencil and dropped it back into the pot, picking a metal barrelled pen, instead.
He really needed to get laid. He was an incubus, so the need for sex went without saying, but he hadn’t seen any action between the sheets for months. Too many other things to take care of, or his brother’s latest madcap scheme to clear up. Anyone would think he was years older than Jaren, rather than just fifteen minutes. Sighing in resignation, he shook his head to get rid of the buzz trying to settle behind his eyes.
He flopped back in his chair and turned it to face the club below, the one-way glass allowing him to see, but not be seen. Like most weekends, it was busy. Packed to the rafters. The throng of humanity below all seeking something—be it amusement, companionship, or darker needs, conducted deep in the shadows.
Pen tapping against his thigh, he looked down over the club, a brooding expression on his face as he tried to isolate the cause of the buzzing. No one brooded as well as a demon, and no demon brooded as well as Daelas. Apart from his twin, Jaren. Apparently, the staff had a running argument going, as to which brother brooded better.
The cacophony of human thought rising from the packed club below battered at his mind. Used to the sensation he ignored it, like a horse would a fly. If he felt the necessity, he could filter through the noise and latch onto one set of thoughts, reading the emotions and desires of the human they belonged to. It was the way the incubi hunted, drawing their victims into their web to play on their thoughts and needs, then seducing them to feed off of their sexual energy.
Some, like Daelas, were so adept at it, so skilled at weaving their web around their victims, that all they had to do was crook a finger, and their prey would fall at their knees. Which was wonderful for stroking his male ego, but it got lonely after a while.
Just once he’d like a woman to see him for himself, rather than have her eyes glaze over when he got within a foot of her.
Longing hit him.
To be able have a conversation with a woman without knowing he could click his fingers and have her under his spell, would be wonderful.
Daelas shook his head, his frustration a hiss between his teeth as he watched a young blonde gyrate on stage for the amusement of the men on the dance floor below her. The sight didn’t affect him. Even from here he could tell she was human. Easy pickings, and therefore no challenge. Daelas needed a woman with some sort of paranormal blood, or even a female demon. He shuddered, the thought exciting him even as the reality repulsed him. Daelas didn’t want a female of his kind anywhere near him. Even if the chances of Daelas and his brother meeting their soul-mate out here in the mortal world were slim, it was still preferable to getting saddled with a female sex demon for the rest of eternity. Beautiful and deadly, but with the morals of an alley cat, a succubus would only destroy everything he and Jaren had built, and laugh while she did it.
Absently, his gaze wandered over the already full dance floor, and then swept over the rest of the club. With an ease born of practice he picked out the trouble spots, noting they were all clear. Everything was running like clockwork down there. He sighed, a combination of relief and regret.
He was bored; he wanted something—anything—to happen.
Just as he turned away from the window, he felt it. Amongst the throng of humanity choking up the “airwaves,” there was something else. The buzzing intensified, settling behind his eyes like a bad headache.
“Well heeellooo…what have we here?” he murmured, sitting forward with interest as he tried to isolate the feeling. It wasn’t human, that was for sure. Whatever species, it was alluring, lingering on the periphery of his senses, like trying to catch sight of something out of the corner of his eye.
A haunting feeling—similar to the sense of loss after harp strings have been stroked and the music has died away—filled him.
“Where are you?” he whispered into the silent office, his sharp eyes riveted on the club below. “What are you?”
“Sheeerrri. I thought you said there were sex demons in here?” Sage giggled as she tried to open the cubicle door. She was tipsy, way past tipsy. In fact, she’d sprinted past tipsy like an Olympic athlete, and was heading into full-on “drunk as a skunk” territory.
Sage squinted at the door; alcohol and lack of her glasses, left off for reasons of vanity, not helping her any. Finally, with great concentration, she flicked the lock open and did a little victory jig right there in the cubicle. No lock would stop her.
Sherri looked over her shoulder and shrugged as Sage joined her, her friend’s earrings sparkling as they caught the light.
“S’what the flyers said…about the waiters. I dunno. They’re cute, whatever they are. Come on, slowpoke, I wanna dance!” Sherri urged as she washed her hands.
“Dance? You can barely stand up! Hold your horses, missy,” Sage ordered, grinning as Sherri swayed on impossibly high heels.